“This isn’t about fixing your lodge,” I say. “It’s about building something together. If you want to.”
She flips through the pages slowly, her expression unreadable.
“I’m not asking you to wait a year,” I say. “I’m asking you to let me invest my time here. My energy. My future.”
She looks up. “Your contract?—”
“Is one year,” I say. “And it’s flexible. I’ve already talked to them about running clinics remotely during the off-season. About reducing travel when possible.”
Her breath catches.
“I have to see things through with the team I have now. But when it’s over, I want something else. I want this. I want us.” I swallow hard. “I don’t want to live in two worlds anymore. I want one. With you and Scottie.”
Silence stretches, thick and terrifying.
Finally, she looks at me fully. “Why now?”
“Because losing you scared me more than losing my job,” I say simply.
Her eyes fill.
“I didn’t choose clearly before,” I add. “I am now.”
She closes the envelope and holds it to her chest.
“You can’t promise forever,” she says.
“No,” I admit. “None of us can. But I’m promising effort. Commitment. Showing up. And if someday you decide this isn’t enough, I’ll respect that.”
She swallows hard.
“And Scottie?”
“I would never treat her like something temporary,” I say. “Ever.”
She steps closer.
“This scares me,” she says quietly.
“Me too.”
“But I love your plans,” she says. “And I love that you didn’t assume.”
“Good, because I love you.”
She gasps. “You do?”
“Absolutely. Any chance you might be able to love you too?”
She nods. “Loving you has never been the problem.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Is that… a yes?”
She smiles through tears. “It’s a chance.”
I pull her into my arms, careful and reverent, like I’m holding something fragile and precious. She melts into me, the tension leaving her body in a rush.
“I’m really proud of you,” she whispers.
