"And then he already knew," I chuckle at the memory. "I should have given him more credit."
"Dad always sees more than people think," Ellie agrees. "Like how he knew you'd make an excellent Chief long before you believed it yourself."
I squeeze her hand gently. "I had good teachers. Your father. You."
She raises an eyebrow. "Me?"
"You taught me that letting people in doesn't make you weak," I say simply. "That vulnerability takes more courage than running into burning buildings."
Her eyes shine in the candlelight, and I know I've touched her with my honesty. Five years together, and she still looks at me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to her—when I know with absolute certainty that she's the best thing that's ever happened to me.
"I have something for you," I say, reaching into my jacket pocket. "I know we said no gifts this year, but..."
I pull out a small velvet pouch and place it in her palm. She looks at me with an eyebrow arched before loosening the drawstring and tipping the contents into her hand.
It's a key. Simple, brass, ordinary in every way except for what it represents.
"Grant?" she questions, turning it over in her fingers.
"It's for the cabin," I explain. "At Cedar Lake. The sale went through this morning."
Her eyes widen. "You bought it? The one with the dock and the big windows?"
I nod, warmth spreading through my chest at her reaction. We've been talking about a getaway place for months—somewhere to escape on weekends, somewhere private, just for us.
"It needs work," I caution. "The deck is unstable, the kitchen's straight out of 1975, and there's a suspicious stain on the living room ceiling."
"It's perfect," she breathes, closing her fingers around the key. "When can we see it?"
"Tomorrow, if you want. It's now ours."
Ours. The word still sends a thrill through me, even after five years of sharing my life with her. My wife. My partner. My home.
Ellie leans across the table, closing the distance between us.
"I love you, Grant Walker," she whispers just before her lips meet mine in a kiss that tastes like promises kept and adventures still to come.
"I love you too," I murmur against her mouth, not caring who might be watching. "Always have. Always will."
As we settle back to the menus we've practically memorized, I take in the sight of her—this remarkable woman who saw past my defenses, who chose me despite every complication, who continues to choose me every day.
Five years ago, I thought I was risking everything by loving her. Now I know the truth: the only real risk would have been letting her go.
