A small pang of sadness hits me, missing him and wishing we were having this experience together. It’s the start of us building a life in Chicago, and he’s missing out. Although I completely understand his need to stay in Nashville for the next few weeks to work on the album and soothe the band’s concerns, I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. Or that it doesn’t bring up some of my previous insecurities—ones I thought I was past until now.
“It seems Chelsi is a fan of this house. Do you have any strong feelings about it?” Danica asks pointedly, trying to suss out exactly whatI’mlooking for and whether today is a waste of time.
How do you politely tell someone you don’t know what you want and will be making zero decisions anytime soon? To someone who only makes money when you finally close on a home. Yeah, it’s a precarious situation I have to dance around, because I need her to stay engaged, but I also have no plans on doing anything until Jake’s here. I tried to explain that to him earlier, but he insisted I go on these showings without him, confident I could pick out what we needed.
“Both homes are lovely. Lots to talk about with Jake. But I doubt we’ll be making any offers today,” I answer, following Chelsi down the hallway as she searches for the next bedroom. If anything, Chelsi is getting more out of this than I am. It’s only making me question why I’m even bothering.
This nagging sensation hits me again, one that I’ve experienced before. It takes my breath away when I finally connect the dots. Is this situation similar to how I felt when Brian left all the wedding planning to me? Will Jake delegate major decisions about our lives to me to complete?
No. He wouldn’t do that.But isn’t that what’s happening now?
Fuck. This is so confusing.
Chelsi continues to be vocal as we finish up the showings, peppering Danica with questions about each home as if she’s the one making the purchase. I remain mostly quiet, consumed by the negative thoughts running through my mind—the ones making me question whether Jake is going to be as much of a partner as I originally thought.
“Have you and Jake decided how long you plan to live in Chicago?” Chelsi asks, sitting cross-legged on the sectional in our condo as she takes a sip of her Sauvignon Blanc. “I assume you’re not going to split your time between here and Nashville forever.”
“We haven’t set a firm timetable yet, only that we’d want to have one home base when we have children,” I reply, a hint of unease in my tone because, while we agree on the general idea, the spreadsheet-loving side of me wants more information. A clear timeline we’re working toward rather than a nebulous date.
Chelsi leans in, her eyebrows arched high with a giddy smile. “I swear that man is ready to wife you up at a moment’s notice. How often does he bring up the subject of kids?”
“He’s mentioned it a?—”
Three loud knocks on the door interrupt us.
“Hold that thought. Let me get rid of whoever is here. I swear I’m going to go ape shit crazy if it’s another uber fan who’s bypassed security.” Chelsi sets her wine glass on the coffee table and heads to the front door.
From where I’m sitting, I can’t tell who’s there and can barely overhear the brief conversation Chelsi’s having with them. Whenshe steps back into my view, she has a huge smile on her face, carrying a huge vase of cream roses and a decorative box.
“You have presents. I bet they’re from Jake. Seriously. Does this man have a brother? A cousin. Legit anyone in his family who you could hook a girl up with,” Chelsi teases, placing the flowers and box on the coffee table.
For a brief moment, my chest tightens, and I’m unable to move. Paralyzed by what’s standing in front of me. I force a smile, reaching over to read the card and feeling the tension dissipating when I see it’s from Jake, apologizing for missing out on house hunting with me. He’s sent my favorite flowers, along with a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. Although it’s an incredibly sweet gesture, my brain keeps flashing back to memories of Brian doing something similar. Sending a bouquet of red carnations every time he broke a promise. The size of the bouquet directly correlated to the significance of the broken promises.
That’s not what this is.Jake isn’t Brian.
Am I being triggered by receiving the same type of gift from someone else? Will I feel this way every time Jake sends me flowers when we’re apart? Constantly assuming there’s more to it than the sweet gesture he intends it to be. At what point will my trauma finally stop haunting me?
“Earth to Kate,” Chelsi says loudly, tapping my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nod, hoping it will somehow remove the spiraling thoughts from my mind. “I’m fine.”
“Ugh. The dreaded ‘fine.’ What’s wrong?” Chelsi asks, grabbing her wine and locking her eyes on me.
“Trying to wrap my head around everything.” I take a large gulp of wine to buy me more time before Chelsi starts the inquisition we both know is coming. Using the word “fine”activates her digging skills. She won’t stop until she’s gotten to the root of the problem.
Chelsi appraises me for a minute, tapping her nails against the wine glass, waiting for me to give her any additional clues. “Are we doing brutal honesty or supportive cheerleader?”
I startle at her question, not expecting to get a choice in the matter. “Let’s go with supportive cheerleader.”
Chelsi chuckles. “Wrong answer. You’ll get brutal honesty and then a mini pep talk. That’s all the supportive cheerleader I have in me today.”
I scoff. “Why bother asking me what I wanted, then?”
Chelsi smirks. “To see whether you were going to pick the right one. Or if you’re going to pretend everything’s fine when you’re internally freaking out.”
“I don’t know?—”
“Nope. You know the rules of brutal honesty. I talk, you listen.”
