Page 179 of At First Spark
“You’re doing that thing again,” Hadley says.
“What thing?”
She gestures vaguely in Holt’s direction. “That look.”
I don’t bother asking what she means because I already know.
I slip my arm free from hers. “I’ll be back.”
She smirks. “Oh, I know you will.”
I ignore that too.
Crossing the lawn feels different from the way it did months ago. Back then, every step felt like a decision. A calculation. A careful balancing of what I was risking against what I was gaining. Now, it just feels like walking toward something that’s already mine.
Holt doesn’t move when I approach. He just watches me come closer, his gaze steady in a way that has become its own kind of anchor.
“You’re supposed to be hosting,” he says when I stop in front of him.
“I am.”
“This looks a lot like abandoning your guests.”
“They’ll survive.”
His mouth curves a little more at that.
“They always do.”
For a second, we just stand there, the noise of the party drifting around us, the world continuing in motion while something quieter settles between us.
I glance toward the carriage house, or where it used to be. The new structure stands in its place now—not identical, not trying to be, but similar. The lines are cleaner, the materials newer, but the purpose remains the same.
Holt follows my gaze.
“You still thinking about it?” he asks.
“Sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
I look back at him. “Do you?”
His expression shifts slightly, something more thoughtful settling in.
“Less than I thought I would,” he admits. “More than I expected.”
“It’s not the same,” I say.
“No.”
“But it’s where we met.”
His gaze holds mine. “It’s our moment.”
I take a step closer without thinking about it, closing the space between us until I can feel the warmth of him again, the familiarity of it grounding in a way that doesn’t feel new anymore.
It feels like something I’ve chosen enough times to trust.
