Page 61 of Rhett & Moses
There was a moment of surprised silence before Rhett’s voice returned, warm with excitement. “I would love that. But what about Bronwyn? The bar?”
“She just spent a week handling everything without me,” I pointed out. “And she’s been telling me to take more time off for years. I think she’d be thrilled to have me out of her hair for a few more days. The new shift pattern we’ve decided is working so much better.”
“Then yes,” Rhett said, his enthusiasm clear even through the phone connection. “Absolutely yes. I want to show you Boston, my firm, and my favorite spots in the city.”
“And your apartment,” I added, smiling to myself as I pictured the space; modern and creative, I imagined it reflecting its owner’s personality.
“Especially my apartment,” he agreed, his voice dropping to a register that sent a pleasant shiver through me despite the physical distance already growing between us. “My very private, very well-soundproofed apartment.”
I laughed, the ache in my chest easing as we fell into the comfortable banter that had always come naturally to us. “I’ll book a flight as soon as I get home. Send you the details.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he promised. “Drive safely, Moses. Call me when you stop.”
“I will,” I assured him. “Love you.”
The words still felt new on my tongue, but it felt right, as if they had been waiting all these years to be spoken.
“Love you, too,” he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
As we ended the call, I turned on the radio, settling in for the long drive ahead. The music filled the car, upbeat and optimistic, matching my mood despite the rain that had begun to fall again.
Three months would pass quickly, I knew it would. And then decisions would need to be made, practical challenges faced, compromises negotiated. But for the first time in twenty years, I was moving toward something rather than away from it: toward love, toward truth, toward the life I wanted rather than the one circumstances had dictated.
The road to Atlanta stretched before me, but it was no longer the only path I could imagine. There was Boston now, and potentially a countryside home in Carolina, and whatever other possibilities might emerge as Rhett, and I charted this new course together.
As I merged onto the interstate, leaving Gomillion firmly behind, I felt a sense of rightness settle over me. Whatever came next, whatever decisions awaited, whatever challenges emerged, I would face them openly, honestly, with both feet planted firmly in the future rather than the past.
And I wouldn’t be facing them alone.
CHAPTER 16
RHETT
The drivefrom Gomillion to Boston took longer than I’d anticipated. The unexpected construction delays, a sudden summer thunderstorm that reduced visibility to almost nothing, and my own reluctance to rush away from the South, from the invisible tether connecting me to Moses as he drove in the opposite direction.
We’d called each other at every rest stop, maintaining contact even as the physical distance between us grew. His voice in my car speakers had been a balm for the ache of separation, making the long drive more bearable. Still, by the time I finally pulled into my assigned parking spot beneath my Boston apartment building, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones.
Home. The concept felt different now, less certain, more fluid. The sleek high-rise that had represented achievement and stability for the past five years suddenly seemed temporary, transitional, a way station rather than a destination.
I gathered my luggage from the trunk, nodding a greeting to the night doorman as I made my way through the quiet lobby to the elevator. It was well past midnight, the building hushed and dimly lit. The elevator rose smoothly to the twelfth floor, doorsopening with a soft chime that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.
My apartment welcomed me with the sterile perfection I’d left it in, everything in its place, surfaces clear, not a speck of dust to be seen. The cleaning service had been thorough during my absence, as scheduled. It was exactly as I’d left it, yet it felt different somehow. Emptier. Lacking the warmth and life I’d experienced over the past week in Gomillion.
I dropped my bags in the entryway, too tired to unpack properly, and moved through the dark apartment by memory and the ambient city light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the bedroom, I didn’t bother turning on the lights, simply stripping down to my boxers and falling into bed.
Despite my exhaustion, sleep proved elusive. I reached for my phone, knowing it was too late to call Moses but needing some connection. A text had come through while I’d been parking the car:
Home safe. The apartment feels strange without you, even though you’ve never been here. Three days until Boston. Miss you already.
I smiled into the darkness, typing a reply:
Just got in. Feeling the same strangeness. Can’t wait for Wednesday. Sleep well, love.
Setting the phone aside, I stared at the ceiling, processing the whirlwind of the past week, the revelations, the reconnections, the decisions and plans we’d made. It still felt somewhat surreal, as if I might wake tomorrow to discover it had all been an elaborate dream.
But it wasn’t a dream. Moses loved me. We were building a future together. After twenty years of separation, of wondering what might have been, we’d found our way back to each other.
With that comforting thought, I finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a white farmhouse surrounded by trees, of Moses moving through sunlit rooms, of a life we might create together.
