Page 63 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

He lets out a sigh as he turns off the engine and faces me.

“I thought about taking you somewhere trendy or elegant, fun, I don’t know just different, but the thing is, this is my life now. Vivi is my life. We spend a lot of time at home, and I thought I would bring you here so you can see what our life looks like and let me cook you dinner. She’s out with Tyler at the moment, so it’ll be just us, but he’ll bring her back later. Then maybe the three of us can walk a few streets over so she can show you her favorite ice cream place. I know this isn’t the most romantic, but you’ll be able to decide sooner rather than later if this is something that you want. If we are something that you want.”

Instead of answering, I just watch him for a few moments. That comfortable silence from just a few moments ago turns heavy. One of his hands holds the wheel, and I hear the squeak of the leather as he tightens his grip. His lips purse together in a straight line, and he breathes in slowly through his nose, his nostrils flaring. He’s nervous, and I find it endearing because I’m nervous too. It makes sense that he would bring me here, and it also makes sense that he’s stating his intentions or concerns early. I appreciate that he’s not here to play games, but it goes both ways.

“How do you know that I’m what you want?” I ask, feeling a little uneasy.

He hesitates and tilts his head. “I guess I’m trying to figure that out too.”

“Okay. Then I’m glad you brought me here.” I smile at him, and he gives me a small smile back.

Getting out of the car, he meets me as I slide out. While we only live a few miles away from each other, the air here somehow feels and smells different. Yes, we’re surrounded by water, and maybe that’s it, but as we walk up the sidewalk and I glance around at the other houses of his neighbors, it’s the smell of grass, salt, the oak trees, and summer that makes this feel like home.

A home.

I don’t know what I expected about where Jonah lived. Maybe part of me still occupies the mindset of guys his age having bachelor pads, but this is anything but.

With his hand on my lower back, we walk inside together, and internally, I stutter as I need to take a moment. Jonah is years younger than me, yet standing here in his foyer, it feels the other way around. This is adulting. This is at a whole different level than I am, and I feel a mixture of pride for him and, in a way, inadequacy. At the present, my life is far from ever looking like this. I’m the walking stereotype of medical school loans and secondhand furniture. This house is straight out of a Restoration Hardware magazine.

“Jonah, your home is beautiful,” I tell him, as I basically do a three-sixty to take it all in.

He swallows, looks around to maybe see what I see, and then looks over at me. “Thank you. I can’t take all of the credit, though. I had some help.”

He might have had some help, but this isn’t a showroom. It’s a home. There are shoe baskets by the door, dog toys on the floor, and a small table I can see in the living room next to the kitchen for artwork. Yes, the furniture, lighting, and decor are stunning, but it’s more than that.

“Camille does have an amazing eye, doesn’t she?” I say to him, trying not to make him feel uncomfortable.

He tosses his keys into a bowl on the console by the door. “I basically gave her an unlimited budget, and this is what she came up with.”

The home is made up of warm tones. Beiges, different shades of green and wood, black wrought-iron accents for the light fixtures and the stair railing, and light. The home is bright and airy.

“Well, she also knows you well enough to know what you like and what you don’t like. So although she may have pulled it all together, it’s still you. Where did you live when we first met?”

“In a condo downtown. There’s one building where a lot of the team lives. Makes it easy for commuting to the facility.”

“I think that is more of what I expected even though I knew you lived on Davis Islands from what Camille told me. This is just so much more.”

“I needed to give Vivi a home. This house was available and move-in ready, so I bought it. I didn’t want Vivi to have to go from her house, to the condo, and then another house. She was already dealing with so much.”

I turn to face him. “You’re a good man. I hope you know that.”

He shrugs but looks relieved at my quick assessment.

“Can I get you a glass of wine?” he asks, changing the subject and moving toward the kitchen. In this house, the kitchen, dining, and living room is one great room. The furniture is laid out in a way that it all feels separate, yet the whole space is open.

“Yes, I’d love one,” I tell him as I walk around the living room and look at the pictures. There are a lot of his brother, his sister-in-law, and Vivi together. My heart aches at the thoughtfulness of him keeping them out so she can see them and remember her parents. I know firsthand how memories fade, except for the ones in the photos.

It’s then my gaze travels over the wall of windows leading to a back porch and the backyard.

“You have a pool.” I’m surprised, but I don’t know why. It seems like most people in Florida have a pool.

“Yes, and I’m glad,” he says as he pops a cork and pours us each a glass. “Vivi loves to swim. The only thing it’s missing is a hot tub. I’ve contemplated buying one and building a small deck for it.”

He also has a large wooden playground.

So . . . domestic.

So . . . perfect.