“About the budget: I came in with twenty-three whole dollars to spare. But I think it would be a good gesture to pay Al a bonus for coming in under budget and on time. You never know when you’ll need him on another restaurant.” This was common practice for me in New York. I had built up a loyal arsenal of contractors and workers this way.

He whispered in my ear, “Already done.” I smiled, and we made our way to the bedroom door. I stepped inside so Henry and Griffin could enter. “Don’t worry. We’ll come back to the Christmas tree.”

“That’s a lot of pillows, Bailey,” Henry said. “But I would kill for that bathroom.”

“The pillows do complement the painting on the wall. But the painting is a little high, don’t you think?” Griffin said.

“There’s a method to my madness. Christmas isn’t here just yet.” It was easy to be playful with him. The kitchen and patio were last.

I had chosen a distressed green color for the cabinets. It was warmer than I would’ve liked, but it played nicely with the grays and browns and didn’t interrupt the flow. Both men’s eyes landed on the banquette. I had almost duplicated my father’s kitchen. It wasn’t lost on either man, who each had logged countless hours in that kitchen, sparking and cultivating their own life ambitions. For a moment, I was overcome with my own emotion. I opened the built-in refrigerator door in game-show style to reveal Griffin’s favorite water and a bottle of champagne.

“This calls for champagne, Bae.” Griffin reached in and grabbed the green bottle—Perrier-Jouët—and a bottle of sparkling cider. I wondered if he remembered that the last time we drank this champagne was in a kitchen that looked just like this. It was the first time I ever wore the green nightgown. And the last. We had closed up Daddy’s house that night. It was the last time Griffin and I had been together.

I opened the French doors to the patio. Luckily for me, Atlanta was having a mild winter, and I had placed a plate of cheese and crackers next to a white poinsettia. Griffin popped the champagne.

“Well, Griff, this is definitely a home,” Henry said as Griffin passed me a flute of champagne.

“To Griffin’s new home. Be happy,” I said.

“To Bae and her unique and perfect style.” He leaned over and touched his champagne glass to mine. The three of us stood together letting the celebratory nature mingle with the champagne before returning inside to the roaring fire in the living room.