Page 114 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

My brow furrowed. “The one what?”

“The house. Check your messages.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and tapped into my texts. There it was—a link to a real estate listing. I clicked it, and the moment the picture loaded, I gasped.

“No way,” I breathed.

“What?” Kannon asked, amused. “You don’t like it?”

“I know this house,” I said, my voice filled with disbelief. “I used to ride my bike past it all the time when I was a kid. I’d stop and just stare at it, wishing it could be mine. I can’t believe it’s still there.”

The house was even more beautiful than I remembered. It was blue with white shutters, just like I’d always loved, and the wraparound porch was framed by a massive willow tree. Wisteria climbed one side, its purple and green blooms trailing toward the roof. It was perfect.

“You love it?” Kannon asked, his voice softer now.

“I love it,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I can’t wait to see your face when we go check it out together.”

I smiled, my heart feeling too big for my chest. “I can’t wait either. But for now, I have to get through one more night here.”

“Just one more night,” he echoed. “And then we can start the rest of our lives.”

“Deal,” I whispered.

“See you tomorrow night for our date,” he said.

“I can’t wait. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Goodnight, Kannon.”

“Goodnight, Merritt.”

I hung up and stared at the picture of the house for a moment longer before putting the phone down. It felt like everything was finally falling into place. We had talked about buying a house together, but it was all happening fast. That wasn’t a bad thing. I was thrilled with the idea. It was what I wanted. We were moving forward. Both of us were starting new chapters together.

Our chapter.

45

KANNON

Valentine’s Day wasn’t supposed to matter to a guy like me. Cards and candy? Not my style. But when it came to Merritt, everything felt different. Bigger. Real. And after the whirlwind she’d been through—packing up her entire life in Miami, saying goodbye to her friends, returning her Cadillac—I knew she needed a night out.

I wanted to be the cheesy boyfriend that gave her all the goofy Valentine’s things. I wanted to take her out to an expensive restaurant decorated with red hearts and lots of candles. I had everything planned down to the last detail.

The restaurant I chose was known for its romantic ambience and exceptional French cuisine. I booked the best table, one secluded by draped curtains with a view of the city lights. I wanted to show her I could be like her city boys when necessary. I could spoil her rotten and treat her to a fancy night out.

I checked the time and realized it was almost time to go pick her up. We were doing this right. I wasn’t taking the bike. Not tonight. I had a pickup, but I rarely drove it except for work. I had spent the day detailing it and getting it ready for tonight.

I stepped in front of the mirror and took my time tying my tie, adjusting it just so. The black silk felt smooth under my fingers—a stark contrast to the usually rough work clothes I wore at construction sites. Tonight, I was a different version of myself: cleaner, sharper, someone who could seamlessly step into the polished shoes of Merritt’s world without missing a beat.

I grabbed my jacket from the back of a chair, slipping into it while checking for my wallet and the small velvet box hidden in the inner pocket. My girl was going to feel like the most special lady in the world. I grabbed my keys and the bouquet of roses and headed out the door.

On the drive to her dad’s house, I had more time to think. We would soon be living in a house together. I hoped it would be the one she loved, but even if it wasn’t, I knew there was still a future for us. We were going to go to bed every night together and wake up together. I wanted to build a life with her. I wanted to create our own little nest with her. A home that was ours.

When I got to the house, I knocked and waited.