I park the truck in her driveway and follow her inside, softly shutting the door behind us, resting my back against it. She flicks a light on, a warm glow filling the space.
“Good night?” I ask. She turns to look at me, dipping her chin down. “You’re very quiet.”
Gracie’s lips quirk. “I was thinking.” She steps closer to me, and my breath stalls, stomach swooping at the look in her eyes.
“Yeah?” I rasp. “What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking,” Gracie says slowly, “that this has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
I frown dramatically. “What about last year? We spent a weekend at the B&B by the beach, having breakfast in bed every morning…” I trail off when she shakes her head.
“Nope.” She pops thepas she says it, her eyes mischievous. “Definitely today.”
“I haven’t even given you your present yet,” I protest lightly, and it’s Gracie’s turn to frown in confusion.
“Wasn’t the surprise party my present?” She looks over at the flowers, perched in a crystal vase on the side table. “And the flowers…”
“Nope,” I mimic her. “It’s, uh…” I rub the back of my neck. “It’s actually in the truck.”
“Why?” The one word is all demand, her eyes flashing eagerly before she orders, “Go get it!”
“Well, I don’t know if I want to now,” I say, and her eyes narrow in warning. “Fine, fine, I’m going.”
The gift is wrapped in two blankets, lying in the bed of the truck, strapped down to make sure it didn’t shift around when I drove. I make quick work of pulling it out and carrying it back inside. Gracie’s eyes widen as she watches me angle myself sideways to get through the door, approaching slowly.
“What on earth…?”
I grin at her to hide the nerves. “If you don’t like it…too bad.” I set it down gingerly, leaning the covered frame against my legs. “I can’t take it back, but Mom has said she’s willing to hang it in her house. In fact, she’s told me firmly that she wants something similar forherbirthday…”
She approaches slowly, dropping to her knees in front of me and reaching for the blankets. I huff out a laugh. “Not exactly what I pictured when I imagined you on your knees.”
Gracie flicks a dark glare up at me, and I clamp my mouth shut, letting her focus back on her task. She pulls each blanket away tortuously slowly, her eyes flaring wide as she reveals the watercolor painting underneath—a perfect likeness for her house.
I got a photograph off Marjorie from when the house was listed, instructing the painter to create a perfect replica, permanently capturing Gracie’s first home as it was when she bought it. The fence is crooked, the paint of the wooden walls faded, and each tree, plant, and bush painted perfectly to match their real counterparts.
“Oh,” Gracie gasps, sitting back on her heels, tracing a finger over the faint clouds and the greenery surrounding the house.
“I talked to Halsey that night at Benson’s,” I tell her. “You went to the bathroom, and I asked about The Sterling Thread and what it was like to work there. I had thisidea for what I wanted, but she doesn’t work with watercolors and, in my head, it needed to be watercolors,” I ramble, unable to stop the stream of words, Gracie’s eyes never leaving the artwork. “Don’t ask me why. Anyway, I went and talked to the store owner, Lynley, and she put me in contact with a local painter and…” I finish with a lame, “Ta-da!”
“Braxton,” Gracie murmurs, awestruck. “This is…”
“Horrible? Lame? Terrible?” I offer, and she lets out a giggle.
“Perfect,” she corrects. “And you’re right. This wasn’t the best birthday…” I screw my face up, and Gracie grins, adding, “but now it is.”
“I’ll hang it for you tomorrow,” I tell her. “Anywhere you want. I have my tools in the truck.” I lean down and grab the painting, leaning it against a wall. When I turn back to face her, she’s standing, watching me. “There’s another reason I got you this.”
Her brows rise. “Oh, yeah?”
I swallow roughly, deciding to just throw every word I’ve got out and hope to hell it makes sense. “This house…” I glance around. “It represented the beginning of our lives together. Not just as a couple, but a family. It was where we would plant our roots—together.” I close my eyes, my mind taking me back to the weeks after the accident—a silent montage of every nightmare and every choice, each one accumulating into months of anger, regret, and hopelessness. “I can never take back what I did, Rumpel. I can’t give us those months back, and I’m not sure—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “I’m not sure that I would even want to.”
Gracie’s smile is wobbly, unsure. “Why?” The word is tentative, almost like she’s bracing herself for more hurt.
“I hate what I did to you,” I say quietly, my mouth dry. “I think about Christmas and—” A shudder rolls throughme. “I can still see the look in your eyes when you told me we were done. But to get to where we are today…” I pause, correcting, “To get to whereIam today, we had to go through it. I’m different now, Gracie. I’m a man who not only knows exactly what he’s got to lose, but also what it looks like when I do lose it.”
I close the distance between us, running my hands up over her arms, peering into her eyes. “This house still represents us, even if it doesn’t look like what we planned. Now, it just represents our growth and how we’re stronger together. Our journey didn’t start out how we wanted it to, but it was a challenge that showed me I wasn’t ready to be the man you deserve.” I lean down and press my forehead to hers. “But I’m trying to be now.”
“Braxton…” Her voice is soft as it trails off, her hands landing on my chest.
