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“That last one was … oof.”
Cassandra buckles her seat belt as I crank the heat up in my truck, rubbing my gloved hands together before I place one on her thigh. Easing into reverse, I roll down the driveway of a fixer-upper we just finished seeing with our realtor.
“Yeah, it needs way too much work. I know how good you are at house remodeling, but this was too much,” I agree with her.
She slumps back against the seat and sighs. “It feels like we’ll never find the one we’re looking for.”
Since we got engaged three weeks ago, we started the process of finding a house together, albeit with little luck. Yes, we have to get out of the guesthouse for both of our sanities, but it hasn’t been an easy search. Cassandra wants something we can make our own, which isn’t hard in an area like Hope Crest that has so many pre-war colonials and farmhouses. But the homes that are available, or the ones we’ve seen at least, are just in too poor of shape. Either that, or they are too far out of town, have structural issues, or Cassandra can’t see us in that particular home.
“We will, you know we will.” I squeeze her leg as I swing us back toward town.
We have one more showing today, and I’m hoping maybe it will be the perfect place. Part of me thinks Cassandra is being too picky, but then again, she’s the one who knows about real estate and is fronting most of the money for our home, so I guess I can’t argue.
“You think I’m being too picky,” she states as if she can read my brain. Sometimes, I think she can.
“Why do you always know what I’m thinking?” I huff out a laugh. “And it’s not that, it’s just, well, I’d live in a paper box with you. You know that. And we can gut a place to make it however you want.”
A stubborn expression comes over her face. “I know that. It’s mostly the vibe, which I know makes me sound crazy and ridiculous. But none of these homes have given me the feel that I want for our forever home. Because once we make this move, this will be our home. The place we grow old together, where we raise our kids. Our kids kids will play in the yard there. I don’t know, I just need thatfeeling.”
“And this is why I love you.” I blink a glance over to her as I pass the turn for my parent’s land.
The last house we’re seeing is about five minutes from my family farm, so it checks the box in terms of the area.
Part of me is glad we’ve been occupied with this house search for three weeks because it keeps Cassandra’s attention away from the media shitstorm that happened after the shooting. Of course, they’re still running articles about her, calling the restaurant to get quotes, and harassing my family members in the market to try to get more of the story. Even though we laid it all out in the interview we did, the bloodsuckers want more.
Between Cassandra trying to drop off the Hollywood map, the holiday rush at the restaurant, the sale of Butch’s property to my parents, and the news of our engagement making its way around Hope Crest, it feels like we’re swamped. This time of year is always hectic, but it’s even more so this holiday season. Not that I mind; being swept up in the chaos with her is exactly what I signed on for.
My family didn’t know I was going to propose, but they’re thrilled to gain another daughter and sister. My mom and Alana have already inundated Cassandra with bridal magazines, venue ideas, and a bachelorette party my sister definitely doesn’t realize my future wife doesn’t want.
All in all, though, we’re over the moon. Spending every day with her, without the fear of her safety being questioned, knowing she’s going to stay in the town I love so much … hell, it’s my dream come true. I’ve gotten down on one knee three times, but I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like until I knelt in front of her.
“Which is why you asked me to marry you,” Cassandra singsongs, admiring her ring for the thousandth time since I gave it to her.
“Liam asked me if I thought this was all too quick.” I chuckle under my breath.
She laughs along with me because we’ve discussed how people would think we were rushing into an engagement. But to us, it feels like we’ve taken a lifetime to get here. Sure, the town is whispering about another one of my proposals. They wonder if I’ll actually make it down the aisle this time. I will. There is no part of me unsure, not like the times before.
“Of course, it is. But who the hell wants to wait when they’ve found the love of their life?” Cassandra palms my cheek.
“My thoughts exactly. Now if only you’d be this decisive with picking a house,” I taunt her.
I turn the truck down a rocky lane, trees obscuring whatever land lies beyond the cluster of forest. Immediately, I can see myself riding the quad through it, with Cassandra at my back, the summer wind flying through her hair.
“What if we just get married?” She turns to me as if the question isn’t completely out of left field.
“Well, yes, that’s why I asked you.” I chuckle confusedly as we bounce down the rocky lane.
“No, I mean, let’s do it. Now. Or in a couple of days, because we have to wait for the certificate, right? I’m not sure, I’ve never gotten married or gone through the process, but I guess we’d have to go through city hall, so—”
“Wait, you want to get married … now?” The double take I do almost veers us off course, but then I see the steeples of a roof come into view.
Surprisingly, I feel zero surprise or unease about that. In fact, it feels like the exact right move for us.
“Why not? I don’t want a big thing, nothing that the press can crash or people can steal photos from as if this isn’t my private life. The only thing I want is to be married to you. I’ll get a white sweater, you can wear jeans, we could do it at the restaurant for all I care. And we know your track record, I want to lock you down before you bolt,” she teases me.
“Not funny.” I point a finger her way.
Cassandra rolls her eyes in a way that has me wanting to drive home instead of going to tour this house with our realtor. My future wife is in need of a good spanking.
