“One four three, my Nat. One four three.”
“One four three two.” I hang up, reminiscing on how Jake started telling Allie one-four-three back in high school and how it stuck. Now, they’ve extended their secret code to the rest of our friend group. I love them so much, and I’m so glad they got over their nonsense years ago when Allie moved back to Baker Oaks—their own second-chance romance in the flesh.
Holden opens the door, whispering, “Hey, sorry about that.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, my fire alarm went off, and because nobody could get a hold of me, it alerted emergency services.” He sighs. “I need to go inside and check on a few things. Do you want to come in? It shouldn’t take long.”
I nod. “Yes, of course.” I grab the hand he so graciously held out for me.
“Coach King,” I greet him as he passes me.
“Call me Liam, please.” Firefighter Liam King. How interesting. “You two have a good night. See you soon, Clay.”
He walks away into his truck with his buddies as Holden and I walk the oak tree-framed path to his house. The trees create a magical bridge for us, moss falling over them. It’s serene, almost mythical, a little bit like him. His house is nestled between even more trees, and a soft light out back shines over the lake. Magnolia Springs is famous for the giant lake around which the town was built, and his house sits right on the bank.
I bet it’s even prettier when the sun hasn’t set. I bet you can have coffee sitting by the water and hear the birds sing.
I bet it’s perfect, just like him.
We step through white double doors, and inside is nothing I’d pictured. I imagine Holden’s home to be neutral and minimalist, but it looks more like a teenager decorated it. I smile as I look at the colorful walls and the psychedelic rugs, all in great harmony with his white and cream furniture.
I’m so lost in noticing the green stove and the lamps with birds on the corners, the mahogany credenza with little specks of color, I don’t notice we’ve stopped, or that he’s staring at me.
“What?”
His smile grows wider than the rising moon outside. “Did it surprise you?”
“Are you a mind reader?” I joke, making him shake his head and chuckle.
“You’re very easy to read, Beauty. What? Did my home not hold up to your standards? Too much color?”
I gasp. “You wound me, sir.” I turn, my arms open wide. “It’s like an explosion of color here in the best way.” I look past him to the rest of the house—the same vibes, save for the kitchen. The kitchen is all muted colors and tidy countertops, a coffee pot in the corner, some fruit, and that’s it. Other than the green stove, everything is monochromatic.
“Liz wanted to be an adult so she could decorate her house with color. She used to say that adults have so many options, and yet, we were all boring.”
His words sober me, but where I expect to find him sad, he looks content. At peace.
“After she passed, I had the hardest time going through their things, so my friends helped me. Daisy, one of my friends, found her planning journal. I was so mad at everything, but not at them, never at them. Liz had so many dreams; she was so young, you know? And then, I had a journal full of her hopes and the space and money to make them come true, even if she wasn’t here to see them.”
His eyes roam the place as he exhales, continuing. "My friend's sister is an interior designer, and she made this happen.”
“It’s beautiful and so much fun. I love it.”
“Thanks. I think so too,” he replies, looking around his colorful home.
“That’s part of the reason why I wear fun clothes or put sprinkles, sugar cubes, and cinnamon in all my coffees. I’m adult with adult making decisions. I can get a little serotonin boost with every coffee cup or outfit choice if I want.”
He gasps. “Are sprinkles, sugar cubes, and cinnamon the secret ingredients to your coffees?”
My hands cover my chest in mock surprise. “Busted. But also love. I make everything with love.” I swallow hard at the implication, but he doesn’t even flinch, so I clear my throat. "Did you say you had to check on something?”
He nods. “Yes. Can you give me a few?”
“Sure.”
“Make yourself at home.” He squeezes my hand and walks into a hallway, leaving me alone in this beautiful house. There’sa sliding glass door in the back calling my name. He said to make myself at home, so stepping outside a few feet surely is that.
