Oh, no.Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
Our talk of moving out of the city to start a family had also come to a screeching halt months ago.
My heart began to thump as he pulled up to the curb and parked in the same spot we had with Jeanine.
“Bill—”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.”
Working on what? Bill wasn’t facing the two-story house we’d visited last time. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Gray stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw it had months ago. The same endearing and imposing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it. A house that said,you can’t ignore me, no matter how hard you try.
“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told Jeanine they’d be willing to sell it for a steal because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
I looked from Bill to the house. He’d remembered my comments that day. The house Jeanine had shown us had seemed so boring compared to this one.
To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Listen, it would be alotof effort, and we’d probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll do it.” It was hard to ignore the sadness that laced his voice. I’d been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.
I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”
The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall separating the backyard.
The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and despite the cold, harsh innards, I could tell the house must’ve been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects scattered the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rosebushes, a trickling fountain . . .
When I reentered the house, Bill stood with his hands into his pockets. He inspected the stairway railing and kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.
And, yet . . . something felt off, though I wasn’t sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in. Still, I struggled to complete the picture. The house didn’t fit Bill’s taste for the traditional at all.
“What do you think?” Bill asked.
Seconds passed. I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things would be different. They had to be. Bill had been right all along. It wasn’t going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel like home.
I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. “Upstairs?”
I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was surprisingly spacious—bigger than any others we’d seen, which would appeal to Bill. It had a large, unobstructed view of the backyard thanks to a corner window.
He reported that there were two more rooms down the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. “Can we afford it, really?”
“Not sure,” he said honestly. “The house, yes. But the remodel? It’s outside our budget, I’m sure, even if I bonus. It would mean cutting back on some things for a while.”
“Is this what you want?”
He squinted his eyes while running his tongue over his front teeth. “I don’t know how I feel about taking on a project of this magnitude while we’re both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to love your new home.”
It was probably the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom grew darker as clouds passed over the sun, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. “Okay,” I said. “Yes. Let’s do it.” I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to descend.
* * *
In a noisy restaurant downtown, Lucy squealed with delight as she accepted an overstuffed party bag from Gretchen’s roommate Bethany, who had a playful gleam in her eye.
We were ten girls at one long table, egging Lucy on as she unwrapped gifts between sips of her pink Cosmo.
“Oh,God.” Lucy groaned as she pulled out a pink, feathered tiara with the wordBachelorettebranded across the front.
“You’re wearing that now, and you’re wearing this, too,” said Lucy’s sister, Dani, placing a necklace with mini phallic-shaped candies around Lucy’s neck.
