Page 48 of Love, Take Two

Emory looks at me like I've said something completely ridiculous. "Vada, I've been with the real you all week. You think I've been in love with some fantasy version?"

"Haven't you?" I ask, genuinely unsure.

"No," he says firmly. "I've been in love with the woman who overthinks everything but still takes risks. Who organizes everyone else's chaos but can't always control her own anxiety. Who's built an incredible business from nothing but still second-guesses herself sometimes. That's who I fell for in college, and that's who I'm falling for again now."

The specificity of his words settles something in my chest that I didn't realize was tight. He's not in love with some idealized memory—he's in love with my actual personality, flaws and all.

"Besides," he adds with a grin, "if this was just vacation magic, would we have been able to coordinate like that during volleyball? Or wine tasting? Or any of the activities this week?"

He has a point. Our compatibility hasn't just been about the romantic setting—it's been about how naturally we work together, how easily we fall into sync.

"I'm scared," I admit quietly.

"Me too," he says, squeezing my hands. "But I'm more scared of walking away and spending another eight years wondering what if."

"So what do we do?"

"We be brave," he says. "We figure out the logistics, we take it one day at a time, and we see what happens."

The simplicity of his answer makes me laugh despite my anxiety. "That's your big plan? Wing it?"

"Pretty much," he admits with the grin that made me fall for him in college. "Though I should probably mention that I've already been thinking about basing my operations out of Portland."

"Really?"

"Really. I can travel from anywhere, and Portland's got great access to outdoor content opportunities. Plus, there's this amazing event planner there who I'd like to see more of."

"Just see more of?" I ask, feeling my mood lift.

"Well, maybe collaborate professionally. And personally. And in every way possible."

"I like that plan better than winging it," I say, leaning over to kiss him.

"Good," he says against my lips. "Because I'm hoping you'll let me stick around long enough to prove this isn't just paradise magic."

"How long are we talking?"

"How about forever?" he asks, and something in his tone makes me look at him more carefully.

"Emory—"

"I know it's fast," he says quickly. "I know we've only been back in each other's lives for a week. But Vada, I've never been more sure of anything. This isn't nostalgia or vacation romance. This is right."

The certainty in his voice makes my heart race in the best way. Because he's right—it does feel right. All of it. The way we fit together, the way we bring out the best in each other, the way everything feels possible when we're together.

"Forever sounds good," I say, surprising myself with how easily the words come out.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I confirm, kissing him properly this time. "Though I reserve the right to panic about logistics later."

"Deal," he agrees. "But right now, we have one more day in paradise. What do you want to do with it?"

I look around at the stunning resort, the perfect weather, the luxury amenities we'll probably never experience again. Then I look at Emory, and the answer becomes obvious.

"I want to spend it exactly like this," I say. "Just us, no schedule, no wedding activities, no social media content. Just being together."

"Perfect," he says, settling back with his coffee. "Though I should probably warn you—Maya's going to want a full debrief before we leave."

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