It's beautiful in an understated way. Two stories, wraparound porch, large windows that let in natural light. The kind of house that feels like home before you even walk inside.
Dom gets out of the truck slowly, studying every detail.
"This is incredible work, Nate. Really incredible."
"Porch still needs finishing," I say, grabbing my tools from the truck bed. "Steps need sanding. Render needs another coat."
“Does she know you built her house too?” He says with a smirk, grabbing the ladder.
"No."
"Why not?"
I set my tools down, lean against the porch railing.
"Because telling her feels like I'm trying to force a choice. And she's got enough of those to make already."
Dom picks up sandpaper, runs his hand along the steps that need smoothing.
"So you built her a house without telling her."
"Built us a house," I correct. "But yeah."
"That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard or the most terrifying."
"Probably both." I laugh.
"How long’s it been?” He asks after a while.
“How long since what?”
“Since you knew you were in love with her.”
“I’ve known forever that there wouldn’t be someone else like her. I think seven year old me knew that.”
"Wow."
I begin sanding the opposite end of the porch.
“Where is she now then?”
"She went back to LA," I say. "To her life there."
"And?"
"And I don't know if she's coming back."
"Do you want her to?"
"I built her the house she's talked about ever since she was a kid.”
"Then maybe you should tell her that." Dom moves to the next step. "Or better yet, show her that you've been building a future that includes her because you can't imagine one that doesn't."
We work in silence for a while.
Dom's got good hands—steady, practiced, the kind that know how to build things that last.
We fall into an easy rhythm, him sanding while I apply the render, both of us focused on making something better. We work until the sun starts dipping low, painting everything golden.
