Page 59 of Designing Love
And then, slowly, softly, I kiss her. My lips brush against hers, gentle at first, careful — almost hesitant — as if asking permission. She responds instinctively, tilting her head to meet mine, deepening our connection. My hand rests lightly on her hips.
The kiss grows, lingering with the promise of more to come, yet still sweetly restrained. My thumb gently brushes her cheek as our lips part slowly, reluctantly.
We remain standing close, our foreheads touching, breath mingling softly, caught in the comforting, electrifying silence. It feels like we’ve just crossed a beautiful boundary, neither of us eager to break the spell.
“So,” she murmurs, glancing up at me shyly. “Am I forgiven for not getting in touch yesterday? I passed through security just in time and had to run to the gate to make my flight.”
I chuckle softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I suppose. But next time, let’s avoid radio silence? My nerves were a mess.”
“Deal,” she agrees, nestling closer.
Together, we look around the cluttered, dusty space. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a hopeful glow across everything — the cracked plaster walls, the scattered notes, the dusty blueprints still laughing at my cluelessness.
“Sophia,” I say quietly, brushing my thumb against her cheek. “Are you sure you’re ready for all this mess?”
She smiles softly. “More than ready. As long as it’s our mess.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, a deep-seated contentment I haven’t felt in years. I hold her tighter, the chaos around us fading into insignificance.
Because standing here now, amid the ruins and dreams, the plans and blueprints, Sophia in my arms — I realize there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Some messes are definitely worth it.
26
RENOVATING THE FUTURE
Sophia
Istand in the middle of the Miller House, clipboard in hand, trying desperately not to laugh. Ethan stands before me, safety goggles perched atop his head like he’s auditioning for a handyman reality show.
“Remind me again,” I tease lightly, tapping my pen against the clipboard, “exactly why you decided this wall had to go today?”
Ethan squints at the cracked plaster. “Sophia, it offended me personally. Look at it. Smug, cracked, mocking me. It had it coming.”
I press my lips together, barely holding back my laugh. “Ah, yes. Walls famous for their terrible attitude problems.”
He flashes a charmingly defensive smile. “You’re the designer. You tell me — doesn’t it look structurally suspicious?”
I shake my head, amused, and take a step closer to examine the ancient wallpaper. “It looks vintage to me. Like early Victorian meets desperate 1970s homeowner. Perfectly harmless.”
Ethan eyes the wall suspiciously, reaching out and tapping it lightly with his knuckles. A dull thud echoes ominously.
I pause, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe less harmless.”
“Ha! See?” Ethan says triumphantly. “It’s clearly mocking both of us now.”
Before I can protest, he hefts the sledgehammer, testing its weight. My heart quickens, a rush of excitement mixing with nerves. I glance down at the clipboard, faking serious consideration. “Well, according to our plans…”
“I have your blessing then,” Ethan interrupts, eyes bright with boyish mischief, already swinging.
“Wait — Ethan!” I shriek, jumping back just in time as the sledgehammer crashes spectacularly through the plaster. Dust billows everywhere, coating us both in white powder.
We stare blankly at each other through the haze, Ethan coughing slightly, his face sheepish beneath the dust. “That... seemed easier on TV.”
“Did you just base our entire renovation strategy on reality TV? Just wait for the construction crew, will ya?!” I sputter through laughter, brushing plaster dust from my eyelashes.
“Possibly,” he admits, wiping his face and blinking. “Wasn’t my best move.”
