Page 22 of Kissing the Boss
We stand there together, watching leaves spiral down from branches, their journey slow and graceful in the morning light. I think about the woman I was three years ago and marvel at the distance traveled.
"What are you thinking?" Jonathan asks, his chin resting on top of my head.
I smile, watching a red leaf catch the sunlight as it falls. "That some breakdowns are really beginnings."
His arm tightens around me, and I know he understands. This is what we built together—not just a home or a family, but a belonging so complete it feels like we've always been here, always been us.
I turn in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss him properly, slow and sweet and full of promises kept. His hands frame my face with a gentleness that still surprises me, still makes my heart flutter after all this time.
"I love you," I whisper against his lips. "Every day, more than the day before."
His smile is my answer, my certainty, my home.
Some stories end. Ours simply continues, in whispered good nights and early mornings, in the garage and this kitchen, in our daughter's laughter and the quiet moments between.
In the life we build, breath by breath and day by day, together.
