There’s a long silence before he dips his chin. “Okay, baby. Full transparency, I promise.” He reaches up with both hands, cupping my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “This past week, I haven’t been at my best. I was stressed, and I let it all get to me. It stops now.”
My smile is tremulous, misgivings swirling in my head. “Okay,” I whisper, knowing my love for him is strong enough that I can get past this. I can keep fighting for him. Last night, his actions spoke for me when he chose me over Paisley, showing me that I was still his priority, even if his judgment lapsed throughout the week. I can give him the benefit of the doubt now, even with the apprehensive whispers sliding through my mind.
“Yeah?” he asks, searching my eyes intently. “I love you so much, Gracie. I never want you to doubt that.”
“Yeah,” I agree simply. “We’ll do a reset this week. Start again. Okay?” I press my forehead to his, inhaling his scent. “Plus, there’s no fighting in December. It’s a rule.” We sit like that for the longest time, soaking in each other’s presence.
When our coffees are cold and our hearts calm, he leans back, gifting me a smile. “What’s my serial killer percentage?”
I stare at him solemnly. “45.3 percent.”
“What’s your limit? 46?”
I bob my head. “46.8.”
He hums. “Right on the edge, then, aren’t I?” The corner of his mouth twitches, but then he leans forward, brushing his mouth against mine. “I’ll get it back down again,” he promises. “But right now, I need to get dressed. We have somewhere we need to be.”
I frown, sifting through my memory for what we might have to do today, but coming up blank. “What’re you talking about?”
“Surprise, remember?” He stands up, reaching for one of my hands. I let him pull me up, wrapping me in a hug so tight that my ribs protest painfully. “We’ve got a house to go see.”
A squeak of surprise leaves me as I pull back, staring up at him with wide eyes. “What?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he murmurs. “Marjorie doesn’t normally work on Sundays, but I begged. Said I’d owe her one.” His smile softens his eyes as he stares down at me. “She knows how much you love this house.”
My eyes fill without my permission, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. “We’re going to see the house?” I ask waveringly. “The one on Oak Street? With the shutters? And the garden?”
He chuckles softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Yeah, baby. We’re going to see the house.”
CHAPTER 8
Braxton
“The kitchen has recently been renovated. The owners really wanted the place to be picture perfect before it sold.” Majorie follows me through the kitchen, smiling when we hear Gracieohhing andahhing over the original crown molding in the living room. “They’re an older couple, but they lived here for forty years with their two children. Now, everyone has flown the nest, so they’re ready to downsize.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets, taking in the slate-gray marble counters and off-white cabinetry, imagining what our life might look like here. A small smile tugs at my mouth before I look at Marjorie again. “And they’re firm on price?”
She tilts her head, looking around the room critically. “Yes. Sterling Creek real estate has really taken off in the last couple of years, and they’ve done their research. This house has been listed at a little over market value, but with the work they’ve done”—she taps a finger nail against the kitchen island—“I’m sure you’ll agree it’s worth the cost.”
I wander over to the kitchen window, which faces the left side of the house. There isn’t much to see but trees andthe old wooden fence separating the property from the one next door.
“That fence will need replacing,” I murmur, desperately trying not to think of Gracie standing at a window in a different kitchen, listening to a conversation I never should have let happen.
Marjorie joins me, looking out the window thoughtfully. “Not right away, though.” She gives me a long look just as Gracie comes into the kitchen.
“Every room is better than the last,” she says enthusiastically, moving around the kitchen, disappearing into the pantry, and then back out. “There’s so much space forthings.”
I chuckle. “What things were you thinking of, exactly?”
“Everything.” Gracie’s eyes are bright, a massive contrast to the solemnity andhurtI was facing this morning. Guilt slices through my stomach, air catching in my throat. “Having the apartment has been one thing, but having ahome?” She stops beside the island, her eyes touching on every detail of the kitchen. Hidden in my pocket, my hand clenches into a fist.
“Go check out the bedrooms.” I tip my head in that direction. When she’s gone, I look back at Marjorie. “Do you need the offer before Christmas?”
She pushes her glasses up her nose. “While things tend to quiet down over Christmas, houses do still get snapped up, especially by people in desperate situations, willing to pay for a fast turnaround.” She purses her lips in thought, one hand tugging at the sleeve of her blazer. “I’d recommend getting it in next week at the very latest. I’ve held off showing anyone else this place as a favor to your mother, but I can’t do that after today.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll leave you two to finish looking around.” Marjoriegives me one last professional smile and then sweeps out of the room, heading for the front door. I wait for it to shut behind her, dragging a deep breath into my lungs. Feeling steadier, I search out Gracie, finding her standing in a small bedroom with soft blue walls and a bay window seat.
