Page 158 of Sunrise & Serenity

Mia reaches across the table and squeezes my hand again. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Sterling looks mildly suspicious when I corner him outside the equipment shed the next morning. “Last time I saw that expression, we ended up with an art installation.”

I can’t suppress my smile. “You like it, though.”

He scratches at the stubble on his chin. “I do.”

“I’m hoping you’ll like this too.” I pull out the folder tucked beneath my arm and hold it out to him.

His brows pull together as he looks down at it. “What’s this?”

I take a deep breath and will my nerves to settle. “It’s a proposal.”

He takes it, but he stares at me for a second before opening it. For the next several minutes, while I do my best not to fidget, he flips through the pages I put together last night. Photography workshops. Guest trail-ride sessions. Seasonal retreats. Visual storytelling for the ranch and lodge. Long-term branding ideas for Wild Ember.

It’s all there. Everything I could think of that could make staying here actually work.

He finally looks up. “You did all this?”

“Yeah. Um. On very little sleep, I admit.”

A huff escapes him. “That explains the insanity.”

I hope my grimace comes across as a confident smile.

Face serious, he flips through the proposal again. “You really think this will help with brand differentiation?”

“I know it would.”

Head tilted, he studies me. “You want to stay.”

It’s not a question, and my chest tightens. “Yes.” The word comes quietly, but it’s steady.

Slowly, he closes the folder. “What about going back to New York?”

I glance toward the lodge, where it catches the sunlight. Toward the pastures stretching gold beneath the mountains. Then I look back at him.

“I think I already left New York a while ago.”

For a second, he examines me, his mind clearly working. “It might not pay well to start with. It’ll take time to build it up.”

I try to suppress my smile. “That’s okay with me.”

“All right.” He tucks the folder under his arm. “Guess we’d better figure out where to set up your studio.”

The breath leaves my lungs in a startled laugh. “Seriously?”

“You’re good at this.” He considers the lodge. “You see the things the rest of us stopped noticing.”

Emotion rises so suddenly that it catches me off guard. I blink hard, fighting tears, and I look away. For the first time in years, the future in front of me feels less like something I’m supposed to chase and more like somewhere I actually want to be.

Later that night, I sit on the porch of my little cabin with my laptop on my knees, the residency email open on the screen. Crickets hum as the light above the door illuminates the keyboard beneath my hands.

Three months ago, the portfolio I submitted felt like the best work I’d ever done. Now I know better. Three months ago, a year in Milan dedicated to perfecting my art would’ve been a dream.

Now I have a new dream.

I let my gaze drift back over the offer one last time. International exhibitions. Mentorship. Opportunities most photographers would spend a lifetime chasing.