FIA
The car turned onto a winding drive through tall pines. Moonhaven appeared, a low, elegant building of dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows glowing in the afternoon light. Small cabins dotted the hills, nestled as if they belonged to the land.
Cian's hand found mine across the center console. "This is it."
I squeezed his fingers, feeling the bond hum between us—content and anticipatory. The drive had been quiet in the best way. It was just the two of us, the road, and the certainty that everything else was left behind for a while.
He parked near the main entrance. A woman in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt waited by the door. She smiled as we approached, the kind of professional warmth that came from years of practice.
