“Well,” he says softly, tugging the brim of his hat lower to hide his face, “guess I’m gonna have to get used to being the first.”
I turn to face him, taking in the vulnerability beneath his confident exterior. This man flew across an ocean for me, stood by me through Olympic pressure, and now he's created a space that honors my work, my passion.
“It's perfect,” I tell him, rising on tiptoes to press my lips to his. “Absolutely perfect.”
He visibly relaxes, arms coming around my waist. “I wasn't sure if you'd want your own space or—”
“Grant Taylor,” I interrupt, resting my hands on his chest, “are you asking me to move in with you?”
“I'm giving you options,” he clarifies. “This cottage is yours. My place is yours too, if you want it. Hell, we could split time between both if that works. I just want you in my life, Mia. However that looks.”
The sincerity in his voice melts something frozen inside me—that part that always planned escape routes, that kept belongings minimal for quick departures.
“There's something else I need to show you,” he says, taking my hand again. “Something that might help with the decision.”
We return to the truck and drive the short distance to his property. Instead of turning toward the house, he follows a newly graveled path that curves behind his barn.
When we crest the small hill, I gasp.
There, nestled perfectly into the landscape, is the outline of what can only be a swimming pool—not the typical backyard variety, but a professional-length lap pool currently under construction.
“What did you do?” I whisper, emotion threatening to choke me.
“Talked to Suzi,” he explains, parking the truck. “Asked what you'd need to maintain Olympic-level training between competitions. She sent specs.” He gestures toward the construction. “Fifty meters, temperature-controlled, with resistance jets if you want to simulate current.”
I step out of the truck on shaky legs, moving closer to the in-progress pool. The excavation is complete, with concrete forms outlining what will eventually be my training facility.
“You built this for me?” My voice cracks on the question.
“Building,” he corrects, coming to stand beside me. “Construction company says another two months before it's swimmable.”
I turn to face him, tears streaming freely now. “Why?”
“Because I know how much swimming means to you. Because I never want you to feel like loving me means giving up part of yourself.” He reaches up to brush away my tears with his thumb.“Because I love watching you in the water, Mia. You become something magical, something entirely yourself.”
I launch myself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as I press my face against his chest. His heart beats steady and strong beneath my ear, a rhythm I've come to rely on.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his chest.
His strong arms tighten around me. “Don't thank me yet. Wait till you see my attempts at pool maintenance. Disaster waiting to happen.”
I laugh through my tears, pulling back to look at him. “I love you, so much it terrifies me sometimes.”
“Well, good thing even brave girls get scared sometimes,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady as he presses his forehead to mine. “The difference is, they try anyway. And you, darlin’? You’re the bravest woman I know.” The words settle into my chest like a balm—my Mom’s wisdom, reborn in his voice, wrapped in his warmth, laced with his quiet kind of magic.
***
The Taylor family dinner table hasn't changed—still overflowing with food, conversation, and inappropriate commentary. What's changed is me, sitting here not as a reluctant guest but as someone who belongs.
“So then Grant faceplants trying to find the right gate at Heathrow,” Lily recounts to the table's delight, “calling me in a panic because, and I quote, 'all the signs are in some weird British language.'”
“English, Grant,” Ryan deadpans. “The language was English.”
“Someone called the restroom a 'water closet'!” Grant defends himself. “How was I supposed to know what that meant?”
“Context clues,” Connor suggests, earning himself a dinner roll to the head.
I laugh, feeling the last piece of tension I've been carrying release. This chaos, this family—I've missed them with an intensity that surprised me.
