Page 209 of New Growth

El pulled me into his lap on the hammock. “I can.”

He brushed a thumb down the side of my neck, kissed the hollow of my throat, and murmured, “Married life looks good on you, Mrs. Greene.”

I giggled, all breath and bliss. “Sawyer-Greene”

“Of course.” He smirked. “My apologies, Mrs. Sawyer-Greene.”

God, I loved hearing that.

A lot has changed in a year.

The second location in Atlanta has been open for six months now. The response blew me away—appointments were booked out, clients flew in from other states, and our curling program doubled in size. With the new income, we added our brand as sponsors to the women’s shelters and expanded our classes with the young girls.

Thanks to the consulting El suggested, sobriety gave me the clarity I needed to focus on them.

I stopped speaking to Ma and Ryan. And Hope. No big, dramatic ending—just a quiet decision to stop reopening wounds. It hurt. But peace feels better than pretending.

And every now and then, when the ache of absence crept up on me, I’d think of Daddy. I’d picture him barefoot at the wedding, smiling widely as we walked across the sand. And even though he didn’t get to walk me down the aisle, I think he’s happy for me.

“What are you thinking about, Mrs. Sawyer-Greene?”

I tilted my head, smiling slowly. “Just… everything.”

“Good everything?”

I nodded. “I’m happy.”

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing my back in lazy circles. “Me too.”