Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
I explain, “That first time we talked in the donut shop, you talked about the kind of house you’d like to live in. You made it clear the house you were currently living in wasn’t what you wanted. I saw this place on your link list, in your search history many times as well as your sent emails, so obviously it was of significance to you. I looked into it and saw the previous owner took it off the market after four months. He bought it planning a family, bought a ring and proposed. The girl said no. So he was trying to sell it. I made an offer.” I shrug.
She stares ahead at the house.
“You visited the real estate listing forty-six times,” I add.
She flinches, then whispers, “You bought it. It’s yours?”
“It’s ours, Chloe. It’s my wedding gift to you.”
Frown lines mar her forehead.
“Neighbors aren’t too close. I looked into them and on one side is an elderly couple with no kids who are adopted as grandparents by their church congregation and other families on the street. The neighbors on the other side are young professionals in their late twenties. Looking at her socials just quick, she’s about four or five months pregnant. I think she could be someone you’d like. She loves taking food pictures and has similar taste in food as you. We could wind up with kids who get to grow up playing together on this… a safe street that’s just a twenty-minute drive to the business district. Good preschool in walking distance. There are amenities within a two-minute drive. It made sense. But even if it wasn’t practical, which it is, I bought it because you love it.”
When I looked at the old listing, it helped paint a picture of who Chloe is. Family spaces. Big kitchen. Playground equipment outside. Big, wraparound porch to entertain on. To watch your kids play in the yard or treehouse, on the front lawn, riding bikes on the big driveway safely behind gates where people can’t get to them. It’s not so big you need live-in staff who might be plotting with people to steal from you, take your kids for ransom.
It’s been recently updated, too. I don’t care that it’s not a house my mother would choose. It’s a house my mother would call cute and adorable while dropping hints about other real estate listings more befitting someone of our family’s status.
This is what my girl wanted, but didn’t get when Adam Hallman lost the use of his legs. It’s obvious they couldn’t have bought it; it was more than triple the cost of the rowhouse she lived in with him and the mortgage would’ve been too high on their salaries. But it’s the home she described in the donut shop that day with light in her eyes and a smile on her face.
I unclip my seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking panicked.
“Gonna open the gate so we can go inside. I have the code for the gate and the remotes are supposed to be on the kitchen counter. I’ll upgrade it soon so we can just use an app.”
“No. No.” She seems panicked. “I’m not going in there. You did not buy that for me, Derek.”
“I did. It was vacated yesterday, re-keyed already. New keys were dropped at my office. Grabbed them when I picked up that file you wanted. Here.” I reach into my blazer pocket and hand the keys to her. “I had our clothes and groceries brought over this morning while we were at my parents. Had it cleaned. We’re moving in.”
She shakes her head, staring at the keys in her hand.
“Chloe, what’s wrong?” I ask, caressing her face.
She shrinks away. “Derek, you can’t buy my acquiescence here.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I bought you the house you should have because it’s the house you want. I don’t expect you to throw yourself at me. I know you better than that.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know me.”
“Yes, I do,” I state. “I know you better than you think I know you. I also know that when you decide to stop fighting this, you’ll be happy that we’re living here in the house you wanted. That this is where we’ll raise our kids.”
Her body jerks hard like I’ve delivered a physical blow.
Her mouth is open as she looks at me like I’m absolutely batshit crazy.
“It’s old, but it’s well-made and well-maintained. Updated everything, too, so no major work to be done. The house four houses over that way…” I point, “Has three teenage girls. Babysitters, baby, for when we want date night. Let’s go in.”
She stares at it looking like she’s about to burst into tears. I watch a swallow work down her throat.
I get out, key in the gate code and open it before getting back in and driving through, stopping so I can close and lock it behind us.