Page 63 of Love, Take Two

We spend the morning developing a business expansion plan that feels both exciting and slightly overwhelming. More staff, more systems, more everything. But the client demand is clearly there, and the financial opportunity is too good to ignore.

"This feels big," Vada says, looking at our projected revenue numbers. "Like, life-changing big."

"Good big or scary big?" I ask.

"Both," she admits with a laugh. "Definitely both."

By afternoon, we've drafted job descriptions, created intake forms, and scheduled consultations with six potential clients. Maya accepts our offer to join the team before we even finish explaining the role, and suddenly we're running an actual company instead of just being two people with complementary skills.

"I should probably call Stella," I say, settling onto our couch with my laptop. "Let her know how things are going."

"Good idea," Vada agrees, curling up beside me.

The video call connects to show Stella in her home office, looking professionally put-together despite it being late afternoon on a Wednesday.

"Emory!" she says with obvious delight. "How's domestic life treating you?"

"Really well, actually," I say, pulling Vada closer so she's in frame. "

"We're pretty happy," Vada says, and something about the way she says it makes my chest warm.

"You should be," Stella says with obvious approval. "And from what I can tell, you're building something incredible together professionally too."

We fill Stella in on the business growth, the client demand, the expansion plans we're developing. She asks smart questions about sustainability and work-life balance that make me grateful to have an architect's practical perspective on building something meant to last.

"The most important thing," Stella says toward the end of our call, "is that you two seem genuinely happy. Not just successful, but actually enjoying what you're building together."

"We are," I say, meaning it completely. "This feels right in ways I didn't expect."

"Good," Stella says with satisfaction. "Because life's too short to build something you don't love with someone you don't adore."

After we end the call, Vada and I sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, processing the day's developments and what they mean for our future.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" she says eventually.

"Looks like it," I agree. "How are you feeling about everything?"

"Excited," she says without hesitation. "Maybe a little nervous about the speed, but mostly excited. What about you?"

"Same," I say, pulling her closer. "Though I have to admit, the best part isn't the business success."

"No?"

"The best part is getting to build it with you," I say honestly. "Getting to wake up every morning knowing we're creating something together."

"That's very romantic for a business discussion," she says, but she's smiling as she says it.

"Maybe that's our secret," I suggest. "We're not just business partners or just romantic partners. We're both."

"Both," she agrees, settling against my chest. "I like the sound of that."

That evening, as we're cooking dinner together and discussing vendor contracts like it's the most natural thing in the world, I catch myself thinking about how much my life has changed since Paradise Cove. Three weeks ago, I was stressed about credit card bills and uncertain about my future. Now I'm planning international travel for work, expanding a business with someone I love, and looking forward to tomorrow in ways I haven't felt in years.

"What are you thinking about?" Vada asks, following my gaze out the kitchen window where the Portland skyline is lit up against the evening sky.

"Just that this feels like the beginning of something really good," I say. "All of it. The business, living here, building a life with you."

"The beginning," she repeats thoughtfully. "I like that better than thinking of it as the end of our single lives."

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