Chapter 32

Two weeks after The Hacienda’s triumphant opening, Matthew found himself at Juliet’s apartment for the first time. It was a converted loft above an antique store in East Austin that perfectly reflected her blend of practicality and aesthetic sensibility. She had invited him for dinner, a simple meal that felt momentous after weeks of elaborate restaurant service and public attention.

Her place was warm and unpretentious. Eposed brick walls were lined with books on viticulture and Texas history, a kitchen island that clearly saw daily use rather than performative cooking, melded with windows that captured both morning and evening light. Wine barrels had been repurposed as furniture, and family photographs were mixed with vineyard landscapes, and the unmistakable presence of someone who had created a home rather than a décor.

“I’ve been thinking, about what comes next,” Juliet said as she finished plating their meal ... grilled chicken with fresh vegetables from the family farm. She paired the meal with a bottle of her Tempranillo that hadn’t yet been released commercially.

They had been dancing around the subject for weeks. They’d been distracted by The Hacienda’s success. It had created new possibilities and pressures. The media attention had brought opportunities neither had anticipated. Three different restaurant groups had approached Matthew and James about partnership deals. Food & Wine — a glossy bimonthly magazine — wanted to feature Juliet’s vineyard in their ‘Texas wine renaissance’ article. Both had received invitations to culinary events all across the country.

Juliet continued, her characteristic directness emerging alongside unusual vulnerability. “About building something that’s ours alone.”

Matthew set down his fork, giving her his complete attention. Throughout their relationship, these moments of deeper consideration had consistently led to meaningful developments—never rushed, always thoughtful.

“The property has twenty acres we’ve never developed,” she said, her voice gaining certainty as she articulated the idea, “beyond the current vineyard blocks, between the hacienda and the river.”

She reached across the table to take his hand, the gesture now natural between them but carrying a particular significance in this moment.

“I want to build a home, there. Our home. A place that’s ours to create rather than to restore or manage for others.”

For Matthew, whose entire adult life had been characterized by temporary positions and transitional housing, the idea of creating a permanent home with someone felt simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

“Wow. That’s ... significant,” he said, not deflecting but ensuring his response matched the weight of what she was suggesting.

“I know,” Juliet acknowledged. “I’m not asking for an immediate answer or a dramatic commitment. But I want you to know that I’m thinking about building a life together, not just working together or even loving each other.”

“I want that, too. I’ve been afraid to hope for that with you...” Matthew said quietly, “a place with someone who was truly my partner.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “We’re good together. You are perfect for me. I’ve known that from the start.”

“I feel the same,” he said simply, the understatement carrying more weight than any elaborate declaration. “More than I can say. The home, the life we can build together. I want us to have Sunday dinner with our kids jabbering away. I want it all!”

For the man who had been searching for home all his life, he had finally found the greatest magic of all.