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“Wait!” I yell after her. My hairline prickles and sweat beads at the base of my skull.
After months of imagining how I’d reveal the home I built for her—for us—I fucked it up. Izzy’s halfway down the street already, each one of her sobs smacking me in the face as I chase her. I pictured this going differently. I pictured her jumping into my arms and kissing me like we’ve been building to this moment for all these months. Kissing me like she’s so proud that I finally understand what she was talking about with all that putting down roots business. Kissing me like, Damn, you built me a nice house, babe.
I didn’t get any of that. What I got was a whole lot of hostility.
“I’m done playing games with you!”
A few long strides have me on her heels. “Izzy, stop. Don’t run away on me.”
She halts on a dime and spins around. Not expecting it, I slam into her and have to act fast to keep her on her feet before the full force of my body sends her flying and I have that to apologise for too. My hands circle her upper arms and keep her from bolting again.
“You’ve misunderstood.”
“How is this on me?” Her caustic tone eats away at my chest.
I throw my head back and growl to the sky. It’s hard not to order her to stand still and be quiet, but I try because I have to show her I can.
“Can you stop being so stubborn for a second?” Clearly, I’m a work in progress. “This is new to me, okay? I obviously messed up.” My lungs deflate on a heavy sigh, unsure of what else I can do to express my exasperation. “Can I please try again?” My hands leave her body, asking her to hear me out voluntarily.
I’m a lucky bastard that she agrees with a single stiff finger pointed skyward, telling me not to fuck up again because I won’t get another chance.
“Did you listen to my messages?” I ask. She narrows her eyes on me, giving me the answer I want. “Do you remember me asking you about the windows on a project?”
“The one where you were seeking my professional opinion for free?”
Natural light is a big thing for designers. In Izzy’s design, she left her grandmother’s single bedroom window exactly how it was built in the 1950s and I knew she did that because she wasn’t changing the exterior. Since I was building from scratch, keeping it or changing it wasn’t an issue. At least from a construction standpoint. It was, however, important from a personal standpoint.
Looking out that window had meaning for Izzy. She liked to stare into the backyard like her grandmother did. She imagined herself watching her kids from that perch and, one day, her grandkids too. I needed that window to be perfect—not for me and my reputation of building great homes, but for her. I wanted it to be the best window possible.
“That wasn’t a random project I was talking about. Those windows are in this house.” I nod toward Gran’s lot. “I wanted your opinion, your footprint.”
“So someone else could enjoy that part of me too? You needed to spill a little more of my blood on the pristine wide-planked floors? Nail a few more pieces of my soul to the walls?”
I’m talking too much. I should show her, but I doubt she’ll walk across the street with me. I tug on my hair until the roots burn.
Not all the messages were about building the house. In fact, most of them weren’t. Most were telling her about my day. About things that Tommy said or how Pops was doing. Sometimes I’d call to hear her recorded voice telling me to leave a message. I always did. I’d tell her how I hoped she was having a nice day, how I missed seeing her across the fence.
“Do you know where I made every one of those calls from?” I ask. She refuses to answer. I grab her hand and lead her to stand in front of Gran’s. “Right here.” I point across the road. “In this house. Each question I asked you. Each fantasy I shared with you. Each story from my day. Like my messages, every inch of this was designed with purpose. With you as its purpose.”
Her stunned state gives me the opportunity to touch her. I hold her hands, hoping that she’ll hold me back.
“I built this house for you because it’s your dream. And, Izzy, you’re my dream.”
I give her a moment to absorb what I’ve said. The moment stretches into a minute and that minute becomes two. When I’ve had enough of waiting, I tip her chin, hovering my lips above hers. We stare at each other, neither of us moving to step it up or pull away. Her red-rimmed blue eyes flit back and forth over my steadfast gaze. She can try to read between my thoughts all night long, but she won’t find anything different from what I said. I meant every word. I don’t want to waste another day living without her. And if I don’t get to be with her for as long as I want, I’m okay with that, because however much time I get will be worth it.
“You did this for me?”
I shake my head against hers. “You did this. You showed me that there’s more than one way to hold on to memories. You made me see I want to create some of my own.”
My lips drag over hers several times, pleading with her to lean in with purpose and kiss me. Begging her to grant me entry so she can feel what I’m saying. There’s hesitation when her mouth separates and her lips finally, but barely, latch on to mine. We stand, loosely joined for a breath until the point of her tongue drags across my bottom lip. Reluctance leaves her, and her mouth parts to kiss me properly. Kiss me with all the emotion she’s been holding back so vehemently. She sighs into me and I pull her closer, settling into the taste of her lips and the sounds she makes. Settling into the idea that we are perfect together.
When we stop kissing, I don’t let her go. I cradle her cheeks and hold her head tipped towards mine so she can’t pull away from me when I tell her the things I’ve been thinking for a very long time. This woman makes me crazy. She makes me say all the things I promised myself I’d never say.
“Izzy, I’m petrified of falling in love, but I’ve done it, anyway. You once told me I didn’t have dreams, I only had goals. You were right, but I’ve changed. I have dreams now. Lots of them. And you are at the centre of every one of them. I’ll have to deal with you taking Ubers with strangers and climbing on to roofs, but I’ll be okay with it if you let me ride and climb with you. And it will be easier to keep tabs on you if we live under the same roof.”
I love watching the different emotions skip across her face. Her eyes shine with tears and there’s a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
“You mean you’d live here too?”
“The house and I are kind of a package deal.” I laugh cautiously.
She pretends to mull the idea over, tapping a finger against her lip for effect, although the rose rising in her cheeks is a dead giveaway that she’s already committed. When she laughs, I exhale, then I seal my fate with a kiss so deep that our children’s children will be locked into my deal with this wondrous woman.
I didn’t think I had it in me—the ability to give myself to someone else and love her for eternity, nor have the words to express what I’m feeling—but it was there all along, waiting for the right person.
“You know,” she says while I drop kisses along her neck. “The last time we kissed like this, we did things that aren’t suitable for the middle of the road.”
I grasp her hand and lead her across the street. “Why don’t we go inside, then?”