He continued, voice low. “I didn’t know what home felt like. Not really. Not until you. Not until this.” His thumb stroked my jaw. “You’re my safest place. My sanity.”
A tear slid before I realized it had formed. He wiped it away instantly.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Sorry,” I sniffed. “I’m emotional because the house we’re buying has a broken porch step and questionable wiring, and somehow I’mexcitedabout fixing it up with you, which is alarming on multiple levels.”
He laughed softly. “That’s not why you’re emotional.”
“No,” I admitted. “It’s not.”
“Tell me.”
I pressed my palms to his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath them. “Because this feels right. Because I never thought I’d get this. Because you make the lodge feel different. Because I used to think the future was something to outrun, and now when I imagine it… You’re in it.”
He kissed me with something so full of love I barely remembered to breathe.
When he pulled back, his eyes were bright. “Good. Because I plan on being in it.”
I grinned, wiping my eyes. “Well, you kind of have to be. We’re getting married in four weeks.”
“That’s true,” he said solemnly. “Contractually binding.”
“Four weeks,” I repeated, a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in my stomach.
He brushed his fingers down my arm. “You sure you’re ready?”
“Yes,” I said immediately and laughed. “And I’m shocked how easily that came out.”
He cupped my face with both hands. “You’re allowed to want things now.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to stay.”
“I know.”
“And you’re allowed”—he leaned close, lips brushing mine—“to be ridiculously in love.”
I groaned against his smile. “God, you’re making it impossible to keep pretending I’m not.”
He kissed me again, slow and sure. “Good.”
We stood there for a moment, just breathing each other in, wrapped in the kind of silence that felt like belonging.
After a while, I pulled back and glanced at the plans again. “We need to talk about the upstairs layout. I still think the office should be facing the lake.”
“You want a lake view so you can procrastinate,” he said.
“You want the office facing the woods so you can pretend you live in a hermit hut.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.”
I laughed and nudged him. “You know, for a guy who used to live out of a backpack, you’re surprisingly opinionated about floor plans.”
“And for a woman who used to plan spontaneous trips to remote places, you’re surprisingly excited about installing a dishwasher.”
I gasped. “Do not mock my dishwasher dreams.”
