Page 74 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
“We’re figuring out if two people who spent weeks arguing about property development can figure out how to build something together instead.”
“And what would we be building?”
“I don’t know. Something that serves both of us. Something that lasts.” I reach up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and she leans into the touch. “Something worth more than its market value.”
She steps closer, eliminating the last bit of professional distance between us. “I’d like to try building that.”
“Even though I’m probably going to mess it up?”
“Even though I’m definitely going to overthink everything and probably panic at least twice a week?”
“Those sound like manageable construction challenges.”
“Does that make us business partners now?”
“That makes us whatever we want to be.”
She reaches up to kiss me then, soft and sure and tasting like red wine and the promise of something I never thought I’d be brave enough to want. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers, trying to memorize this moment when everything changed.
“Michelle?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I look around? I want to see more of your life.”
Her smile lights up the room. “Only if you promise not to make construction commentary about my decorating choices.”
“I can’t promise that. I’ve already identified at least three code violations.”
“You have not.”
“The lighting fixture in your kitchen is held up by hope and a prayer.”
“It’s vintage character.”
“It’s a fire hazard.”
“Shows what you know about interior design.” She takes my hand, leading me toward her bedroom area. “Come on. Let me show you the rest of my code violations.”
“This should be educational.”
“This should be terrifying. I made most of my decorating decisions based on what was affordable and what made me happy, not what met professional construction standards.”
The bedroom is small but cozy, with a reading chair positioned near the window and a nightstand covered in books and reading glasses and what appears to be...
“Is that needlework?” I ask, picking up a small embroidered hoop.
Michelle freezes. “No.”
“This is definitely needlework. With what appears to be...” I study the pattern more closely. “Is this a tiny dog wearing a bow tie?”
“Put that down.”
“This is adorable.” I examine the stitching with the appreciation I usually reserve for well-executed construction joints. “How many of these do you have?”
“It’s a hobby. A perfectly normal hobby that many people enjoy.”
“How many, Michelle?”
