Page 72 of Rhett & Moses
Moses turned to me, his expression softening into something that still made my heart skip after all these months. “I love you, too,” he replied, reaching for my hand. “More than I sometimes know how to express.”
The sentiment resonated deeply, this feeling that conventional language was somehow inadequate to capture the fullness of what existed between us. It wasn’t just love in the romantic sense, though that remained a vibrant, essential component. It was also understanding, partnership, mutual respect, shared purpose, and a connection that had endured twenty years of separation only to emerge stronger, deeper, more complete than before.
“I think we express it well enough,” I said, squeezing his hand gently. “In the life we’re building, the choices we’re making, the ways we show up for each other day after day. Words are important, but actions tell the real story.”
Moses nodded, his smile suggesting both agreement and appreciation for the sentiment. “In that case, let me express my love by making us a proper breakfast before our guests arrive. Pancakes? Or should I attempt that frittata recipe Vanessa sent?”
“Pancakes,” I decided without hesitation. “With those blueberries we picked yesterday.”
“Good choice,” Moses approved, standing and collecting our empty coffee mugs. “Want to help, or would you rather stay out here and enjoy the morning a bit longer?”
“I’ll help,” I said, rising to join him. “Always.”
As we moved back into the house, into the kitchen that had become the heart of our home, I found myself reflecting on the journey that had brought us here, from when we were young and hiding our feelings in a small southern town, to successful professionals living separate lives in different cities, to partners creating a shared future in a place of their own choosing.
It hadn’t been a straight path, or an easy one. It had involved heartbreak and misunderstanding, years of separation and regret, difficult conversations and practical compromises. But standing in our kitchen, watching Moses gather ingredientswith practiced efficiency, I knew with absolute certainty that every detour, every obstacle, every moment of the journey had been worth it to arrive at this destination.
This was our ever after, not perfect, not without challenges, but real and rich and chosen with clear eyes and open hearts. It was the life we were building together, day by day, moment by moment, choice by choice.
And it was, by any measure, beautiful.
Moses
The Carolina countryside was bathed in silver moonlight as Rhett carried our last two champagne flutes from the garden into the house. Our wedding day, simple, intimate, and perfect, was drawing to a close. The small gathering of our closest friends and family had departed an hour earlier, leaving behind echoes of laughter, congratulations, and the sweet scent of the spring flowers that had adorned every surface of our carefully decorated garden.
I stood in our bedroom, fingers working at the buttons of my waistcoat, mind still processing the day’s events. The ceremony under the ancient oak tree, vows we’d written ourselves, the faces of those who mattered most to us reflecting nothing but joy and support. Bronwyn had tried and desperately failed to hide her tears during our first dance. Maxwell and Cole presented us with a handcrafted guest book filled with messages from friends who couldn’t attend in person. Vanessa’s toast had somehow managed to be both hilarious and deeply moving.
And through it all, Rhett, steady, radiant, and mine in a way that now carried legal weight as well as emotional certainty.
“Need help with that?” His voice from the doorway pulled me from my reverie. He stood there, jacket discarded, bow tie hanging loose around his neck, looking simultaneously disheveled and more handsome than any human had a right to be.
“My fingers seem to have lost their usual dexterity,” I admitted, abandoning the struggle with my waistcoat buttons. “Too much champagne, perhaps. Or wedding day nerves.”
Rhett smiled, crossing the room to stand before me. “Wedding day nerves? After living together for over a year? I thought we were well past the nervous stage.”
“Different kind of nerves,” I explained as his fingers made quick work of the buttons that had defeated mine. “Not uncertainty. More like... significance. The weight of the moment.”
Understanding softened his features as he slid the waistcoat from my shoulders. “I know exactly what you mean. All day, I’ve been having these moments of clarity, these flashes where I suddenly become hyper-aware that this is real, that we’re really here, that all those years apart somehow led us to this perfect moment.”
My heart swelled with recognition. “Yes. Exactly that.”
With the waistcoat disposed of, Rhett’s fingers moved to my shirt buttons, his touch deliberate in a way that sent heat coursing through me despite our familiar intimacy. We had shared countless nights together since moving into the farmhouse, had mapped each other’s bodies with thoroughness and enthusiasm that showed no signs of diminishing with time. Yet tonight felt different, weighted with symbolism, with promises newly spoken, and with the formal acknowledgment of what our hearts had known for decades.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment all day,” Rhett confessed, his voice dropping to a register that never failed to affect me. “Watching you across the garden, smiling and talking with our guests, knowing that later, when everyone was gone, I’d have you all to myself. My husband.”
The word sent a shiver through me, still new, still somewhat surreal despite the months of planning that had preceded this day. “Husband,” I repeated, testing it on my tongue as his fingers continued their deliberate path down my shirt. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I,” Rhett agreed, pushing the shirt from my shoulders to join the waistcoat on the floor. His hands came to rest on my bare chest, warm and certain. “I like everything about today. About you. About us.”
I reached up to loosen his bow tie completely, removing it with a gentle tug before starting on his shirt buttons. “Show me,” I challenged softly, holding his gaze. “Show me exactly how much you like us.”
A smile spread across his face, part tenderness, and part unmistakable desire. “With pleasure. Though I should warn you, demonstrating the full extent of my appreciation might take all night.”
“We have time,” I reminded him, sliding my hands beneath his open shirt to feel the warm skin beneath. “All the time in the world, in fact.”
Rhett’s breath caught as my fingers traced patterns across his chest, finding the sensitive spots I’d mapped through months of loving exploration. “A lifetime,” he agreed, his voice rough with emotion and growing desire.
What followed was both familiar and entirely new, the choreography of lovers who knew each other’s bodies intimately, yet approached each touch, each kiss with fresh appreciation, fresh wonder. We moved toward the bed with unhurriedpurpose, shedding remaining clothing as we went, hands never leaving each other’s skin for long.
