“Okay. So, the blindfold was for …” She trails off, glancing between the house and me and back to the house.
A brick drive and walkway, shaded by ancient oaks, lead to a grand nineteenth-century home, fully restored to the beauty of its original craftsmanship, with a wraparound porch, old cypress doors, and a picturesque living and entertaining space inside and out. On about fifty acres.
“You didn’t …” She blinks several times, and her mouth pops open, stumped—which is one of my all-time favorite looks on my girl. “When did you?”
I grab her hand and tow her along, motioning for Jax to round up the puppy and Remy. “I might have bought this as an investment property right around the time I got the viper tattooed on my arm. But I don’t want that to …” I stop, one foot on the stairs, my gaze capering all over her gorgeous face, trailing the smattering of freckles that still bring me back to that young girl on the playground. “There are no expectations for this day, this house … well, that’s not true. There are some, but this house is whatever you want it to be.”
A lot has changed since she shared her ideal highlight reel or even since I bought this place. For starters, I’m no longer harboring delusions. I’m seizing the gifts of my reality. That’s Mercy and Remy, but the rest may or may not be here in the country.
She nods, her forest-brown gems glistening. “It’s already perfect, Ryker. I know I’m still … I’m more than okay. This is”—she soaks it all in again—“like you were in my head. I mean, I know I told you, but if I could’ve designed my dream home back then, this would have been it.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, but it’s not really about the house.”
Jax’s booming excitement blares past us. “Bernard is a good name and not too confusing.”
It sounds like Remy decided to call the dog Bernard, which I’m guessing will make the old man’s day.
Mercy’s brows furrow as she watches Jax carry the puppy and Remy—one under each arm and both yapping—around back. “It’s not about the house?”
“Nope.” I smirk because her vexation with my elusiveness is growing.
She huffs but masks it with her dazzling smile. “Are you going to tell me what it is about?”
“Contracts.” I open the door before she can ask anything more about that.
As we stroll inside, I could detail the spacious rooms and natural light, the crown molding and expansive windows, the kitchen that is a culinary haven with its top-of-the-line appliances, the furnishings that were chosen based on Mercy’s taste, or the library housing all her favorite books, from romance to thrillers to biographies. It’s all here. But again, it’s not really about the house.
Mercy catches on to that the second she sees the cocktail napkins with notes scribbled on them, strung up and lining the foyer. “Those are from the Blind Tiger.” She whips her head to me, but can’t stop wandering toward the atypical decor. “There are so many.”
“One thousand twenty-one.”
Her breath hitches as she unclasps one, holding it up to me. “You wrote one—”
“Every day we were apart,” I say, reading it over her shoulder.
Today, I went to the farmers market downtown. I got gumbo from that food truck you like and listened to a musician who was too talented to be singing on top of a van. It felt like you.
She snatches another one.
One of our members just sneezed so hard that he walked straight into a window. He stumbled backward and looked relieved that no one had seen him. I held my laughter, but I could hear yours in my head.
Right on cue, she bursts out laughing. The melodic cackle swirls around us as she saunters along to pick out another.
Heard someone say, “Nailed it on the head today,” instead of, hit the nail on the head. Thought of you.
That earns me an eye roll.
I fucking miss you, Merce. It hurts.
She stares at that one for several beats, and a tear rolls down her cheek.
I immediately chastise myself, gliding my hand over her back. “This wasn’t meant to upset you. I wanted you to see how much—”
“I was with you. I’m not upset, Ryker. I’m … honored, overwhelmed, so … grateful. I love them. Even the pain. I know you don’t share that easily, so this … is a gift.” She plucks another, snickering to herself.
I got high with Jax and Rena today, so there’s that. Wish you were here and had bananas Foster.
We waltz through the hall, browsing several, until we dip into the airy great room. When she freezes, clutching her chest, I halt my stride to see which one caught her eye.
