Updated Dec 4, 2025 • ~8 min read
One year.
Savannah stared at the calendar on her phone, counting days.
One year since the wedding where everything changed. One year since Barry told her he loved her and she’d been brave enough to say it back.
365 days of being together.
3,652 days of knowing each other.
“What are you staring at?” Barry asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway. Saturday morning, both in pajamas, coffee brewing.
“The date. It’s been a year.”
His expression softened. “One year since we finally got our heads out of our asses.”
“Eloquent.”
“But accurate.” He crossed the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “One year of being yours. Best year of my life.”
“Mine too.”
“Should we do something to celebrate? Fancy dinner? Weekend getaway?”
“Actually—” Savannah turned in his arms. “I was thinking we could go back. To the vineyard. Where it all started.”
Barry’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“If we can get a room. I know it’s last minute.”
“Let me call them.”
Twenty minutes later, they had a reservation. Same vineyard, same room—217—for the following weekend.
“Skylar and Roman are going to love this,” Barry said, already texting the group chat. “We’re doing our one-year anniversary at their wedding venue.”
The next week crawled by. Savannah counted down days like a kid before Christmas.
Finally, Friday arrived. They loaded up Barry’s car and made the familiar drive to the vineyard.
“It looks exactly the same,” Savannah said as they pulled up. The estate was still stunning—rolling hills, autumn colors, everything golden and perfect.
“One year ago, we drove up here as friends,” Barry observed.
“Technically we were friends pretending not to be in love.”
“Fair distinction.”
They checked in and headed to room 217. The same room where they’d shared a bed and pretended everything was normal. Where Savannah had woken up in Barry’s arms and panicked about her feelings.
“This feels full circle,” she said, dropping her bag inside.
“Want to walk the vineyard? Like we did that first day?”
“Absolutely.”
They wandered the same paths they’d walked a year ago. The grapevines were heavy with fruit now, harvest approaching. The weather was perfect—warm afternoon sun, cool breeze, everything peaceful.
“I was so nervous that weekend,” Savannah admitted. “Sharing a room with you. Pretending I was fine when I was actually dying inside.”
“You were nervous? I was terrified. Three days sharing a bed with the woman I’d been in love with for a decade. It was torture.”
“Sweet torture though.”
“The sweetest.”
They found the same bench where they’d sat that first day. Where Barry had almost told her his feelings before getting interrupted.
“What would have happened if you’d finished that conversation?” Savannah wondered. “If Thea hadn’t interrupted?”
“Honestly? I probably would have chickened out. Made some joke and changed the subject.”
“And we would have wasted more time being scared.”
“Maybe. Or maybe everything happened exactly when it was supposed to.” Barry took her hand. “I wouldn’t change anything, Sav. Even the ten years of almost. Because it gave us this foundation. This friendship that makes the relationship work.”
“You’re right. We needed that time.”
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink toward the horizon.
“Can I tell you something?” Barry said eventually.
“Always.”
“A year ago, when we came here, I had this plan. I was going to tell you how I felt, no matter what. Zane gave me this whole pep talk about making a moment instead of waiting for one.”
“And then Xavier showed up and complicated everything.”
“Actually, Xavier showing up was the push I needed. Watching him talk to you, thinking you might give him another chance—I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch you go back to him when I’d been in love with you forever.”
Savannah squeezed his hand. “Best decision you ever made.”
“Yeah?”
“Telling me changed my life. In the best way possible.”
“Mine too.”
They headed back as the sun set, the vineyard bathed in golden light.
“Should we get dinner?” Barry asked.
“Actually, I made reservations. At that rooftop restaurant where we had our first date.”
His eyes widened. “You planned this?”
“I wanted tonight to be special. One year anniversary deserves celebrating properly.”
Dinner was perfect. They dressed up—Savannah in a deep blue dress, Barry in slacks and a button-down. The same table as their first date, overlooking the city.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Barry said over wine.
“Feels longer. In a good way. Like we’ve always been like this.”
“We kind of have. We just made it official.”
They reminisced about the past year. Their first fight, moving in together, holidays with family. Every milestone and ordinary moment that had built their relationship.
“What’s been your favorite part?” Savannah asked.
“Of this year?”
“Yeah.”
Barry considered. “Waking up next to you every morning. Coming home to you every night. The boring, domestic stuff that makes life good. You?”
“Same. I love our life together. The routine of it. Making coffee and cooking dinner and just existing in the same space.”
“We’re disgustingly domestic.”
“And I love it.”
After dinner, they returned to the vineyard. To room 217.
“One year ago,” Barry said, closing the door behind them. “We slept in this bed as friends.”
“Technically we slept as friends who were desperately in love but too scared to admit it.”
“Better distinction.” He pulled her close. “I’m not scared anymore.”
“Me neither.”
They made love slowly, taking their time. No urgency, no nerves. Just them, together, celebrating one year of finally getting it right.
Afterward, tangled in sheets, Savannah traced patterns on Barry’s chest.
“I’m really happy,” she said quietly.
“Good.”
“No, I mean—really happy. The happiest I’ve ever been. And that scares me sometimes.”
“Why does it scare you?”
“Because I keep waiting for something to go wrong. For the other shoe to drop. Nothing this good lasts forever.”
Barry tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. “Sav, we’re going to have bad days. And fights. And challenges. That’s life. But we’re going to get through them together. Like we always have.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. You’re stuck with me. For life.”
“For life?”
“For life. Whether you like it or not.”
She kissed him softly. “I like it. I really, really like it.”
Sunday morning, they slept in late. Ordered room service breakfast and ate it in bed.
“I don’t want to leave,” Savannah said, stealing a piece of Barry’s bacon.
“We could stay forever. Just live at this vineyard. Become mysterious grape-growing hermits.”
“Tempting. But we have jobs. And an apartment. And a life.”
“Fair points.”
They checked out around noon, reluctant to return to reality.
On the drive home, Savannah’s phone buzzed with texts.
Skylar: I heard you spent your anniversary at our wedding venue. That’s adorable. How’s the room?
Savannah: Perfect. Thank you for indirectly giving us this place.
Skylar: You’re welcome. When are you two getting married btw? I need to start planning my outfit.
Savannah showed Barry the text. He laughed.
“She’s not subtle.”
“Not even a little bit. Should I tell her to calm down?”
“Tell her we’re taking our time. No rush.”
But later that night, unpacking in their apartment, Savannah found herself thinking about Skylar’s question.
Marriage.
A year ago, the thought would have terrified her. Now it felt… inevitable. In a good way.
“What are you thinking about?” Barry asked, putting away clothes.
“The future. Us. Long-term stuff.”
“Good thoughts or scary thoughts?”
“Good thoughts. Mostly.” She sat on the bed. “Do you think about marriage? Like, for us?”
Barry stopped unpacking. “All the time.”
“Really?”
“Sav, I’ve been in love with you for eleven years. Of course I think about marriage. About building a permanent life together. About forever.”
“But we’ve only been dating a year.”
“We’ve known each other eleven years. We’ve lived together for almost nine months. We already function like a married couple in every way except legally.”
“So you do want to get married?”
“Eventually, yes. When you’re ready. There’s no rush.” He sat beside her. “Why? Are you thinking about it?”
“Maybe. Skylar asked when we were getting married and I realized—I want that. Someday. With you.”
Barry’s smile was blinding. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Not tomorrow. But eventually. I want to marry you, Barry Dale.”
He kissed her then. Deep and sure and full of promise.
“I want to marry you too, Savannah Mitchell. When the time is right.”
“When’s the right time?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Together,” she agreed.
That night, curled up in bed, Savannah felt a certainty settle in her chest.
This was it. Barry was her person. Her always. Her forever.
One year ago, she’d been terrified to risk their friendship.
Now she couldn’t imagine not taking that risk.
Couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
One year down.
A lifetime to go.
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