The off-campus house we’re staying in is fine, but it was always meant to be a rental. And now with six people, a cat, and a tentative request from Trish and Jade for a place to stay over summer break now that things between RJ’s mom and dad are falling apart, we needed a better space than a four-bedroom rental property within walking distance of a school none of us go to.
Looking up at the house, my breath catches. “Wait,” I say, grabbing RJ’s arm. “Is this?”
“The free apple house? Yup. It just came onto the market yesterday. The owner’s requesting that the new buyers honor the fall tradition of giving away the apples.”
His golden-brown eyes shine as a hint of a smile peeks out from his beard, and I end up flinging myself into his arms.
“Not so fast, princess. You might not like the inside,” Walker teases, his crutches making rhythmic clinks down the icy sidewalk.
I look up at the Tudor-revival mansion, the stucco and swooping rooflines coupled with a wood-grid dancing across the third floor, and I can’t help but feel like it’s somehow cute and whimsical, despite its size.
“Can we afford this?” I ask nobody in particular.
But of course it’s Trips who answers. “Clara, we could buy this outright if we wanted to liquidate our cash assets. As it is, once my father’s estate settles, we’ll have double that at least. So don’t worry about the numbers. Just see if you can imagine us living here.”
The inside still has its original hardwood floors and trim, but it’s bright and light, welcoming where the Westerhouse estate was dreary. The windows out front offer a view of thelake, while the side and back of the house look into the tiny orchard. Outside there’s a big patio and hot tub just steps from a greenhouse-like breakfast nook.
It might be winter, but I can imagine how green and gorgeous all the views will be come summer.
Jansen comments on all the places Fluffington would love to sun himself, while Walker tentatively claims a small, windowed alcove as a studio space because of the beautiful light. RJ finds a room in the basement that he comments would work great for when he does his deep dives into the dark web, and Trips is quick to point out that another basement room could be turned into an at-home gym.
But it’s the giant master suite that sells me on the place.
There’s a fireplace, a massive tub in the en suite, and enough space for two king-sized mattresses pushed together.
When we first talked about what we wanted in a house, RJ insisted that we each have our own bedrooms, me included, even if we usually spend the night together now.
With Mattie, Trish, and Jade coming to live with us, I was more than willing to give my extra space up for a while, as were Jansen and Walker, but either way, it was obviously perfect.
I could already see myself coming in from a run around the lake and finding all four of my guys waiting for me. Elaborate meals around a big, bright table. Leisurely mornings spent sprawled in a pile of limbs after long nights spent savoring each other.
And every fall, putting up a sign to invite the neighbors to pick our apples, sharing what we have with others.
We gather in the living room, Walker on the couch on my left, Jansen on my right, RJ and Trips taking armchairs on either side of us.
“So, what do we think?” Walker asks.
“I want it,” Jansen says.
My smile grows as, one by one, each of us agrees that this is what we were looking for. This is our home.
And when I glance up at the blank screen of the TV across from us, I see a portrait of the five of us reflected back, building the future we’d always wanted. Together.
Epilogue
Clara
One Year Later
It’s funny how you can get used to things that once seemed impossibly difficult. Take waltzing, or blending in with socialites, or worst of all, the bickering of your partners in your ear while you’re trying to do a clean lift. It’s a good thing I love them all so much.
I turn away from my mark with a flirtatious smile that means nothing, then pull out my phone and press it to my ear as I weave through the glittering ballroom. “You guys, if you’ve finished taking bets on how fast we can get out of here, you’ll see that I’ve got the access card. Jansen?”
“Of course, beautiful. I’ll meet you by the doors on the balcony.”
“I still don’t like that you’re not here as my date,” Trips complains.
Catching his eye across the room, I take in his linen suit and light blue dress shirt, his lazy grin oozing leisurely dilettante. The European summer is doing something for the man, that’s for sure. I flash him the homemade finger sign Jansen came up with to let him know he’s looking hot, and his casual slouch shifts to barely contained beast, his eyes tracing over the excessive amount of skin I’m showing.
