Page 67 of Rhett & Moses
Rhett’s eyes met mine in the mirror, understanding without further explanation. He rinsed his mouth, set his toothbrush beside mine in the holder, another small domestic detail that never failed to move me, and turned to face me directly.
“Me too,” he said simply. “Every day, in fact.”
We settled into bed, finding our natural positions, Rhett on his back, me curled against his side, his arm around my shoulders. The familiarity of it, the rightness, still amazed me sometimes. That after twenty years apart, our bodies remembered each other, accommodated each other, as if no time had passed at all.
“I was thinking,” Rhett said into the darkness, his voice thoughtful. “About the distillery. About timing.”
“Mmm?” I prompted, already half drifting toward sleep.
“The Carolina house will be ready by spring. The distillery renovations, assuming no major delays, should be complete by late winter. It’s almost perfect synchronicity.”
I considered this, appreciating the neat alignment of our various projects. “True. Though knowing construction timelines, I’m not holding my breath for either to be exactly on schedule.”
“Fair point,” Rhett acknowledged. “But even with some delays, we’re looking at a major life transition in the next six months or so. New home, new business venture, new chapter for both of us.”
The observation was accurate, and I felt a flutter of both excitement and nervousness at the scale of the changes ahead. “It’s a lot,” I admitted. “But it feels right. Timing-wise, I mean. I’m ready for it.”
“Me too,” Rhett agreed, his arm tightening slightly around me. “More than ready.”
We fell quiet then, the comfortable silence of two people who no longer needed to fill every moment with words. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone chimed with an incoming message. I considered ignoring it, but professional habit, years of being available for bar emergencies, had me reaching for the device.
“It’s Maxwell,” I murmured, squinting at the screen in the darkness. “Says he’s got a surprise for us tomorrow. Something about bringing an old friend to dinner.”
Rhett made a questioning sound, already half asleep himself. “Wonder who?”
“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” I replied, setting the phone aside and settling back into our comfortable position.
As sleep claimed me, I found myself looking forward to the morning, to brunch with Bronwyn, to dinner with Maxwell and Cole and their mysterious guest. Simple pleasures, ordinary moments in an increasingly extraordinary life. And at the center of it all, Rhett, my past, my present, my future, all wrapped in one steadfast presence.
“You did not!” I exclaimed, staring in disbelief at the man sitting across from us at the upscale restaurant Maxwell had chosen for our dinner meeting. “Chicago? Really?”
Maxwell laughed, his arm slung casually across the back of Cole’s chair. “I told you he’d be surprised. Moses never believes anything good can happen without excessive planning and worry.”
“That’s not true,” I protested, though the claim hit uncomfortably close to home. “I just... Chicago is a big move from Gomillion. A big adjustment.”
Beside me, Rhett squeezed my knee gently beneath the table, a silent reminder that I, of all people, should understand the courage it took to make such a significant life change.
“It’s been an adjustment,” our dinner companion acknowledged with a smile. “But a good one. The art scene there is incredible, and I’ve found a supportive community almost immediately.”
I shook my head, still processing the unexpected reunion. Maxwell and Cole’s surprise guest had turned out to be none other than Vanessa, one of the few people from Gomillion who had consistently stood by me through the years.
“When did all this happen?” I asked, trying to piece together the timeline. “Last I heard, you were still in Gomillion, trying to repair things with your father after the reunion week fallout.”
Vanessa’s expression turned rueful. “That was the plan. But after a few particularly difficult conversations, it became clear that reconciliation would require compromises I wasn’t willing to make.”
“So, you just... left?” Rhett asked, his tone suggesting both admiration and concern. “Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“I didn’t think it would happen. Not quite that quickly though,” Vanessa began. “I’d been considering a change for years, honestly. The gallery job in Gomillion was comfortable but not challenging. When a former college classmate reached out about an opportunity in Chicago, assistant director at a contemporary art museum, it felt like perfect timing.”
“I connected with her when she first moved to the city,” Maxwell explained. “Cole and I were there for a conference. When we realized we’d all be in Atlanta this weekend, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for a reunion.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said sincerely, raising my glass in a small toast to Vanessa. “To new beginnings. If anyone deserves it, you do.”
“Speaking of which,” Cole interjected with a meaningful glance at Rhett and me, “rumor has it you two have some news of your own. Something about a property purchase?”
I exchanged a look with Rhett, silently confirming we were ready to share our plans more widely. He nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“We’ve bought a place together,” I confirmed, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “A farmhouse in the Carolina countryside, about halfway between Atlanta and Boston. The renovations are nearly complete, we’re hoping to be fully moved in by spring.”
