They argued about bookshelves, travel plans, and whether a dining table needed to be quite so large.
But when they disagreed, they talked.
When one of them made a mistake, they acknowledged it.
And when life became difficult, neither treated the truth as something to postpone until circumstances improved.
On the evening of the hotel’s opening, they stood together on the terrace.
Beyond the harbour, the sky began filling with fireworks.
Célestine looked up.
Alaric glanced at her.
“Does this seem familiar?”
She smiled.
“A little.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Possibly.”
She turned toward him.
The fireworks illuminated the water.
For a moment, he saw the woman he’d met years earlier, laughing beside her harbour after spilling coffee on his jacket.
But she was not quite the same woman.
And he was not quite the same man.
Célestine leaned closer.
“Alaric?”
“Yes?”
“May I kiss you?”
He smiled.
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
This time, neither was pretending.
Neither was hiding a family, a secret, or an inconvenient truth.
They kissed beneath the fireworks.
And when they drew apart, Célestine laughed softly.
“What?” Alaric asked.
She rested her forehead against his.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“How strange it is that the worst decisions of your life can sometimes lead you somewhere wonderful.”
Alaric gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“Perhaps.”
Then he smiled.
“But I think I’d rather give the good decisions some credit too.”
Célestine laughed.
He took her hand.
And together, they walked back toward the lights of the hotel, where their friends were waiting.
