The thought of losing G-Bets is devastating.
And now Helen.
My house isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for us to start our lives together. While giving her a tour, her face softens with every room she peeks into. It settles something in my chest, and it feels like this is where I belong, where I was always supposed to be.
In this moment. With her.
Her lips part and she lets out a small gasp when we step through the dining room and into the kitchen. It took me some time, but I had it upgraded about a year ago now. I wanted to do it myself, but I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t have the time.
The poured concrete countertops came out even better than I was hoping for. There are copper accents throughout the space, and the lower cabinets are navy. The lines are clean and masculine, but there is light, air, and room for a woman’s touch.
I’m hoping for Helen’s touch in this space.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs and looks up at me, a smile on her face is fragile and brave.
“I designed it with the thought of what it could be for the right person, how this space could become the heart of the home.”
“It could use some plants,” she whispers and bites down on her lip and my knees go weak. “Maybe a little color here and there.”
“That’s what the open shelving is for.”
“I like the metal accents.” She looks up at me from underneath her lashes and my heart starts to pound in my chest.
“What would you change?” I’m not sure why I ask the question, but it manages to slip out. It’s not a test, it’s curiosity.
Helen looks around, really looks and starts to nod slowly. She turns in a slow circle and taps her chin. “Maybe,” she muses and points to a bare wall in the breakfast nook area, “a sign saying something like ‘blessed’ or ‘eat’ right there.”
I choke on fucking air as I stare at her, unsure if I really heard her. Did she really just say that?
I think I sputter out a word or two, maybe, but they’re hardly understandable. Then she turns toward me and the mirth in her eyes has me closing the distance between us and tugging her until our bodies are flush.
With narrowed eyes and fake outrage, I ask, “Are you making fun of me?”
Her hands slide up my chest and then wrap around my neck. “No, I would never,” she gasps with wide eyes.
The smile on her face is luminous. My hand glides around her hip to anchor her to my body while the other slides up until my fingers are tangled in her hair.
“But your face was very cute when you couldn’t decide if I was being serious or not,” she teases me.
“Cute?” I challenge her.
She nods and I’m about to take her mouth in another brutal kiss when the timer on the oven beeps and I mutter, “Damn.”
I hate to pull away from her when she’s smiling, but I have to. She leans against the island while I grab the tray out of the oven and set it on the stove. Helen’s eyes light up as she cranes her neck to see exactly what I’m making.
“Would you rather eat in here or in the dining room?”
The look she gives me is pure innocence. “I like it in here, is that okay?”
“Of course,” I assure her, “this is where I eat most of the time. I usually only use the dining room when G-Bets comes over.” She arches an eyebrow in question and I explain, “My grandmother.”
“That’s sweet. Is she traditional? Is that why you use the dining room?” There’s no judgement in her questions, only curiosity.
My grandmother will fall in love with Helen. Just like I have.
I’ve come to accept that I’ve fallen for this woman. I’m embracing it fully.
“She is kind of traditional and can be stern and a little on the stiff side. But she’s also fierce, generous, and kind. She raised me,” I share with her while I focus on plating up tonight’s dinner.
