The email from Chicago sat unopened in Drew's inbox for three days.

He wasn't avoiding it, exactly. Just... waiting for the right moment. Which apparently wasn't during Monday's contractor meeting about the house. Or Tuesday's lamaze class. Or Wednesday's doctor's appointment where they'd learned they were having a girl.

A daughter.

The knowledge made the decision even harder.

"You have to open it eventually," Casey said from his office doorway, one hand resting on her growing bump. She'd started showing properly now, and something about seeing her in one of his old college sweatshirts, clearly stolen from the box he'd left at the house, made his chest tight.

"I know." He minimized his email. "How was your meeting?"

"Don't change the subject." She settled into his guest chair—the comfortable one he'd bought specifically because she'd complained about the original. "The job offer expires Friday."

"There'll be other jobs."

"Not like this one." She leaned forward, wincing slightly as their daughter shifted. "Drew, it's your dream project. A whole sustainable community from the ground up? Complete creative control? It's everything you've ever wanted."

"Not everything."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Casey's hand moved in slow circles over her belly—a new habit she'd developed whenever conversations got intense.

"We need to talk about this," she said finally. "Really talk about it."

"Okay." He closed his laptop. "Talk."

"The job's in Chicago."

"Yes."

"I'm in Pine Grove."

"Yes."

"And in six months, our daughter will be in Pine Grove."

Drew's eyes tracked to her belly, to the spot where just yesterday they'd watched their daughter stretch and flip on the ultrasound screen. Already active. Already strong. Already real in a way that made his throat tight.

"I could commute," he said. "Fly back on weekends. Or you could—"

"Move to Chicago?"

"Maybe." But even as he said it, he knew it was impossible. Casey's whole life was here—her VP position, her family, the house they were finally fixing right this time.

"My job's here," she said quietly. "My doctor's here. Our families are here. The house—"

"I know."

"And long distance co-parenting?" She shook her head. "We've both seen how well that worked for Melissa and Rob."

Their friends' messy divorce and even messier custody arrangement was legendary in Pine Grove. Every other weekend visits, holidays split down to the minute, their kid living out of suitcases and growing up in FaceTime calls.

"We'd do it better," Drew argued, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Would we? When we're still figuring out how to be... whatever we are?"

The question echoed their conversation at the festival last week. That almost-kiss. The careful dance they'd been doing ever since.

"And what are we?" he asked quietly.

Casey's hand stilled on her belly. "I don't know. More than co-parents. Less than... what we were. Something new."

"Something worth staying for?"

"That's not fair." But her voice was gentle. "I can't be the reason you give up your dream job."

"You're not. She is." Drew moved around the desk, kneeling in front of Casey's chair to place his hand beside hers. Their daughter kicked, strong and insistent, as if joining the conversation. "Or maybe I am. Maybe I'm choosing a different dream."

"Drew..."

"Remember when I quit med school? How scared I was to change everything we'd planned?"

"You were miserable. The change was worth it."

"Exactly." He caught her gaze. "What if this is like that? What if sometimes the dream changes, and that's okay?"

Casey was quiet for a long moment, her fingers lacing with his over their daughter's kicks. "But this is bigger than med school. This is your whole career trajectory."

"And maybe that's okay too." The certainty in his voice surprised them both. "Maybe I'm learning that trajectory isn't always a straight line. That sometimes you have to loop back around to move forward."

"Like us?"

The question was barely a whisper, but it filled the room. Drew thought about the past few months—about soup in Marie's kitchen, about hospital rooms and lamaze classes, about decision after decision made together instead of apart.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Like us."

Casey's free hand came up to cup his cheek, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she pressed their foreheads together, sharing breath in the quiet office.

"Open the email," she said.

"Case—"

"Open it. Read it. Sleep on it. Make sure you're choosing for the right reasons." Her thumb brushed his jaw. "Not just because of me. Or even because of her. But because it's what you really want."

So Drew opened his laptop and clicked the email. The Chicago firm's offer was even better than the original—more money, more creative control, more everything he'd thought he wanted.

But as he read, his daughter kicked against his palm, and Casey's fingers stayed twined with his, and he realized something important.

Dreams change.

Sometimes they get bigger, like choosing architecture over medicine. Sometimes they get harder, like rebuilding a marriage instead of running from its ruins. Sometimes they get clearer, like realizing that success isn't always measured in project budgets and creative control.

Sometimes they just get more real.

"I'll give them my answer tomorrow," he said, closing the laptop.

Casey squeezed his hand. "And?"

"And I think..." He smiled, feeling their daughter move beneath their joined hands. "I think Pine Grove needs an architect who specializes in sustainable community development. Someone who could help revitalize the downtown area. Maybe design some affordable housing near the old mill district."

"Really?"

"Really." He stood, pulling Casey up with him. "Besides, we've got a house to finish. A nursery to build. A whole life to figure out."

"Together?"

The question held echoes of all their past attempts—the med school decision, the marble versus quartz debate, every time they'd chosen each other over easier paths.

"Together," he confirmed. "Whatever that means now."

Casey's smile was soft, sure. "It means we keep walking?"

"Yeah." He tucked her hair behind her ear, remembering their conversation at the festival. "We keep walking."

Their daughter kicked again, and they both laughed. Three hearts beating in the quiet office, three lives intertwined in ways that transcended job offers and distance and all the careful lines they'd tried to draw between past and present.

"I should get back to work," Casey said eventually. "I have a client meeting at two."

"Dinner later? We can look at those nursery paint samples again?"

"The ones you hate?"

"I don't hate them. I just think seafoam green is a bold choice for—"

"For your daughter's room? The daughter who clearly has excellent taste, given how much she kicks when I show her the seafoam samples?"

Drew laughed, helping Casey gather her things. "Dinner. Paint samples. Maybe we can talk about some compromises?"

"Like that greige color you keep pushing?"

"Like maybe a seafoam accent wall?"

Casey's smile lit up her whole face. "See? We're getting better at this."

She left with a squeeze of his hand and a promise to bring takeout later. Drew watched her go, then turned back to his laptop.

The Chicago email was still open, still tempting with its promises of bigger projects and brighter futures. But somehow, those promises felt hollow compared to the reality of paint samples and compromise and building something real, right here in Pine Grove.

He clicked "Reply" and started typing.

Thank you for the generous offer, but I've decided to pursue opportunities closer to home...

Home.

Maybe that's what all of this was about. Not just the house they were renovating or the nursery they were planning, but the life they were building. Slowly. Carefully. Together.

One decision at a time.