He guides us up the staircase and points to the first bedroom on the left. It's bright and peaceful, with huge windows facing the backyard that let sunlight filter in softly.
"This was my parents' room," he says. He brings me over to the door by the window, and I inhale sharply at the bathroom. "He designed the bathroom for my mom. The clawfoot at the Salvatore reminded me of theirs. He had to get one that was big enough to fit him... and my mom," he grimaces, making me laugh.
"I seem to remember you liking our bath," I tease, poking his stomach, and he grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my finger.
"That's different. I don't want to think about my parents like that," he gags, and I laugh, the sound echoing as I walk further into the bathroom, spinning in a circle to see everything.
There's a walk-in shower, two sinks on green painted cabinets, and, facing the window, a beautiful marble vanity. I can picture Maeve sitting there, applying her homemade lotions and perfumes, William gazing at her from the doorway.
"He designed this whole place for her," Callum murmurs, gesturing to the bathroom and then the house itself. "He wanted to give her everything he could."
"Callum, it'sgorgeous," I tell him, my voice breathless, and his smile widens, brown eyes twinkling. He extends his hand toward me, and I take it without hesitation, letting him guide me into the bedroom directly across the hall. It's quite a decent-sized bedroom, with a closet to the right when you walk in and huge windows facing the street.
"This was mine," his voice is low, cracking a little around the edges, and I gently squeeze his hand before I step further into the room. It has sports-themed wallpaper, obviously, from the family who bought the house. It's peeling at the edges, but I can't see what's underneath. It makes me curious, wanting to envision just how he had it as a little boy.
"What color was it when you were a kid?"
"It was... a blueish green," he says, his cheeks darkening and his face turning a little shy. "Kind of like your eyes... I always loved that color."
"Flatterer."
"Truth-teller," he counters, as always.
I smile at him, glancing around and trying to picture the room as he had it. I can almost see it—the color of the walls, books scattered throughout the room, Callum doing homework on a desk in the corner.
The whole house is peaceful, and from Callum's face, I can see how much it means for him to be back here, and how tough it must have been for him and Maeve to let this place go.
A pang of envy strikes my chest as I glance around the space,already feeling so warm and cozy. My own thoughts, spurred by today's good news, prompt me to think more deeply about the future. A home with Callum, potential for kids, settling down in this town I've grown to call home.
Callum takes out his cellphone and types something on it before sliding it back in his pocket. I reach my hand out and touch the walls. I can practically feel the love William put into this house for his family seeping from them, from every crevice of this house.
I sigh wistfully, "Whoever lives in this house now is going to love it..."
His expression shifts, twitching in what looks like amusement, which immediately makes me suspicious. His eyes are bright and warm as he gazes at me from the doorway, trailing over me with pure affection.
"The new owners were really okay with us just walking through. What if we were squatters?"
"I don't think we have to worry about that," Callum says, reaching into his back pocket and producing two gold colored keys. "Becausewe'rethe owners."
I freeze, all the air leaving my lungs at once.
"You... what?"
"I bought the house," he repeats, his voice a mix of nervousness and hope that makes my heart clench. His voice is quiet when he says, "for us, Sophie."
"You... you bought the house... for us..." I repeat dumbly. I stare at the keys, then at him, then at the room, then back at him.
"Yeah," Callum says, his smile dropping a bit, and he shifts a little uncomfortably on his feet. "The family that bought the house from us is moving—their youngest son is going away to college, and they're going to follow him."
I can't do anything but stare at this man of mine.
"The realtor we worked with is friends with my mom. Whenshe told us they were selling, I reached out. I made a cash offer, and they said it felt right to give it back to me..." he looks a little panicked now, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to explain. "I made a cash offer and well... it's ours—if you wanted to live here."
"You bought this house for us," seems to be the only thing I'm capable of saying right now.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, baby—I just... it's selfish, but I didn't want anyone else to buy it before I could. I promise, I'll add your name to the deed, I just didn't want to assume—"
Callum can't speak anymore because I've launched myself into his arms and have pulled his mouth down to mine. He freezes for only a moment before his arms lock around me like a vice, and he responds eagerly to the kiss. I'm not upset he bought the house. How could I be? Callum bought back his childhood home—this beautiful home I was falling in love with—just for us. He bought us an entire house to live in. It's ours. This whole house is ours.
