That was the real proof.
Later, when the sky had started to go gold and the first round of leftovers was being packed away, I found him off by the grill with my father. They stood a little apart from everybody else, talking low, smoke and late light catching at the edges of them.
I watched them longer than I meant to.
My father nodded once. Micah laughed softly at something he said.
Then my father clapped his shoulder, and that alone did something to me I had no business letting it do in broad daylight.
I wondered what they were talking about. I wondered if my name was in it.
If my future was in it.
If my father, in his quiet way, was handing a man instructions he would never say aloud in front of me.
By the time the day finally started winding down and people were gathering foil pans, folding chairs, half-finished conversations, and children sticky with juice into their cars, I still hadn’t asked.
Not until we were alone for half a minute near the back steps, the deck still carrying my family in full volume behind us.
Micah stood close enough that his shoulder brushed mine and stayed there.
I looked up at him.
“What were you and my dad talking about?”
“That’s private.”
I frowned.
He laughed under his breath and touched the back of my neck, his thumb low under my ear.
“Stop worrying that mind of yours.”
“That only brought on more worry, Micah.”
He looked at me for a second, quiet and warm and full of something I no longer doubted.
Then he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“I love you,” he said. “And I’ll keep showing you.”
That settled in me deeper than any actual answer might have.
I searched his face anyway, because I was me and because I wanted more.
He just smiled.
“Also,” he added, “my mother texted me and asked when you’re coming back.”
“She did?”
“She did.” His thumb moved once at my neck. “And Ari asked if you could come color with her again.”
I smiled before I could stop it.
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d check with your very busy social calendar.”