Page 39 of Rhett & Moses
“It did,” I agreed, turning to face him fully. “Which brings me to tomorrow.”
“Ah yes, your mysterious plans,” Moses said, curiosity evident in his expression. “Care to share any details?”
“Just that it involves a short drive and might change how we think about the future,” I replied, deliberately vague. “Pack light. We’ll be back by evening.”
“Intriguing,” he murmured, eyes searching mine. “And slightly worrying. Should I be concerned?”
“Not at all,” I assured him, reaching for his hand. “Just trust me.”
“I do,” he said simply, those two words carrying the weight of twenty years of separation, of hurt overcome, of faith restored.
As we walked back toward the hotel, the square emptying behind us, I felt a sense of rightness settle over me. Tomorrow, I would show Moses the property I’d been considering, a beautiful old farmhouse just outside Gomillion that would make a perfect weekend retreat, a middle ground between Boston and Atlanta while we figured out our next steps.
It was a gesture, a possibility, a way of saying without words that I was committed to making this work, to finding a path forward together after twenty years apart. Whether he saw it as romantic or presumptuous remained to be seen, but I was done with half-measures where Moses Morley was concerned.
This time, I was all in.
CHAPTER 11
MOSES
The meet-and-greet had gone betterthan I could have ever anticipated. After years of avoiding Gomillion, of being the town pariah, I’d stood in the town square and been met not with scorn but with something approaching acceptance. Some old wounds had begun to heal, and new connections had been forged. Mayor Hayes’s unexpected quasi-apology still had me reeling, but in a way that felt strangely positive.
Now, as the sun set on what might have been the most transformative few days of my adult life, I found myself in my element, prepping my bar for a private celebration. Bronwyn had graciously given me the keys and the night off from official duties, with a knowing look and strict instructions not to “mess up her inventory system.”
“You’re sure she won’t mind us being here after hours?” Rhett asked, lounging against the bar as I meticulously arranged glasses and selected bottles.
“She practically threw me out and told me not to come back until tomorrow afternoon,” I replied, placing a bottle of small-batch Kentucky bourbon next to an artisanal gin from the Pacific Northwest. “Said something about me being ‘insufferablymopey’ if I didn’t ‘properly celebrate surviving this week from hell.’”
Rhett laughed, the sound warming the empty space in a way the ambient lighting couldn’t. “I’ve known Bronwyn less than a week, and that already sounds exactly like her.”
“She’s nothing if not consistent,” I agreed, smiling as I worked. “She’s been my rock through all of this, the reunion, the revelation, everything.”
“I like her,” Rhett said simply. “She cares about you. Fiercely.”
“She does,” I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude for my business partner and oldest friend. “Though she’d rather die than admit it.
I continued my preparations, setting out ingredients for cocktails with the same precision I applied to my professional mixology. Tonight felt significant, a culmination of the past week’s revelations and reconnections, but also the beginning of something new. Tomorrow, Rhett had promised to show me something that might “change how we think about the future.” The prospect both terrified and exhilarated me.
“What are you thinking about?” Rhett asked softly, watching me with those perceptive eyes that always seemed to see right through me.
“Tomorrow,” I admitted, pausing in my work. “Your mysterious surprise.”
He smiled, but didn’t offer any additional hints. “All will be revealed in due time. Tonight is about celebrating how far we’ve come this week.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” I teased, resuming my preparations. “Celebrating our survival?”
“Among other things,” he replied, his voice dropping to a register that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “I wasthinking we could toast to second chances. To truths finally told. To twenty years of wanting finally satisfied.”
The deliberate heat in his words made my hands falter slightly as I measured bitters into a small crystal bottle. “Careful,” I warned, though there was no real caution in my tone. “Keep talking like that, and we might not make it to the actual drinks.”
“Would that be so terrible?” Rhett asked, moving around the bar to stand behind me, close enough that I could feel his warmth but not quite touching.
“Bronwyn would never forgive me if we desecrated her pristine bar top,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady despite his proximity.
Rhett chuckled, the sound low and intimate in the quiet space. “Fair point. I suppose we should at least start with the drinks you’ve gone to such trouble to prepare.”
I turned to face him, finding myself caught between his body and the bar, a position that felt both vulnerable and thrilling. “I’ve been told my Old Fashioneds are worth the wait.”
