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“Lauren pays you that much?” I’d always thought my sister was a little reserved with her employee compensation.
“Lauren pays me fairly, within industry standards.”
“Fair enough to buy a two-million-dollar-plus home?” I might need to ask my sister for a raise.
His face darkened. “I have money from my parents.”
“Oh.” I reached out and touched his shoulder. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you upset.”
“You didn’t. I guess we’ve never really talked about it. We’ve sort of had a lot of other stuff going on.” He held up the key. “William said we can go back in. The owners already relocated, so we’re not putting them out. Want to take another look?”
Another smile lit up his face, and I grinned back—his excitement was infectious.
“I’d love to.”
He held my hand as we went back inside, through the sunny foyer and into the open-concept living room and kitchen. “I love the fireplace,” Wes said, going over and running his hands over the marble. “I’ve always wanted one.”
“And that wall is great for a television,” I said, pointing to the opposite end of the room. Wes could watch every football game imaginable on an enormous flat-screen TV.
“You’re right, but I don’t want a television in every room. I want some quiet space, too—I know you love to read.”
My heart started racing. He was thinking about me and what I might like to do in his new house? “Huh?”
He looked at me sheepishly. “You need some space to read, right?”
“Y-yeah. That’s really nice of you to think of me. But it’s going to be your house. You can do whatever you want with it.”
Wes blew out a deep breath and looked around the room. “But I don’t want a house.”
“Huh?” I asked again, confused. “Then what are we doing here?”
“I want a home.” Wes looked at me, and my heart stopped. “And it would only be a home if you lived here, too.”
About to say “huh” for the third time, I forced my mouth shut.
Wes came over and tentatively reached for my hand. “I don’t want to pressure you. But…I don’t really need a five-bedroom house for just me and all my football trophies and weights.”
“You—you don’t?”
He arched an eyebrow. “No, I don’t.”
I bit my lip. “Wes?”
“Yes, baby?”
“What exactly are you asking me?” My voice came out small.
He laughed a little and laced his fingers through mine. “I’m asking you if—once we’re both back to normal and feeling settled and ready—you’d like to live here with me. If you would like my home to be your home—our home. I want us to live here together forever, or at least until we have so many kids we need a bigger house.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
Wes looked worried. “Honey? Am I totally stressing you out? Are you having trouble breathing?”
I started crying.
“Oh shit,” he said, clearly panicked. “Do you want to sit down?”
“N-no.” My chest was heaving. “Do you mean it? You want to buy this house for us?”
