I’m going to fucking kill him.
My body is humming in lust and anticipation. I need him inside me yesterday.
He gestures for me to follow him into the spare bedroom, but my heart stops as my eyes take in the beautiful, bright room. The floors are gleaming blond hardwood, the walls mocha and the windows are wide and let in ample light.
Lining three of the walls are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Speakers are mounted in two corners of the room, and a sound system is mounted near the doorway.
“A library?” My eyes meet his. He’s watching me closely as he nods. “I’ve always wanted a library.”
“You have?”
I nod and wander through the empty space, imagining hundreds of books filling the shelves and deep, soft furniture and throw rugs sprinkled around the space.
“Aside from dancing, reading is my favorite thing.”
“I’m surprised you find time to read,” he says and watches me wander the room.
“I don’t often anymore. When we were touring, it was either find a corner to yourself and read or drive each other crazy. This would be the perfect room to escape to, curl up in a chair with a good book and waste an afternoon.” I stop in front of the windows and look out on the back yard, the fire pit and lounge where we made love in the middle of the night, the grassy lawn that’s just starting to turn deep green, and I know in my heart that this is where I want to be. After more than ten years of touring and working and not having a true home, I want this home with this man.
“What are you thinking?” Mark asks as he slides up behind me and wraps his arms around me, kissing my cheek.
“This is a beautiful home, M.”
“Thank you. I hope someone will be happy here.”
“What are you talking about?” I spin in his arms and frown up at him.
“I’m going to finish remodeling it and sell it.”
“You bought it to flip it?” I ask and gaze about the beautiful room.
“Yes.”
“But…” Why do I suddenly feel like all of my hopes and dreams were just snatched out from under me?
“But what?” He grips my chin in his thumb and forefinger and catches my gaze in his.
“I just thought you planned to live here.”
“Do you want to live here?”
“Pshaw,” I roll my eyes and pull out of his arms, trying with all my might to cover my disappointment. I’m being ridiculous! “We’re nowhere near ready to move in together.”
“Then why do you look so sad?” He pushes his hands in his pockets and watches me quietly.
“I’m not sad.” I walk toward the doorway, my shoes clicking loudly on the floor. “Show me the rest.”
I turn and wait for him, one eyebrow raised, but he hasn’t moved. He’s still watching me silently until I feel my cheeks flush.
“Talk to me, M.”
“I just like your house, Mark. It’s just a house.”
A house that I’d started to think of as ours, which is completely ridiculous.
He slowly walks to me and cups my cheek in his palm and kisses my forehead tenderly before taking my hand in his and leading me out of the room and up a back stairway that I didn’t know was here.
“This house is bigger than it looks.”
“It’s deep, so yeah, it’s bigger than it looks from the street,” he replies. “I’ve been remodeling it with a family in mind, hoping that it’ll attract a young family to buy it.”
He guides me to a bedroom and walks through ahead of me. The room has been painted baby pink with white filmy curtains and gray carpeting. It’s clearly a little girl’s room.
“This bedroom is attached to the other bedroom through a jack and jill bathroom.” He slides a door open, revealing a bathroom with fresh colorful tile and countertops, leading through the other side to another bedroom, the same size as the last. This one is painted blue with white curtains and the same gray carpet.
“Very cute,” I say with a smile.
Holy shit, I can imagine our kids in these bedrooms. What the fuck is wrong with me?
He’s still watching me soberly, and I can see that he’s not buying my bright smile.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Why would anything be wrong?” I shrug and turn my back on him to walk out into the hallway toward the other end of the house where the master suite is. Until I saw that library downstairs, this was my favorite room. The bed is big and comfortable, the carpet deep and soft under bare feet, and instead of regular windows, there is a wall of glass with a door that opens onto a small balcony.
I can picture myself sitting on that balcony every Sunday morning for the rest of my life, drinking coffee while I listen to birds sing in the trees. Or rock my babies to sleep out here while I listen to crickets and watch the stars.
And in every scenario, Mark is in the chair next to mine.
I’m so jumping ahead of myself here. I didn’t really think about it too much before, but now that he’s said that he’s going to sell the house, it feels like I’ve lost something… important.
“Okay,” Mark says abruptly and lifts me in his arms, then lies on the bed with me. “Something’s up. Speak.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sad, M. We went from hot horniness to sadness in the blink of an eye, and I want to know why.”
I shrug and bite my lip, feeling ridiculous.