43
BROOKE
He was right to think that I’d be impressed by the interior of his home.
Gone were the faux-wood attributes of his bachelor apartment. Instead, I walked in to see an open dining area with a gorgeous live-edge black walnut dining table surrounded by comfortable dining beige chairs. A large picture window allowed natural light to filter into the space. Hanging above the table was a modern-looking black matte light fixture.
Turned out grown-up Cade hadtaste.
The floors flowed through the space seamlessly, a light wide-plank hardwood. I wondered how much of the work he’d done himself. He seemed handy like that.
The kitchen had an island with a butcher block countertop, while the other counters were covered in a clean white quartz. The cabinets were painted a soft gray-blue.
Thick moldings throughout gave the space character.
There was a living space with a comfy gray couch. The whole place was just the right amount of stylish, mixed with cozy and homey.
Cade leaned against the kitchen island with his arms and ankles crossed and watched my reactions, a grin on his face.
I came up short when I entered his bedroom. The decor was simple—New England coastal, a mix of soft blues, whites, and beiges. What caught my gaze, though, was the artwork. An oil painting (or the print of one), a blur of yellows, blues, and whites that felt impressionistic but was still clearly a group of sunflowers.
“Really?”
I looked back at him, a grin splitting my face.
He leaned against the doorway, what Whit liked to call the “romance book boyfriend” pose.
This man.
He shrugged, but his eyes sparkled. “I like pretty things.”
In the month that followed,I made good on my promise to communicate with Cade. I texted him when I was thinking of him, and I called him when I needed to hear his voice or when I felt insecure and needed some reassurance.
“You know I can’t really be spontaneous.” Words tumbled through the phone one afternoon. “I never know how I’m going to be feeling. It makes making plans hard. Sometimes I schedule something and I’m excited to go, but then I have to cancel if I’m not feeling well enough.”
“I don’t need you to be spontaneous. I only need you to be you.”
“Yes, but?—”
He cut off my spiral.
“I’m not going into this blind, baby. I know you, almost as well as I know myself. Maybe better. And you know I liketaking care of you. Remember how Val says I have White Knight syndrome?”
I barked out a laugh.
“She’s not wrong,” I admitted.
“No, she rarely is. Don’t tell her that, though.”
“You guys still keep in touch, then?”
“Yeah we do. I check in with Blaze every now and then, too.”
He told me all about his job and his life in Vermont, and we caught up on the last three years we’d spent apart. I told him about Gloria, and Cheryl, both of whom I still had regular FaceTime calls with. I explained the progress I’d been making repairing my relationship with my mom. He told me about his search-and-rescue friends, the tough calls he’d endured, and the weekly game nights he had at Bryan and Nic’s.
Sometimes Whit and Ivy joined our FaceTime calls. Cade was endlessly patient as Ivy jabbered on about whatever princess was her current favorite (Jasmine, currently—“she has atiger,” Ivy explained to Cade in her adorable 4-year-old voice).
We talked more about our shared childhood memories, our favorite foods, where we longed to travel in the future. We discussed our greatest fears and our proudest accomplishments.
