J & C

Ah, dearest reader, Prepare your heart for a most modern tale of love—one not scribed with quills and ink, but rather typed beneath the glow of late-night screens. Though our setting is not the gilded clubs of Ybor or Hyde Park but rather beaches, dog parks, and dating apps, the affairs of the heart remain delightfully unchanged. Let us commence: In an age where courtship is oft conducted with swipes rather than suitors, Miss Jessica Valenti, a spirited and compassionate speech-language pathology assistant—found herself scrolling through Hinge one unremarkable evening. It was then that a certain profile caught her eye. Mr. Christopher Council, employed at a rather reputable firm called VEAM (a mystery of acronyms to some, but quite a prestigious place nonetheless), had a bio that read: “Looking for someone to watch football, be adventurous, and have a whole lot of sarcasm.” She liked. He messaged. And thus began a digital dalliance that would blossom into something most remarkable. Their first meeting, as scandalous as it may sound to our more traditional readers, did not occur in a parlor or even over dinner at a restaurant. Nay—it was at his apartment. Cozy. Modern. A shared buffalo chicken pizza and beer. A scary movie on the T.V, but from her nervous laughter and his loud dog Mia. Conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked of patients and productivity, of therapy sessions and tech projects, of shared dreams and differing opinions. Somehow, amidst takeout pizza and nervous glances, something... real took root. Days turned into months. Monday mornings became tolerable with a "good morning" text before their respective commutes. Weekends meant adventures with Mia, the most charming Australian cattle dog you could ever imagine. (A dog with more emotional intelligence than some suitors of the ton, I daresay.) They grew together—in love, in life, in fantasy football championships. He supported her career and going back to school with quiet pride; she encouraged his work and promotions with passionate belief. He'd listen to her stories of small triumphs in therapy rooms and good grades; she'd marvel at his curiosity to life and the way he could fix anything—except perhaps her inability to remember where she put her keys or phone. Then, came the house. Not a grand estate, but something far more meaningful: a place with LVP floors, too many throw pillows, and a walking path just perfect for Mia. A home. Their home. It was a Thursday morning in St. Augustine—Florida’s own jewel of charm and cobblestone. The wind whispered secrets to the streets, and the air carried the scent of salt and love. Amidst historic walls and the echoes of old Spanish hymns, he knelt—not with pomp, but with purpose, in front of the Lightner museum, with all to see no less. “I knew I loved you,” he said, “the day Mia chose to curl up in your lap instead of mine. But I knew I needed you forever the day I realized my world didn’t make sense without you in it.” Jessica, eyes shining like the morning tide, whispered the only answer that ever mattered: “Yes.” And so, dear reader, let it be known: Though the era changes, and romance may arrive via app rather than a hand-delivered letter, love—true, abiding, heart-skipping love—remains the greatest tale of all. And for Jessica and Christopher, this was merely Chapter One.