8. Flint
eight
Flint
Three weeks later, the foundation work is complete, the plumbing replaced, the ceiling restored. Maple's cottage looks better than it has in decades, solid and welcoming and built to last.
I should be moving on to other jobs, other clients. Instead, I'm installing new front steps because the old ones were uneven, planning a stone patio because Ally mentioned wanting a place for tea parties, finding any excuse to keep coming back.
"You know you don't have to keep fixing things," Maple says, bringing me coffee as I level the last step.
"I want to make sure everything's perfect."
"It already is."
She's not talking about the house, and we both know it. Over the past month, we've settled into a rhythm that feels natural, inevitable. I stay for dinner most nights, help Ally with homework, fall asleep in Maple's bed more often than I go home to my empty cabin.
We haven't talked about making it official, but the assumption is there in the way Ally asks me to attend her school play, in the way Maple includes me in weekend plans, in the way I've started thinking of this place as home.
"Derek called this morning," she says, settling on the completed step beside me.
I keep my expression neutral, but tension coils in my shoulders.
Derek's threats have escalated over the past weeks—phone calls questioning Maple's fitness as a mother, thinly veiled warnings about the "unsavory characters" she's associating with.
Nothing actionable, but enough to keep us both on edge.
"His monthly check-in?"
"He wants to take Ally for two weeks this summer. To Whistler. Says it's time she experienced 'real culture and opportunity.'"
"What did you tell him?"
"That I'd think about it. But Flint..." She looks at me with worry clear in her eyes. "He's building a case. The extended visit, the questions about the house, about you. I think he's planning something."
"Like what?"
"Custody modification. He's been documenting everything—my move to Silver Ridge, the house repairs, our relationship. Making it look like I'm unstable, making poor decisions for Ally."
The fear in her voice makes me want to drive to Vancouver and have a very direct conversation with Derek Morrison. But that would only prove his point about me being an "unsavory character."
"What do you need from me?" I ask instead.
"Just be yourself. Be the man who shows up when things fall apart, who fixes what's broken, who makes us both feel safe. Because that's who you are, Flint. That's who we fell in love with."
The words still hit me like a physical blow every time she says them. Love. We've been saying it regularly now, but it never loses its impact.
"Whatever Derek tries, we'll handle it together," I tell her, pulling her against my side. "You, me, and Ally. We're a family now."
"Are we?" she asks quietly. "Because Derek's lawyer is going to argue that we're just playing house, that this isn't a stable environment for Ally."
"Then maybe it's time to make it official."
The words are out before I can stop them, hanging in the air between us. Maple goes very still against my side.
"Official how?" she whispers.
I should probably do this properly—ring, romantic setting, carefully planned words. But sitting on the front steps I built, in front of the house I helped save, with the woman I love pressed against my side, this feels like exactly the right moment.
"Marry me," I say simply. "Not because of Derek or lawyers or proving anything to anyone else. Marry me because I love you and Ally more than I ever thought possible. Because this house isn't home without you in it. Because I want to spend the rest of my life building something beautiful with you."
She's quiet for so long that I start to panic. Maybe it's too soon, too much pressure, too—
"Yes," she breathes, turning in my arms to face me fully. "Yes, of course yes."
"Yeah?"
"I love you, Flint Miller. I want to build a life with you, a family with you. I want Ally to have a father who chooses to be here, who shows up every day and loves us both completely."
I kiss her then, deep and thorough, pouring all my love and relief and joy into the connection between us. When we break apart, both breathing hard, she's smiling through happy tears.
"We should probably tell Ally," she says.
"Tell me what?" Ally's voice comes from the front door, where she's appeared with a juice box and obvious curiosity.
"Come here, sweetheart," Maple calls, patting the step beside her.
Ally settles between us, looking back and forth with the shrewd intelligence of a seven-year-old who knows something important is happening.
"Mr. Flint and I have something to tell you," Maple begins.
"Are you getting married?" Ally asks matter-of-factly.
"How did you—" I start.
"You love each other, and you live here now, and Mommy's been looking at wedding dresses on her computer when she thinks I'm not watching."
Maple flushes red. "Ally!"
"What? I think it's good. Mr. Flint makes you happy, and he teaches me cool stuff, and he fixed our house so it won't fall down."
"So you're okay with us getting married?" I ask.
Ally considers this seriously. "Will you still be Mr. Flint, or will you be my dad?"
The question hits me right in the chest. I look at Maple, who nods encouragingly.
"I'd like to be your dad, if that's what you want," I tell Ally honestly. "But only if you're comfortable with it."
"My real dad doesn't really act like a dad anyway," she says with the brutal honesty of childhood. "You already do all the dad stuff. You help with homework and fix things and make Mommy laugh. So yeah, I want you to be my dad."
I have to clear my throat before I can speak. "Then I'd be honored."
"Cool. Can we have cake at the wedding?"
"Definitely cake," Maple confirms, laughing through her tears.
"And can I wear a pretty dress?"
"The prettiest dress we can find."
"Awesome." Ally hops up, apparently considering the matter settled. "I'm going to call Uncle Jake and tell him!"
She races inside, leaving Maple and me alone on the steps. In the distance, I can hear her excited chatter as she tells Jake our news.
"Think he'll approve?" I ask.
"Are you kidding? He's been waiting for this since the day you showed up. He'll probably take credit for the whole thing."
"Maybe he should. If he hadn't convinced you to move here..."
"We would have found each other somehow," Maple says firmly. "Some things are just meant to be."
She's right. Sitting here with her, watching the sun set over the mountains that give our town its name, I know this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. Not just in Silver Ridge, but with this woman, in this life we're building together.
Derek can bring his lawyers and his threats and his money. But what we have is stronger than legal maneuvering. It's built on love and choice and the daily commitment to show up for each other.
It's built to last forever.