My heart stops. “What?”
“I bought it when I got released, before I knew you’d… be mine,” he says, running his hand through his hair. I love when he looks boyish like this. “Been fixing it up.” He reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wanted it to be perfect for you. For us.”
I stare at him, then at the house, then back at him. “You—you bought us a house?”
“Aye. At first, I had every intention of staying in my family’s home, as this wasn’t ready yet. But then… I thought of you and your family and figured the last thing you’d want is to be married to me and sharing space with a crowd.”
He’s not wrong.
“So I tabled the plans for renovation and did a quick fix of the place instead. Thought you might like having a place that’s just ours. No family. No business. Just… us.” His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s nervous. “If you don’t like it, we can?—”
I kiss him… hard, pouring everything I can’t say into it—the overwhelming gratitude, the tentative love.
When I pull back, he’s grinning. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”
“Show me,” I whisper. “Show me everything.”
He carries me over the threshold—literally sweeps me up like I weigh nothing, and I’m laughing and almost crying at the same time because it’s ridiculous and perfect and him.
The inside is stunning. Warm wood floors, exposed beams, a stone fireplace that’s already crackling with a fire someone must have lit for us. The furniture is simple but beautiful, all soft fabrics, and warm colors, like he chose a palette that saidcalmand filled it with perfection.
There’s a kitchen that opens into the living space, all clean lines and modern touches, balanced with rustic charm.
“Cavin,” I whisper, spinning slowly to take it all in. “It’s perfect.”
“There’s more.” He takes my hand, leading me down a hallway lined with framed photographs—landscapes mostly, rolling green hills and dramatic coastlines. “Three bedrooms. Main one’s ours, obviously.”
He pushes open the first door, revealing a spacious room with a massive bed that looks like it could sleep four. The furniture is darkwood, masculine but not oppressive, and there’s a wall of windows overlooking what I can only assume is the back garden.
“This one’s just a spare for now,” he says, moving to the next door. “Thought maybe… if family ever needed a place to stay…”
I blink. Iloveit.
The third door opens to a smaller room, and I suck in a breath.
There’s a comfortable armchair positioned near a window with the best light, a small table already set up beside it. Shelves line one wall—empty now, but clearly waiting to be filled. The walls are painted a soft, warm cream, and there’s a reading lamp, the expensive kind that doesn’t strain your eyes.
“There’s a little room for you,” he says, and I can hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Set up a little table for puzzles and the like. Thought you could… knit or some such.”
I turn to look at him, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Figured you’d need a space that’s just yours. To think, or read, or whatever it is you do. Maybe retreat or whatever.”
My throat tightens. “Cavin…”
“If it’s shite, we can change it,” he says quickly. “Paint it different, move things around. Whatever you want.”
“It’s not shite,” I manage. “It’s… you made me aspace. Forme.”
“Aye, well.” He shifts his weight and winks. “Can’t have you cluttering up the whole house with your bits and bobs, can I?”
But I can see through the gruffness. He’s given me a room of my own in a house that’s supposed to be ours. A place to retreat, to breathe, to be myself.
I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Thank you.”
His arms come around me, solid and warm. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I insist, pulling back to look at him. “It’s everything.”
