I don’t know exactly when it happened—when wanting her turned into something deeper—but I feel it now, clear as anything I’ve ever known. I can already see the version of myself who doesn’t want a single day without her in it.
I don’t know if this is love, but I’m pretty sure I’m standing right on the edge of it—and for once, I’m not afraid to fall.
The next morning, I’m lining up another screw when the screen door creaks behind me.
Madeline stands at the doorway in just my T-shirt, sleep-soft hair falling over one shoulder. She has both hands wrapped around a mug she must’ve found in the kitchen that I left for her. She looks like she belongs here.
“Have you built this all yourself?” she asks, looking at the in-progress deck.
“Depends,” I say. “Are you impressed?”
Her brows lift as she steps onto the deck, slow and careful like she’s still waking up. “Very. I didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”
I raise my eyebrows. “After last night?”
She blushes, shaking her head. “I meant…like this,” she says, gesturing around us. “I didn’t know you could build something like this.”
I laugh. “High school shop class. I was lethal with a table saw.”
“That’s deeply comforting,” she says dryly, but she’s smiling.
I set the drill down and cross the deck toward her. “It still needs railings obviously and I’m going to build steps down to the yard. Eventually, I want to put a table and chairs over there and a fire table in the corner.”
Her eyes light up as she turns slowly, taking it in like she’s already imagining it. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I think about it a lot,” I admit. “I picture people out here having drinks while I barbecue something on the grill. I didn’t buy this place to sit in it alone. I want to share it with my wife and kids someday.”
Her expression shifts.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, hooking a finger in the hem of her shirt, tugging her into me so I can kiss her. The mug is trapped between us, warm and awkward, but neither of us moves right away. When I pull back, I roll my forehead against hers and palm one side of her ass. “Does that freak you out?”
She swallows, eyes lifting to meet mine. “No,” she says thoughtfully. “It surprises me a little, but it doesn’t scare me.”
I brush my thumb against her hip under the T-shirt. “Good,” I murmur. “That’s kinda what I was hoping you’d say. We should spend our summer out here.”
She squints at me, her brow furrowing. “Are you really talking about next summer right now?”
“I’m not planning an exit, Mads. I’m planning ways to spend more time with you. Tell me that’s not crazy.”
“It’s not crazy. I just don’t know how to believe it yet. I’m not very good at believing good things can stay. I just might need a little time to get there.”
She doesn’t need to believe it yet. I can be patient whensomething really matters to me. Relief flickers through me and before I even know what I’m doing, I lift her up into my arms. She lets out a startled squeak before it turns into a full-on giggle as she wraps her legs around my waist, somehow balancing the coffee cup in her hand.
“Jesse,” she laughs, attempting to tug the shirt down over her ass with her free hand. “It’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors nearby out here.”
“I made you breakfast. We’re going inside.”
I walk us into the kitchen and set her gently on the cool granite countertop, stealing one more lazy kiss before I serve my girl breakfast.
THIRTY-FOUR
Madeline
Jesse’s hand is warm in mine, our fingers laced together as we stand on Cara and Ryan’s front porch.
“Ready?” I ask, giving his hand a squeeze.
“Always,” he says, confident as usual.
