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When we pull up to the white one-story home it’s exactly how I remember. White painted siding, dark blue shutters, and a neat iron fence surrounding the yard.
James parks in front of the house, and I make sure I’m the first one on the sidewalk leading to their front door. I may feel overwhelmed, but I’ll be damned if I let my brother knock on the door.
My pulse is embarrassingly high when I tap my knuckles against the wood surface. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve seen Beckett, and the stress of missing him is starting to show in my nerves. He hadn’t planned on being in Chicago this whole time, but he said things kept popping up that he had to take care of. I’d say I understand, but I still don’t really know what he was doing down there. Something for work, I think.
We talked a few times, texted most days, but it was all brief. Too quick. And I need more. I need more Beckett.
My eyes nearly close, thinking of all the things I want to do to the man, when the door in front of me swings open.
The scent memory of this home hits me like a wave, and I’m suddenly thrown back 15 years. The sensation is so extreme I have to fight the desire to turn and run.
I’d been expecting Beckett to answer the door, but it’s not him.
“Hello, Dear!” Mrs. Stoleman pulls me in for a quick hug before holding me at arm’s length, beaming at me, “It’s so nice to have the families together again! This is going to be so much fun!”
“Hi, Mrs. Stoleman,” it’s impossible to not smile back. “Thanks so much for having us.”
She brushes off my thanks and I step aside, letting her run through a similar greeting for the rest of my family before corralling us inside.
Mrs. Stoleman tells us that her husband is out back by the grill, then she and my mom start chattering away. I don’t know how I was expecting Mrs. Stoleman to act, but I’m a little surprised she hasn’t made any comments about me dating Beckett. I guess she’s taking it all just as calmly as my parents did.
We’re halfway to the living room when my mom pats her old friend on the back, “It’s so nice of you to have us over.”
Mrs. Stoleman smiles at her, “Of course! When we heard you were in town, we knew we had to do it.”
Mom nods then decides to ditch subtly, “I mean, it was a bit of a surprise, but I’m glad you’re just as excited about Beckett and Elouise dating as we are.”
Mrs. Stoleman stumbles as we step into the large living room, “Um, what?”
The look on her face is a mix of shock and horror. Like she just heard the most horrible news.
Wait… did she not know about me and Beckett?
What does she think this is all about? Why wouldn’t Beckett tell her? Does he think it’ll be funny to tell her together, in person?
Mrs. Stoleman has stopped walking, “But…”
In a confused daze I walk past the pair of mothers, into the open living room.
Movement across the room catches my attention, and I turn toward it, prepared to ask Beckett what the hell he was thinking, except it’s not him. It’s someone else.
The figure rises from the couch, unfolding her long limbs, straightening her already perfect clothes.
We stare at each other for a long moment, the buzzing in my ears distracting me from the memory that’s trying to break through my psyche. Because she looks… familiar.
Her blonde hair is curled into smooth waves, and the smile on her face is gentle, but there’s a hardness in her eyes that I recognize.
But from where?
“Who are you?” My mom’s tone is borderline rude, but I have the same question.
The woman looks at Beckett’s mom, but she’s still rooted in place near the hallway.
Straightening her already rigid shoulders, the blonde steps closer, holding out a hand for me.
Taking it out of reflex, we’re palm to palm when she introduces herself.
“Hi, I’m Kira. Beckett’s wife.”
