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18. Arielle

Just two weeks later

“Hold your oar out in front of you like this.” Stallone straightens his arms, shoulder width apart, and continues calling back his instructions from his place in front of the kayak. “Turn it gently like you’re pedaling a bike with your hands.” I lift my oar, mimicking his moves, ungracefully smacking the side of the kayak with my oar. “Smaller movements,” he coaches as his oar grazes over the smooth river water, and we glide forward.

Correcting my pattern, I try to steady my oar, but I’m all over the place. “This is a lot harder than it looks.” A chuckle leaks out of my mouth right as I tap the kayak again.

“You’ll get the hang of it.”

I sit back on my legs, tipping my head back to see the top of the nearby mountain. Everything is still snowcapped, and I wouldn’t have believed they would be even more beautiful from this view on the water. It’s what my father used to call January thaw. A nice random day in the coldest month of the year, where it’s actually nice enough to go outside without a coat. Stallone picked me up from work with only one thing on his mind. Well, maybe two. He didn’t forget to kiss me hello.

“So, this morning on the way to work”—Stallone’s voice takes an even tone, and I lean forward, hanging on to his every word— “Ryson asked me what happened to me.”

“What do you mean what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He continues to propel the kayak smoothly along the water with ease and precision. “That’s what he was hinting at. He said I changed, and I told him about you.”

“You did . . .” And just like that my heart crawls up in my throat with all the nerves. Stallone and I have been spending all our time together—just the two of us. One thing we haven’t done is complicate things by including extra people. Sure, Christian knows about us, but it’s not like I tell him personal things. I could. I trust Christian more than anyone, but it’s more about protecting my heart. I’m still so confused as to what we are. “What did you say?”

“I said that I met someone, and we’ve been spending a lot of time together. He asked me if you were my girlfriend.”

“What did you say?” I struggle not to squeak because I’m actually quite curious too. It’s not a term we’ve used yet.

“I said, ‘She lets me kiss her like she’s my girlfriend.’”

My lips spread wide across my face, and I shake my head. “That’s really all you care about, isn’t it?” Our laughter synchronizes for a beat before it falls away, and we are left with only the soft whooshing of the oars in the water. “I ah, had an interesting conversation today too.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head back ninety degrees trying to sneak a side-eye on me.

“Yeah, Graham asked if I wanted to rent the apartment above the bookstore.”

“He did?” He hangs on to the word did, dragging it out to last at least three syllables. “What did you say?”

“Well, I asked for a tour, and he let me take a look. It’s small and very outdated, but he only wants six hundred for it. He said I can go month to month.” I swallow, feeling the hugeness of this announcement deep in the pit of my stomach. “I told him I’d take it.”

“Are you for real?” He twists in the kayak as best he can, meeting his gaze directly with mine. “You’re moving here?”

“If you want me to…” I love looking into his eyes. They don’t make brown eyes like that anymore. Full and honest, bearing so many emotions in the reflections that never disappoint.

“W-well, y-yeah.” He seems to stutter a bit before his words come out. “I want that more than anything. You know what that means.”

I tap my finger to his chin, holding it there in pause. “Ah, it means you are invited to help me move all my stuff.”

I linger on how it’s crazy his smile is both serious and teasing at the same time. “Absolutely I can help you move, but if you move here, I can’t continue kissing you like you’re my girlfriend. That’s seriously messed up.”

“What?” My eyebrows bead together as I know he’s setting me up for a punchline. I already know what it is, and it makes my heart beat fast.

“It means you are obviously my girlfriend.”

“I agree.” I smile sweetly and lower my lashes. I've been waiting to make this official. It’s exactly what I’ve wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter way to be asked. I can’t help but feel my life is unfolding exactly the way I dreamed it would.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading Truly, Madly, Steeply Brew.

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