Page 118 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“I’m not finished.” I shift closer, close enough that I can see the exact shade of brown in her eyes, close enough that the space between us feels electric with possibility. “I love the way you fight for this community. I love the way you turn preservation into art. I love that you made me understand the difference between building things and building things that matter.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, and the words hit me like lighting.
“I love that you see possibilities where other people see problems. You trust me with your dreams even after David tried to steal them, and you chose to fight beside me instead of letting me protect you from a distance.”
“I was terrified,” she admits. “When you left, I thought it was happening again. I thought I’d trusted the wrong person and was about to lose everything.”
“You won’t face anything else alone. Never again will I make decisions about us without talking to you first,” I promise, meaning it with every cell in my body.
“What are you saying?”
The question hangs between us like a bridge I’m finally ready to cross. Michelle sits in golden sunlight with her hair catching the ocean breeze, looking like everything I never knew I wanted and everything I’m terrified of losing.
“I’m saying that I want to build things together that serve this community and serve us, because you’ve taught me they’re the same thing when you do them right.” I pause, gathering courage for the most important words I’ll ever speak. “I’m saying that I want to choose you every single day for the rest of my life.”
Michelle sets down her margarita with trembling hands, and my heart beats against my ribs like it’s trying to escape and handle this conversation better than I am.
“I want to wake up every morning in your apartment above the coffee shop and fall asleep every night listening to ocean waves with you beside me. I want to preserve historic buildings and develop sustainable communities and argue about architectural details until we’re ninety.”
“Grayson,” she breathes.
“I want to build a life together that’s worthy of the federal grants and the community trust and everything we’ve accomplished.” I lean closer, close enough to see tears gathering in her eyes. “I want to love you through every challenge and every success and every ordinary Tuesday that makes up a life worth living.”
“Yes,” she whispers, and the word hits me like electrical current.
“Yes?”
“Yes to all of it. Yes to building things together, yes to choosing each other every day, yes to loving you through every ordinary Tuesday and extraordinary challenge.” She reaches for me with hands that shake slightly. “Yes to everything we can create together.”
Her kiss tastes like tequila and salt air and the dangerous kind of certainty that changes everything. I pull her closer, grateful for the solid reality of her in my arms and the promise of years ahead to build everything we’ve dreamed.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I love you too,” she replies, and the words feel like coming home.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun disappear into the Atlantic while salt air carries the scent of possibilities that stretch as endless as the ocean horizon.
“So,” Michelle says eventually, “what happens now?”
“Now we call the new investors and explain why community preservation makes better business sense than corporate extraction. Now we plan the most beautiful sustainable development project the Eastern seaboard has ever seen.” I pause, studying her face in the fading light. “Now we build something together that will last longer than both of us.”
“Sounds perfect,” she says, settling against my side with contentment.
“Michelle?”
“Mmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For teaching me the difference between developing communities and serving them. For showing me what’s worth fighting for. For choosing to trust me even after David tried to destroy everything.”
“Thank you for coming back,” she replies, and the simple statement carries weight that makes my chest tight. “Thank you for choosing us over everything else.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. Scott’s name appears on the screen, and Michelle grins with mischievous satisfaction.
“Answer it,” she says. “Let’s find out what our new future looks like.”
