I gesture for Jay to get out of the car, and we stand on the walkway. I step right in front of him so I can get a clear look at his face as I tell him why we’re here.
“Okay, I’ll finally put you out of your misery. I’m buying this building.” I point and wait for his response.
He blinks a few times. “You’re buying this building? But you live in New York.”
“Not for long.” I can’t help but grin. “Once the deal closes, I’m moving here.”
“Are you serious?” His voice rockets. “You’re moving to Oregon?”
“That’s the plan.” His jaw drops, then he throws his arms around me in a hug so enthusiastic it almost knocks the wind out of me.
I hug him back, holding him tight.
The property is the practical part, but the real reason I’m doing this is him. Everything since Florida has been steering toward this one stubborn goal: to be close enough that making a life together might be possible. It’s messy and terrifying, and I want him so badly it aches, but I tuck that back in the vault for now.
He breaks away, grinning the most enormous, cheesiest grin I’ve ever seen. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you’re moving here.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until it was a done deal. We’re meeting my realtor and the inspector today. I thought you’d want to be part of it, you know, best friend privileges and all.”
“Thanks for including me,” he says, his eyes bright. “Having you nearby will be so much fun. We can explore everything: the coast, hiking trails, and every brewery from here to California.”
Watching him light up does something to me. All I want is to make him happy and give him everything he’s been denied: safety and the simple pleasures that make him smile.
My realtor and the inspector arrive, and the day turns into a never-ending walk-through and checklist discussion. I involve Jay in every conversation I can, asking him what he thinks about the layout, the storefront flow, and the mechanicals I don’t understand tucked into the basement.
He surprises me with his practical questions and his software engineer mindset: logical, detail-oriented, and curious. He’s immediately interested in the building controls and the HVAC schematics in a way I never would be, and I appreciate it. Having him here turns out to be unexpectedly helpful. I hadn’t planned on him being part of the process, but now I can’t imagine doing this without him.
The inspection uncovered some unforeseen problems. The infrastructure costs are always the highest, and the building’s heating system might jeopardize the whole deal. I figured there’d be bumps in the road, but I’m good at solving problems, so I’ll figure it out.
By late afternoon, Jay and I are exhausted. Before we left Portland, I told him to pack a bag just in case. A hotel room together feels awkward and small, but I can’t help myself. It’s selfish and perhaps a bit reckless, but after today—seeing him lean in and genuinely care about something that matters to me—I want more of this.
We’re staying in the same hotel as before; the room looks nearly identical, with scenic, life-sized photos of Astoria decorating the walls. I let him go into the bathroom first so I can pull myself together.
Every time we’re alone, it becomes harder to keep my feelings in check. I haven’t slept with anyone since him, and those memories replay in a loop. If I let myself dwell on it, I know I’ll do something stupid, like kiss the shit out of him, so I force my mind to focus elsewhere.
Jay emerges in a thin T-shirt and sleep pants, barefoot, and I have to look away. Bare feet are a weak spot for me. Grabbing my toiletry bag and pajamas, I slip into the bathroom. I usually sleep naked, but not tonight. I’ll be tangled in clothes under the covers.
When I crawl into bed, Jay is scrolling on his phone in the opposite bed, his face lit by the glow of the screen.
We say goodnight and turn off the lights. The room feels too small for everything I’m thinking. I’m exhausted, but sleep won’t come—my mind is full of business plans and a future I keep tryingnot to map too loudly. Reminding myself over and over to be patient: Jay needs this time, and I’ll give it to him.
I’m heading back to New York tomorrow morning with a strong sense of momentum. The inspection went as well as it could, and I made the decision to buy the coffee shop, so there are more details to work out. That’s the practical side; the rest of the week has been the perfect distraction.
Spending time with Jay is always at the top of my list. We wandered through Astoria, visited a few great restaurants and breweries, and he laughed like the old Jay is quietly making a comeback. The years with Ray robbed him of his lightness and goofiness, and seeing that return has been an enormous joy. He jokes around, teases me, and makes me laugh until my sides hurt.
If the building ever collapses into a pile of unexpected repairs, those moments alone would make it all worth it.
All of it makes me hopeful. I’m getting closer to calling this place home, and even closer to being near Jay. Tomorrow, I head home to tackle the overwhelming paperwork and work on the logistics, but I’m not leaving empty-handed. I’m bringing back a week that felt like tremendous progress.
The party for Ronda is in full swing, filled with her friends, too many homemade desserts, and the awkward little subplot of me getting congratulated on my accomplishments by folks I’ve just met. Jay and Ronda are doing everything they can to make me feel included.
Heather is cool and measured with me. I get it—she’s fiercely protective and tries to steer things the way she thinks is best. Sometimes that comes off as bossy, but I know it comes from love and a lawyer’s instinct to control what she can.
She appears beside me with a beer. “So, Jay tells me you’re moving to Oregon.”
“Yeah. Hopefully, in the next few months. I’m buying a property in Astoria.”
“Could we have a word outside?” she asks, nodding toward the patio off the kitchen.
