“I wasjustsaying that to Maxy,” Luke agrees on a groan. “I didn’t think I’d miss baseball so much, but sometimes watching other people play nowadays is torture.”
“Same,” I reply. “It’s nice having you to root for though, Max. If anyone dares to try and talk hockey with me, I love working it into the conversation that I know you.”
“Oh, well,” Max says, embarrassed.
“He doesn’t do it only when people are talking about hockey,” Marcos corrects, giving me the side-eye. “It’s practically the second thing he says to anyone we meet.”
“Honestly, it’s part of my introduction,” Luke agrees, as Max shakes his head at us and blushes. “I like to make sure people know I’m engaged to an NHL star and that I’m a pretty big fucking deal.”
“Oh god,” Marcos mutters.
I guide the truck off the gravel road and onto the grass, decreasing my speed. Luke and Max lean forward simultaneously, as though they’re connected by a string.
“I can’t get over how beautiful it is here,” Max says. “Or how big it is.”
Pulling to a slow stop, I park where our imaginary driveway will end and everyone hops out. When I meet Marcos at the front of the vehicle, he smiles at me. He and I pored over housing plans for weeks—cross-legged on thefloor, papers and magazines and samples spread out around us. Standing and observing as the slab was poured was surreal, and I’ll never forget the look on Marcos’ face as he watched. I would build him a hundred houses, just to see it every time.
“They just framed it last week,” he tells Max and Luke, watching as they approach the house.
“Tour?” Luke requests, shooting a smile back at Marcos.
We take them through the build, explaining the design as best we can when there is little more than concrete and wood to help us. We’re a pretty good distance away from the main farm, which will provide a nice separation of work and home.
“And what’s that?” Luke asks, pointing through one of the “walls” toward another concrete slab.
“Barn for the horses,” Marcos answers, touching my lower back gently and curling his fingers into my waistband.
“Oh, right. Duh. Does that mean you’re running some of the business from here, or…?” Luke trails off before laughing. “I truly have no fucking idea how a ranch runs.”
“No, we’ll keep a couple horses here, but that’s it. Most will be at the main farm.”
“God, this is so cool,” Max says excitedly, smoothing a hand down the wood frame of a wall. “I can’t believe how quiet it is back here, and how secluded we feel. It’s crazy that places like this still exist.”
“When you retire, we can build our own house in the woods,” Luke tells him. “Just you, me, and our seven kids.”
“Seven,” I repeat on a laugh, raising my eyebrows at Marcos. “I guess we might need to add a few guest bedrooms.”
“We can put a few kids in a tent in the backyard,” Luke jokes.
“Maybe the barn,” Max adds.
“You guys are going to be incredible dads,” Marcos says, delivering the comment so dryly it makes Luke snort with laughter.
We mosey around the build and surrounding property, until the sun begins to set in an incredible splash of orange across the sky. The ride back to my uncle’s is quiet, Marcos silently looking out the passenger window at the darkening landscape; Max and Luke sitting pressed together in the back. When we get to Jesper’s, I idle in front of the house and turn around just in time to see Max stifle a yawn with his hand.
“Call us if you need anything tonight,” I tell them.
“What time are chores in the morning?” Luke asks, hand cupping the back of Max’s neck, thumb stroking a circle behind his ear.
“You can sleep in. You’re on vacation,” Marcos says.
“But on the off chance we’re awake, what time might things start happening?” Luke presses.
“Usually by five.”
Luke smiles at me and Marcos, before directing it to Max and giving him a little tug toward the door. “Let’s go to sleep, Maxy.”
I wait until they’re inside, before putting the truck in drive and slowly continuing on our way to the loft. The space is barely big enough for me and Marcos, let alone four people, so they’re staying in one of the guest rooms in the main house. I glance up at the rearview before the house is out of sight, making sure they didn’t come back onto the porch to wave us down.
