Jack looks over at me with a timid smile. “Ready?”
“Ready, Freddy.”
I last about five minutes just sitting and listening to the weird emo music in the car before I have to pull my phone out and do something. I use the time to answer some emails and DMs, as well as comment on and like some local florists’ Instagram photos. I wonder if there will come a day when I think of myself as a florist. Right now I’m a bartender who does some floral arranging on the side. And yeah, things have been picking up for Bridge and Blooms, but I still have a long way to go.
Once we get on the freeway, I have to put my phone away or risk getting carsick. I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, keeping my breathing steady so my stomach stays calm.
“Sadie...”
A warm hand squeezes my thigh and I jump.
It takes me a minute to figure out where I am—still in the front seat of Jack’s car. Though the car is no longer moving and no longer in the state of New York.
I push my sunglasses on top of my head and rub my eyes. “Shit. What happened?”
Jack smiles, unlatching his seat belt. “You fell asleep. We’re here.”
I subtly check my chin for any signs of drool, but luckily my skin seems to be dry. “You let me sleep the whole way?”
He pushes open his door. “You conked out pretty hard. I figured I’d let you rest.”
Undoing my own seat belt and opening my door, I practically fall out of the car, my muscles are so stiff. It’s afternoon, the sun still a couple of hours away from setting. The golden light reflects off the water in front of us, and my mouth drops open. The house is right on the cove, a wide expanse of blue rippling out before us.
“Holy shit.” I turn around to take in the house itself. “Holy shit.”
One thing’s for certain: the Thomas family sure does have a knack for real estate. The house—mansion?—is massive, all gray weathered wood and white trim and exactly what I’d fantasize about if I ever wanted to live that suburban life in Connecticut.
Based on his trips since I moved in, Jack only makes it out here about every two months, but the front yard is immaculately groomed. Perfectly manicured rosebushes line the slate walkway and explosions of perennials fill the flower beds surrounding the house itself. The lawn is lush and green, and my inner Californian practically dies thinking about how much water it must take to keep it all in this pristine condition.
Jack stands a little behind me, holding all our bags. “What do you think?”
I take my bag from him, brushing off his protest. “I think it’s fucking gorgeous.”
He nudges me forward, and we head up the path to the turquoise front door.
I sigh longingly. “I love a bright front door.”
“So you’ve mentioned.” Jack sets down his bag so he can unlock the door and push it open.
“Is this going to be a repeat orgasmic experience?” The words come out a little breathier than I intended, but I chalk it up to the combination of just waking up and a magazine-worthy front yard.
Jack stares at me, his pupils widening, and he swallows thickly. “I’m sorry?”
“Like the first time you showed me the brownstone?” I give him a wicked little grin. “Am I in for another dash of real estate porn?”
“Oh.” He clears his throat, grabs his bag, and leaves me behind on the doorstep.
Chuckling to myself, I follow him in, preparing to have my mind blown once again.
And so much of the house is mind-blowing. I mean, given its size and location, it’d be hard for it not to be. But it also looks like it hasn’t been updated in at least twenty years. Which, given how long it’s been since Jack’s parents passed, makes sense.
But even though the furniture and fixtures are out of date, everything is clean and in impeccable condition.
Dropping my bag at the foot of the stairs, I head for the back of the house. It shouldn’t even be possible, but the backyard also looks out directly on the water. I look at Jack with a question in my eyes.
He shrugs. “There are a few houses with cove views at the front and the back.”
I do a little mental math as to what two waterfront views must cost, but then I stop because I don’t want to pass out.
