“Where are we going?” he finally asks, pausing the audiobook when we pass the road that leads us downtown toward the diner where he loves to eat.
“To eat lunch,” I remark simply, trying to hide my knowing smirk.
He harrumphs and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms and looking out the window and watching our surroundings.
When we pull in front of my house, I put my car in park and turn toward him, grabbing both of his hands in mine.
“Look at me,” I tell him, and he turns his head toward me. “I love you more than anything. You are my world, and the reason my earth spins on its axis.” Hunter’s eyes widen.
“You always say stuff like this, and it stresses me out. I hope you know that.”
I chuckle, leaning across the console and kissing him.
“I’m sorry, I’m not the best with words, but I know how much you love them, so I try to be good at it, for you,” I say, honestly. “Wait for me, I’m going to come around and open your door, but I have a surprise inside for you.”
“Is this your house?” he gasps, finally paying attention to the house in front of us. The whitewashed-brick, two-story house sits on ten acres of land right outside of town, with a black wrought iron fence blocking the yard from others. A wraparound porch has a porch swing and individual chairs on it. I figured we would need space to sit when we invite our friends and family over. He has yet to see the biggest surprise.
“Yes.” Technically it’s both of ours because I also put his name on the deed when I bought it, but he doesn’t need to know that yet. I don’t want him to feel like he has to give up his house to move into this one. Fuck, if he ends up hating this house I’ll sell it and we can move into his. Or another one. I don’t care where we end up as long as we’re together.
I get out and open his door. We walk hand in hand to the front door and my heart is pounding in my chest. I push the door open, and the fresh scent of lemon greets us.
Hunter’s mouth is agape while he stares at the open floor plan. The hardwood glints with the sunlight streaming in through the wide bay windows are above the reading nook that I had custom-designed for him. The plush cushions are propped against the edges of the seat, neutral colors to help create a calm environment for him to enjoy when he needs to unwind.
“Wow.” He gapes at me. He quickly shucks off his shoes and places them on the rack beside the front door. I watch him walk around, taking in the clean space. The walls are filled with abstract art intermixed with pictures of us. I told the decorator I wanted minimalistic but also meaningful, and they delivered.
“Come on.” The real surprise I want to show him is upstairs. “Close your eyes.” He looks at me hesitantly and I cock my eyebrow.
“You don’t trust me to not let you fall?”
“The stairs look slick; we’d both end up with broken legs because I would drag you down with me.” A laugh bursts out of me, and Hunter joins in, the bright sound echoing in our space.
“I won’t let you fall, and I won’t fall either. I promise.” I offer him my hand, and he wipes the corner of his eye with his hand. He closes his eyes, and I slowly guide him up the stairs, holding on to the rail for extra support.
When we get to the landing, I double-check that his eyes are still closed as I lead him into the first door on the right. I pushopen the door, stepping across the threshold and onto the luxury carpeted floor, the soft threads cushioning my sock-covered feet.
The dark, intricately carved wooden shelves reflect the overhead light across the floor.
I keep my grip on Hunter until we’re in the center of the room. His computer station is against the far wall, the expensive desktop computer equipped with a newly installed design program that Tyler told me Hunter prefers to use. His computer background is a photo that I took of the pond behind his parents’ house, the same one he took me to all those years ago.
A corkboard is to the left of the monitor, waiting to be filled with whatever Hunter decides to put there. Whatever dreams he comes up with, I’ll make sure to provide access to them. Lining the wall catty-corner to it is every accomplishment Hunter has ever made. Newspaper articles, magazine articles, online articles. All of them detailing how much he’s accomplished in his short life.
His bright face is featured in the articles, holding awards or being photographed at events for his old job. Smack dab in the center of the wall is a picture of him in front of his bookstore, his white teeth shining brightly in the sun and his brown eyes partially shut due to the sunlight shining directly on him, bathing him in all of its glory.
The bookshelves are filled with a myriad of romance books, most of them from the LGBTQIA+ catalog. But I did let a few of our friends, and Shay, pick books out to surprise Hunter with. Those are on a separate shelf, though. Heaven forbid he picks up a historical biography novel (thanks to Kian thinking the name of it was funny) expecting a romance.
I let go of him and step away so I can watch his reaction. I’ll be able to tell if he actually hates it, he does a great job of wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Or maybe it’s because of who he is,and who I am. Two souls linked together that heaven or hell couldn’t separate.
“Open your eyes, Hunter,” I tell him.
He turns his body to face me, and his eyes open. His dark brown irises meet mine, and his forehead creases in question when he sees me standing away from him.
Hunter finally realizes that there are things to look at other than me, turning his body. A loud gasp cuts through the silence when his eyes land on one of the bookshelves. A copy of every book cover he’s ever done is facing the front, displaying intricate designs with bright names and beautiful stories within the covers. Hard work thathe’saccomplished.
There are also a few he hasn’t done. His favorite hockey romance series is neatly stacked and pressed against the edge, with a special edition copy of each. They cost a pretty penny to get online, but so worth it. I wait for him to notice the one that doesn’t match the rest, and he doesn’t disappoint. He approaches the bookshelf with his hand outstretched like he’s going to encounter a rabid animal. I watch his hand shake as he grabs the beat-up cover off the shelf. The same book he used to keep in his bag, not a copy of it, but theexact same one.Annotation tabs stick out of the side, the neutral colors complementing the cover.
“How?” he says, his voice trembling, and I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his midsection, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.
“I follow Brittany and Zoey on social media. They’re still happily together, living in Colorado, but I messaged Zoey asking if she still had the book she borrowed from you. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to take it.” His body shakes, and I realize he’s crying as he thumbs through the book. Pen markings and stickers cover every page.
