Page 68 of Rhett & Moses
“That’s wonderful!” Vanessa exclaimed, genuine delight lighting her features. “Though I have to say, I’m not entirely surprised. The way you two reconnected during reunion week... it seemed inevitable that you’d find a way to be together.”
“Nothing about it felt inevitable at the time,” Rhett commented with a wry smile. “But looking back, I suppose there was a certain... momentum to it all.”
“Momentum,” I repeated, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Is that what architects call it when two people reconnect after twenty years and decide to build a life together within the space of a week?”
“Among other things,” Rhett replied, his eyes warm with affection that still made my heart skip after all these months.
The conversation flowed easily from there, catching up on each other’s lives, sharing plans and possibilities, reminiscing about the eventful reunion that had set so many changes in motion. By the time dessert arrived, it felt as if no time had passed since we’d all been together in Gomillion, despite the significant life transformations each of us had undergone.
“And the distillery?” Maxwell asked, steering the conversation back to our professional ventures. “Moses mentioned you’re in the planning stages. Will it be an extension of the bar, or something entirely new?”
“Both, in a way,” I explained, warming to the topic that had consumed so much of my creative energy lately. “We’re calling it ‘Distilled Dreams 2.0’. It's a homage to the original gin bar in Atlanta, but expanded to include production facilities. We’ll craft small-batch gins on site, offer tastings and tours, and partner with local botanicals suppliers. It’s the evolution of what I’ve been building at Timbers & Tallboys, but with the scale and focus to really explore gin-making as an art form.”
“And Rhett’s designing the space?” Cole asked, his eyes glistened in interest. As someone who worked at Gratizé Accountants they had their fair share of architects on the books, he clearly appreciated the professional collaboration aspect.
“Every inch of it,” I confirmed, pride evident in my voice. “He’s created something incredible, modern but warm, functional but beautiful. It’s the perfect blend of our aesthetics.”
“The perfect blend of our skills,” Rhett corrected gently. “Moses knows gin. I know spaces. Together, we’re creating something neither of us could have achieved alone.”
The simple summary captured the essence of our partnership, both professional and personal. We each brought distinct strengths, perspectives, and experiences to the relationship, creating something stronger and more complete than our individual parts.
“When’s the grand opening?” Vanessa asked. “I’d love to come down from Chicago for it, if the timing works.”
“Aiming for late spring,” I told her. “Sometime after we’re settled in the Carolina house. You’re definitely on the guest list, all of you are.”
“Speaking of guests,” Maxwell said, his tone shifting to something more hesitant. “Have you heard from your parents at all, Moses? Since the reunion, I mean?”
The question caught me off guard, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. Maxwell had known me since childhood, had witnessed firsthand the complicated dynamics of my family relationships. His concern came from a place of genuine care. He knew the pain as he’d experienced it himself.
“Not directly,” I admitted, feeling Rhett’s hand find mine beneath the table. “My mother sends the occasional text, weather updates, and impersonal pleasantries. My father remains... resistant. But I’ve made my peace with that. Some relationships can’t be forced, no matter how much history binds you.”
“I’m sorry,” Maxwell said simply, genuine regret in his expression.
“Don’t be,” I assured him, squeezing Rhett’s hand in silent gratitude for his unwavering support on this difficult topic. “I have a family. Not the one I was born into, perhaps, but the one I’ve chosen. That’s more than enough.”
The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, Maxwell’s latest clients at Gratizé Accountants, and how Cole copes with his demands, to Vanessa’s adjustment to Chicago winters. By the time we said our goodbyes in the restaurant parking lot, we had exchanged promises to visit each other, and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for these connections that had endured despite time and distance.
“That was nice,” Rhett commented as we drove back to my apartment, the Atlanta skyline glittering against the night sky. “Unexpected, but nice.”
“Very unexpected,” I agreed, thinking of Vanessa’s surprising new life in Chicago. “Though I’m glad for her. She deserves a fresh start, away from all the Hayes family drama.”
“As do you,” Rhett pointed out. “And you’re getting it. We both are.”
The simple observation settled over me like a warm blanket. He was right, of course. The Carolina property, the distillery, our gradually intertwining lives, all of it represented a fresh start, a new chapter unburdened by the secrets and misunderstandings of the past.
“Do you ever wonder,” I asked as we waited at a red light, “what would have happened if we hadn’t gone to the reunion? If we’d both continued our separate lives, never reconnecting?”
Rhett considered the question seriously, as he did all questions. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But not with regret or anxiety. More with... gratitude, I suppose. For whatever confluence of timing, courage and circumstance brought us back together when it did.”
“Fate?” I suggested, half-teasing him.
“Design,” he countered with a smile. “Intention meeting opportunity. I like good architecture.”
“Or good gin,” I added, appreciating his perspective. “The right elements coming together at the right moment, under the right conditions.”
“Exactly,” Rhett agreed as the light turned green. “Though I’d like to think we would have found our way back to each other eventually, reunion or no reunion. Some connections are too fundamental to remain severed indefinitely.”
The certainty in his voice, the unwavering faith in what existed between us, filled me with a matching confidence. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps we would have found each other again through some other means, some other circumstance. But I was grateful it had happened when it did, and how it did; setting in motion all the positive changes that now defined my life.
