Page 117 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“Grayson,” Scott’s voice carries disbelief and what might be admiration. “Please tell me you didn’t just tell Coastal Capital to go kick tires on a video conference call.”
“I told Coastal Capital that Twin Waves isn’t available for corporate exploitation,” I correct. “Slightly different message.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
Michelle leans into the phone with wicked satisfaction. “He’s just proven that Reed Development Corporation prioritizes sustainable community development over quarterly profit margins.”
“Michelle? You’re both there?” Scott’s voice shifts. “Good. Because I’ve been fielding calls for the last hour from investors who apparently monitor Coastal Capital’s business practices.”
“What kind of calls?” I ask.
“The kind from firms that specialize in sustainable development and community partnerships. Firms that have been looking for developers who prioritize long-term community benefit over short-term extraction.”
Michelle’s hand finds mine again, squeezing tight as possibility blooms between us.
“How many firms?” Michelle asks.
“Six so far. Including Hammond Sustainable Development, which handles more community preservation projects than any firm on the East Coast.” Scott’s voice carries growing excitement. “Grayson, you didn’t just burn bridges with Coastal Capital—you signaled to the entire industry that Reed Development Corporation is committed to a different kind of development.”
“The kind that works with communities instead of exploiting them,” I say, understanding finally dawning.
“Exactly. And apparently that’s exactly what several major investors have been looking for.”
Michelle’s smile is brilliant enough to power small cities. “So choosing community over corporate profits was actually a sound business decision?”
“It was the right decision,” I correct, pulling her closer. “Everything else is just bonus.”
The next day, we’re sitting on Michelle’s back deck with the Atlantic Ocean stretching endlessly before us, salt air mixing with the scent of lime and tequila from the margaritas Michelle insisted we needed to celebrate properly. The sunset paints the sky in shades of coral and gold, the kind of natural beauty that makes everything else seem manageable.
“I still can’t believe you told Coastal Capital off,” Michelle says, taking a sip of her drink and leaning back in her deck chair with satisfaction. “On video. While I sat there trying not to grin like an idiot.”
“You did grin like an idiot,” I point out, stretching my legs toward the deck railing. “Right around the time you started reading them David’s greatest hits.”
“That was my ‘I’m about to destroy your entire business model’ grin. Completely different from an idiot grin.”
The easy banter feels like coming home after years of wandering, like finally understanding what I’ve been searching for in every project, every partnership, every professional decision that never quite felt right.
“Michelle,” I say, setting down my margarita and turning to face her fully. “I need to tell you something.”
Her expression shifts, humor fading into the kind of careful attention that suggests she’s bracing for complications. “That sounds ominous.”
“Not ominous. Important.” I reach for her hand, grateful when she doesn’t pull away. “When I left without explaining anything, it wasn’t because I was choosing my career over you. It was because I was terrified of choosing you and having it destroy everything you’ve built.”
“What do you mean?”
“David contacted Scott. He threatened to create compliance problems with your grants if I didn’t end our partnership.” The admission tastes bitter, but Michelle deserves the completetruth. “He had copies of your grant applications, details about our collaboration, enough information to create questions about financial impropriety if he decided to make trouble.”
Michelle goes very still. “So you left to protect me.”
“I left because I was a coward. Because instead of trusting you to handle David together, I decided to sacrifice our relationship to keep you safe.” I squeeze her hand, needing the contact to ground me through what comes next. “It was the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, and I’ve made some stupid decisions.”
“Like what?”
“Like thinking I could walk away from you and still be functional. Like believing professional success could matter more than having someone who makes everything better just by existing.” I pause, studying her face in the golden light. “Like waiting this long to tell you that you’re the most important thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Michelle’s breath catches, and her carefully constructed emotional walls begin to crumble in real time.
“Grayson—”
