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I laugh and hug his neck. “What do you want to show me?”
“Give me a sec.” He scrolls through several bookmarks, then opens one titled Sullivan Listings.
I peer at the screen and see that the link is to a real estate website.
“Check this out,” he says eagerly.
A house…no that’s not the right word for the aerial shot of a mansion on sprawling greenery that backs onto the lake. It reads:At 8,500 square feet, this one-of-a-kind waterfront home offers a private oasis.
The blurb goes on to describe the five-bedroom contemporary design in flowery detail, highlighting the in-home theater and gym, tennis court, and two pools. It uses words like secluded and remote, claiming to have everything one could need contained in a single place. The write-up then ends with:This superb property has gated access and a state-of-the-art security system.
I extricate my arm from around Mick and slide my gaze to his. “You’ve been house hunting?”
“Browsing. This one caught my attention.”
“It sounds like a fortress.”
“I’d hardly call it that.” He frowns. “We’d be on the lake like we always talked about. And there’s plenty of space for a baby and the family we want.”
“There’s no rush. A baby just needs a bassinet in our room.”
“For a few months, maybe,” he counters. “Then what?”
“We’ll figure it out. I don’t want to move yet. I love our house. I thought you did too.”
“I do. But we need more.”
“More security, you mean?”
“There’s that,” he allows. “We’re far too exposed and accessible. The shooting proved that.”
I would never want to diminish the trauma he went through. Because I have no recollection of the incident, that gives me a different perspective and gentles my approach. “A terrible thing happened, Mick. I understand that’s fresh in your mind. Just as I understand your need to protect us. I don’t discount any of that. Nor do I want us to live in fear or behind a gated wall.”
“Taking precautions is not living in fear. It’s keeping you and the baby safe from potential dangers.”
“Taking precautions is fair,” I concede. “But that house doesn’t feel like us. It’s too much, it’s too um…rich.”
“We are rich.”
“But we don’t live like that.”
“Then we can find another house.”
“Or…”
“Or what?” His gaze narrows.
“We could stay here and build a second floor with the bedrooms upstairs. Even add a split level with a great room or big play area,” I add, growing increasingly keen on the idea. “Jord can draw up some plans and you can consult with Stiles on how to better secure our property without it feeling like we’re behind a wall.”
“Humph.” He makes a scoffing noise. “I’m not hearing much of the 50/50 compromise you’re always pushing for.”
“This is a compromise,” I say sweetly. “We try it this way first and if we can’t find a solution that works for both of us, then we’ll look for a house that we can agree on.”
“You realize, we’d have to move while the house is under renovation.”
“Right, so we hold off on selling the condo.”
“You hate the condo,” he balks.
