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The exterior siding is painted a cobblestone gray, with new windows, shutters and window boxes all trimmed in white. I take another moment to admire the navy blue craftsman-style door, and I’m loving how the big full hydrangeas are blooming purple against this beautiful new home.
I’ve tried to call it home,my home, but those words are like a pair of shoes that are my size but still don’t fit.
But it’s no matter. Every new home deserves a housewarming, a before and after big reveal, a coming out party.
Walking around to the back, I straighten the cushions on the new patio furniture, plug the string lights in and cue up a playlist for the speakers. Lately I find myself veering towards somber songs about lost loves. Story of my life, I suppose.
This one is about a boy who still pines for a girl after breaking her heart back when they were seventeen. Mistakes and missed opportunities.
I make a mental note to play more upbeat tunes during the party, but as the song plays out it’s final chorus with the lyrics repeatingI miss you, I can’t help but think of Owen.
He’s pretty much always on my mind. He did what I asked, gave me time and gave me space. I haven’t heard from him in over a month and it serves me right.
What did I expect? That a kind-hearted, good-looking man like him would wait around until I got my shit together? That he wouldn’t have women beating a path to his door? He works on a college campus. I’m sure he’s got a whole line of graduate assistants looking to scoop him up like Jack’s little protégédid.
No, I can’t go there now.
I walk inside, pour myself a glass of wine and then come back to enjoy the warm September air as I write out a shopping list for tomorrow.
“Damn.” I hear a car pull into the driveway and raise up a silent prayer that one of my guests didn’t get the date wrong. My money is on Garth.
Letting out a frustrated breath, I drag myself out of my comfy chair to see who’s guilty of crashing a day early. But I only make it two steps before he turns the corner and stops to stand before me.
And I know these past few months have changed me because I’m no longer able to paste on that convincing smile. I’m basically incapable of faking it nowadays.
So when Owen pulls a small bouquet of the most perfect orange roses out from behind his back, I can’t help but cry when I try to speak.
“Hey, shh, don’t cry. I’m sorry for just dropping in like this.”
I shake my head so that he knows I’m not upset, so he knows that I want him here.
“I—I want you here, Owen.”
He lets out a breath. “Thank God. I thought you were just about to send me packing.”
I wipe at my watery eyes, embarrassed. “I’m such a disaster. It’s just that I was sitting here thinking about you and it’s like, my God, here you are.”
“I really shouldn’t have shown up without calling first, but I had to see you.” He puts the flowers down and waits until I look him in the eye. “Grace, I have to know if I have a shot here. I don’t want to wait forever.” He adds quietly, “I won’t.”
“If you’ll have me, then I’d say you have more than a shot.”
He nods, looking down to the ground. “You know how hard it was staying away these past few months?”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I wasn’t lying when I told you I needed time.”
“No, I get that, I do, but every day we were apart just felt empty.”
He’s the one who’s taken all the risks so far, so I move closer and take his hands in mine. “I don’t need any more time. I know what I want.”
“I kept telling myself I was crazy, you know? Kept telling myself that I hardly know you, but that’s not how it feels.”
And I understand because I feel the same way. “I think you know me better than anyone, Owen.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t, but I want to.”
“Come.” I gesture for him to follow when I walk inside.
“It looks so different in here.”
