21. Tyler #2
"Like the plane, and the villa, and the tiny little issue of international travel with minors," I add dryly.
"Minor details," Julian dismisses with a wave of his hand, making Ginger laugh despite her evident emotion.
"I don't know what to say," she admits, squeezing my hand. "This is incredible."
"Say you'll come to the beach with us," I suggest. "That's all we're asking."
"YES!" Karl shouts before Ginger can respond. "Yes, yes, yes we'll come to the beach! Can we go RIGHT NOW?"
"As soon as we board," I confirm, nodding to the pilot who had been waiting discreetly by the stairs. "Our chariot awaits."
The next few minutes are a whirlwind of activity—boarding the small luxury jet, settling into seats that Karl declared ‘fancier than a spaceship,’ accepting pre-flight drinks (juice for the boys, champagne for the adults), and taxiing toward the runway.
"I can't believe you planned all this," Ginger whispers, her fingers tracing the buttery leather of her seat. Behind us, Karl presses every button on the armrest while Julian demonstrates how the seat reclines to a full bed. "It's too much, Tyler."
"It's a weekend at the beach," I correct, reaching across to squeeze her hand. "Something every kid should experience at least once." I tilt my head, meeting her eyes. "And every adult."
She glances around the cabin, at the crystal glasses being filled with champagne, at the monogrammed pillows on each seat. "But a private jet? A villa?" Her voice drops even lower, a flush creeping up her neck. "This is... extravagant."
"It's efficient," I counter pragmatically.
"Commercial flights to Nassau are infrequent and would waste half our weekend.
The villa is a friend's property that sits empty most of the year.
And," I add, my voice softening, "I wanted to do something special for all of you.
For us. Our first real family vacation."
The word "family" hangs between us, weighted with meaning. We hadn't explicitly defined our relationship in those terms yet, though the trajectory seems increasingly clear to both of us.
"Family vacation," Ginger repeat, testing the phrase. "I like the sound of that."
"Me too," I admit, relief washing over me. This weekend is about more than a beach trip—it is about testing the waters (literally and figuratively) of what our future might look like together.
As the plane accelerates down the runway and lifts into the clear spring sky, I watch Ginger's face—the wonder as the New York skyline receded beneath us, the soft smile as she observes Karl's excitement, the moment her eyes meet mine with a look of such genuine happiness that it makes my chest ache with emotion.
I'd been planning to wait until our last night in the Bahamas, to set the scene with tropical sunset and ocean backdrop, but watching Ginger now—her hand absently stroking Karl's hair as he presses his face to the window, her eyes bright with adventure and trust—I can't wait another moment.
"Hey," I say, drawing her attention back to me. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"Hmm?" she turns, still smiling from something Karl had said.
"I love you," I say simply. "I think I have since that day you fell on the ski slope and laughed until you cried. And these past three months have only confirmed what I suspected then—that you and Karl are the missing pieces of the life Julian and I have been trying to build."
Her eyes widen as she realizes where this might be heading. "Tyler..."
"I'm not proposing," I clarify quickly, aware of the boys across the aisle. "Not yet. That's a conversation for another day, when we've had more time, when we're both ready. But I am asking if you'd consider taking the next step with me."
"Which is?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Moving in together," I say, analyzing her expression for the slightest hint of reservation. "Not my place or yours—something new. A home built around all four of us, designed for the family we're becoming."
Ginger's eyes widen, and for a moment she seems at a loss for words. "You want to... but our jobs, and the boys' schools, and..."
"We'd figure it out," I assure her, taking both her hands in mine. "Maybe somewhere between Boston and New York. I can work from anywhere, really. The boys could finish this school year where they are, and then we could find a place before fall. Or if that's too soon, we could—"
"Tyler Reed," she interrupt, a slow smile spreading across her face, "are you babbling?"
I stop, realizing she was right. "I think I am. It's a nervous habit when I care about the answer."
She glances at the boys, confirming they were still absorbed in the view and their own conversation, then turn back to me.
"This is insane," she says, but she is still smiling. "We've been dating for three months."
"We've been living half our lives on trains and planes for three months," I correct. "We've been a family in everything but geography. And I'm tired of saying goodbye every Sunday night. I'm tired of Julian moping around for days after Karl leaves. I'm tired of waking up without you beside me."
My mind had already run through every practical consideration, weighing our options with the same strategic thinking I apply to business decisions.
Location analysis, school district comparisons, commuting variables—I'd examined it all.
But what ultimately mattered wasn't the logistics but the people.
"That's..." She bites her lip, moved by my words. "That's a lot to consider. The boys would need to adjust, change schools, make new friends..."
"They'd have each other," I point out. "That seems to be all they care about these days anyway."
Ginger laughs softly. "True. Karl talks about Julian more than anyone else in his life, including me."
"Same with Julian," I nod. "But listen, I'm not asking for an answer right now. Just... think about it? This weekend, while we're all together, away from the usual pressures. Watch the boys. Watch us. See if it feels right to you too."
She squeezes my hands, her eyes suspiciously bright. "I will. I promise."
"That's all I ask," I smile, leaning forward to kiss her softly.
"Ewww, KISSING!" Karl's disgusted voice breaking the moment, making us both laugh.
"Get used to it, kid," I advise, echoing the words I'd used during their first New York visit. "It’s going to be a regular occurrence."
"Gross," Julian declares loyally, though I notice his expression was more curious than truly repulsed.