Page 56 of Rhett & Moses
We cling together, water sluicing over us, breathing hard. It feels like the world has stopped turning and we are stuck in one moment in time. The place where it all began and where we finally got it right.
“It’s getting late,” Moses observed eventually, though he made no move to leave our spot. “Past midnight, I’d guess.”
“Probably,” I agreed, equally reluctant to end this perfect moment. “Though I’m not sure the time matters much. It’s not like either of us has early commitments tomorrow.”
Our final day in Gomillion stretched before us, open, unscheduled, our last chance to be together before returning toour separate cities. The realization brought a bittersweet quality to the night.
“What should we do with our last day here?” Moses asked, seemingly following my train of thought.
I considered the question, mentally reviewing the possibilities. “Whatever we want,” I decided. “Sleep late. Maybe brunch at that café we liked. One last walk around town, perhaps. Or we could drive back out to the property, spend more time exploring it in daylight.”
“All of that sounds perfect,” Moses said. “Though I should stop by the bar briefly to check in with Bronwyn, make sure everything’s set for my absence.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “We have all day. No rush, no agenda.”
Moses nodded, satisfaction in his expression. “A day just for us. I like that.”
Moses got out of the pool, and I followed him, we don’t have a towel, but put our clothes back on before we froze to death.
He stood then, offering his hand to help me up from our seated position where we were putting our shoes on. But instead of starting back toward the trail immediately, he pulled me close, his arms encircling my waist as he looked up at me in the moonlight.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For coming back to Gomillion. For not giving up on me, on us, even when you had every reason to. For showing me this future, I hadn’t dared to imagine.”
The simple sincerity of his words touched something deep inside me. I cupped his face in my hands, studying the features that had matured over twenty years but remained essentially, beautifully Moses.
“Thank you for being brave enough to tell your truth,” I replied. “For letting me back into your life. For being willing tobuild something new with me, even though it won’t be simple or easy.”
Our kiss was gentle at first, a seal on the promises and plans we’d made, but quickly deepened into something more urgent. Twenty years of separation, a week of rediscovery, and the prospect of another separation, though temporary, lent a poignancy to the embrace.
When we finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Moses’s eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and tenderness.
“We should head back,” he suggested, though his tone conveyed reluctance.
Hand in hand, we made our way back along the moonlit trail, the falls receding behind us as we returned to town. The walk was mostly silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts, yet connected by the physical contact between us.
As we approached the edge of town, the distant steeple of Gomillion’s oldest church just visible in the moonlight, Moses squeezed my hand to get my attention.
“One more thing I wanted to ask,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of seriousness. “Have you considered where we might end up eventually? If the three-month plan works out, if we decide to move forward with the property. Would you ever consider... Atlanta?”
The question caught me by surprise, not because I hadn’t thought about it but because I hadn’t expected Moses to broach the topic so directly.
“I’ve thought about it,” I admitted. “Atlanta, Boston, somewhere new entirely. There are advantages and challenges to each option.”
Moses nodded, processing my non-answer with patience. “We don’t have to decide now,” he clarified. “It’s just been on my mind.”
“Mine too,” I assured him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m open to Atlanta. My work has been shifting toward smaller, more personal projects that could be managed from anywhere with good transportation links. And Atlanta has a thriving architectural scene.”
A smile spread across Moses’s face, illuminated by a streetlight as we reached the edge of the residential area. “Really? You’ve researched the Atlanta architecture market?”
Caught out in my advance planning, I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. “I may have done some preliminary research. Just exploring options, understanding the landscape. Professional curiosity.”
“Professional curiosity,” Moses repeated, his tone teasing. “Of course.”
“What about you?” I countered, deflecting attention from my own forward thinking. “Have you considered Boston?”
