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I put all the food away, saving it for tomorrow night, and make myself a grilled cheese instead. By the time Van gets home, it’s nearly eight thirty. He drops his duffel bag at the door, and I don’t even have a chance to pull my depressed ass off the couch before he’s straddling my lap, one knee sinking into the cushions on either side of me, hands in my hair, thumbs under my chin, tipping my head back.
“I missed you so much.” His eyes search mine for a moment, hot and needy and desperate, before he slants his mouth over mine.
We don’t make it to the bedroom, instead frantically stripping in the middle of the living room. The coffee table gets shoved out of the way. We nearly break a lamp, and the couch creaks ominously beneath us, but we both seem to need the connection in a way that defies logic and reason. Also, the couch is seven million years old and probably needs to be replaced.
Half an hour and two orgasms later, I’m wearing Van’s dress shirt and nothing else, and he’s in boxers and a pair of sweats. It’s too cold to go shirtless, so eventually he pulls on a Henley, and we snuggle on the couch.
“I’m sorry I was so late getting home.” He kisses my temple.
“It’s okay, I know it’s been busy.”
“Mmm.” He plays with my fingers. “It has been. Busier than I anticipated, really. I actually had a meeting with my boss this evening about my contract.”
“Oh?” I tip my head up to meet his gaze.
He seems nervous. “I showed him some of the designs I was working on while I was here this summer. They wanted to shift me into lead architect for one of our big clients.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably. “That sounds amazing. What exactly does that entail?”
“I’d be the lead for an entire project. So if a client wants a new green space designed, I’d oversee everything from an architectural standpoint. I’d have a team working under me and everything.”
“That’s incredible.” I know from my time doing project management that managing a team is a huge job, especially in a big company. He’ll have to work longer hours and be in the city probably more than he already is. I want to be happy for him, but I don’t know what that means for us.
“It is, but I said I couldn’t take it unless they gave me flex hours.”
“Flex hours? Why?”
“Because I decided I don’t love long-distance relationships or being away from you for five days at a time. So I said I’d take the position, but only if they cut my in-office time to three days a week.”
“What did they say?” My heart is in my throat, and I try to tamp down my hope.
“That they would do their best to accommodate my request, and I’ll still get the raise. There will be times when I’m needed more, but usually I’ll only need to be in the city a few days a week at most. I can supplement with virtual meetings when they’re necessary.”
“And this is what you want?”
“Absolutely. There are things I want to do here, like getting the garage loft finished, starting the cottage renovations, and cleaning up the beach come spring. If I’m in the city most of the time, I won’t be able to tackle any of those things effectively or efficiently. Besides, I love you more than I love this job, and I don’t want anything to jeopardize that.”
“What about your family? What about Teagan and your dad?”
“I’ll still see them when I’m in the city, and they’re not far. I want more days with you than without you. I want to put down roots and build a life, and I want to do that here, with you.”
EPILOGUE
MATCHMAKER IN HEAVEN
Van
Six months later
It’s a work-from-home day, and I’ve already tackled all my calls and emails early this morning, leaving my afternoon free. Three days a week in the city is turning out to be the perfect arrangement. There are times when I have to pull long days to make it work, and in the winter months I make sure all three days are back to back so I can make long weekends a regular thing. It’s been a juggling act, but it’s absolutely worth it.
Because it means I get to do the thing I love and be with the person I love more than I’m without her.
“Do you have another box? I’ve already filled this one.” Dillion folds the flaps over and scrawls the words FRAMED PHOTOS across the top of it.
“Yup, got another one right here.” I pass her the empty box and take the full one, moving it to the porch.
We’re getting ready to paint, which means we have to take all the photos off the walls. And there are a lot of them. Probably close to a hundred. As soon as the ice was off the lake, we started preparing the cottage for renos. Over the winter we renovated one of the bathrooms, and we tackled the kitchen this spring. We’ve also started on the garage, which meant ripping off the roof and building up, so we could turn it into a loft apartment and still keep the storage space under it. Dillion’s brother and Aaron are doing all the work according to my specs, and so far it all looks fantastic.
