Chapter 10 - Every Moment Still Begins
The sun was dipping low over the Cooper River, casting long, golden ribbons across the wide veranda of the carriage house on Meeting Street.
Inside, the scent of fresh rosemary and baking bread filled the air—simple, unpretentious, and made with joy rather than obligation. There were no grand ballroom galas, no politicians drinking scotch in back rooms, and no two hundred guests watching to see what kind of image we projected to the world.
Just the two of us.
Graham stood at the kitchen island, clumsily chopping red onions with intense, over-focused concentration, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He muttered a quiet curse under his breath as a piece rolled off the cutting board, making me laugh out loud from the doorway.
“You know, for a billionaire corporate executive, your knife skills are appalling,” I teased, leaning against the doorframe with a glass of sparkling water in my hand.
Graham paused, looking over his shoulder with a mock-indignant grin. “Hey. In my defense, the culinary arts were never part of my corporate strategy portfolio.”
“Clearly,” I smiled, walking over and stepping up beside him.
Without a word, he set the chef's knife down, wiped his hands on a kitchen towel, and wrapped his arms gently around my waist, pulling me close against his chest. I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of cedar, rain, and clean cotton.
On the kitchen counter nearby, resting beside a simple vase of wildflowers, lay our restored wedding rings—not the heavy, expensive custom bands we had worn during our decade of illusion, but the original, slightly worn gold rings we had exchanged on a windy bluff in Asheville ten years ago, resized and polished down to their honest, unpretentious core.
“Are you happy, Elena?” he whispered into my hair, his voice rich with quiet reverence.
I turned in his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck, looking deep into the eyes of the man who had lost everything just to find out what truly mattered.
May you like
“I am,” I whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Every moment still begins with us.”
And for the first time in our lives, those words weren't a strategy, a public relations pitch, or an inscription hidden behind a locked safe. They were simply the truth.
