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I slide the door closed, saying good-bye to this chapter of our life, ready for the next part of our story.
* * *
“I have them in bed,”Devin says as a greeting. By the time we packed and cleaned, and stopped to get a bite to eat, it is well after nine p.m. “So, I just have to ask,” he drawls sitting on our new camel brown leather sectional. “Were we being punished by spending the day with Liam and Tia?” Oh, they drive our kids crazy too.
He walks by us, giving hugs to Noah and me. He’s an affectionate kid. And in just three months, he understands the security he has in us. “I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you for the life you’re giving us.” He turns around, in a full circle. “I loved the loft. It was bad ass, but this place feels like home.”
He disappears up the steps. Noah pulls at the waistband of my track pants, “Wanna share a bottle of wine with me? Or would you rather have a beer?”
I think on that for a second. Wine is my go to, but beer sounds refreshing. “You have that milk stout we love?”
His grin tells me what I need to know. “Oh, is that even a question?”
I watch him in our space. Our new space. We’ve been moving things over a little bit at a time. Most of our shit is put away, but we still have a couple boxes out.
The house is open as soon as you walk in the front door, with a small entryway to our living room, and black wrought iron steps leading upstairs. Four bedrooms and three baths are on this level, along with open space for a gaming center and some of Lainey’s toys. The kids have almost everything they need on the second floor.
But what I love is when you enter our house, besides the open kitchen, white walls, and the beautiful bronze light fixtures, is the line of sight out to our yard and the cement patio. There’s a hidden walkway to a second-floor detached apartment. It’ll be our studio for now, using the open living room for Noah and me. Devin can use the only bedroom in the space for his paintings.
Noah moves around in the kitchen effortlessly, making a quick fruit and cheese plate. The cabinets are a whitish gray, with marble countertops with deep gray veining. The large island, which can sit six people, is between the kitchen and our dining room table. And our bedroom is nestled behind the kitchen and under the steps.
Like his loft, we want to keep our home minimalistic, but we have more walls in this house and want to display our art. The piece I painted of Noah and me at the Science Center is already framed and hanging on the wall nearest our entryway. The first sketch Noah ever drew of me from our first date is showcased in the hallway leading to our bedroom.
He returns with our drinks and snacks, hitting buttons on his phone, as light music starts to play through the downstairs.
“Hey you.” He brings his body next to mine, nuzzling into my neck. “Welcome home.”
Home. “This is our home, right? I’m not dreaming?”
“Nah, if you were dreaming, I couldn’t do this.” His mouth covers mine, as he begins to kiss me with passion and fervent desire. His hands are gentle, rubbing my back in large circles. We break the kiss at the same time.
“Then I guess this is all very real.”
“It is.” His bright smile is indication that he’s as happy as I am. “Hey, let me ask you a question, if you don’t mind?”
I adjust my position, opening up my body toward his. “I promised to spend my whole life with you, ask me anything, babe,” I order.
“We have passion for our art. We love creating, but have you given any thought to something you want to do on top of painting? It’s a full-time job, but sometimes I feel like I want to share more of my passion with people who are like-minded. Am I making sense? I don’t feel like I’m making sense.”
Placing my hand over his, I begin to speak. “I know exactly what you mean. I was looking online at art programs for Devin, but found a teacher’s position at a private college not far from here. And they’re looking for someone with an education background to teach a couple classes on watercolors.”
He finishes his beer but doesn’t stand to grab another one. He’s staring at me. “Are you serious? That would be great. I mean, really fucking great.”
“I’d not be held to large restrictions in my curriculum, like I would as an art teacher in high school.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“What about you? You obviously have an idea, since you brought this up?” I ask. He closes his eyes and looks away. “Unless you say you want to be a male escort, I can’t think of anything I won’t support.”
He suppresses a laugh. “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, but I’d like to open an art gallery, or go in with Kate, maybe connecting two studios, or a partnership. I love the behind the scenes stuff, creating a home for an artist’s cherished piece, and providing them a fair price.”
As much as Noah hates the public, I can see him in this one role. “Well, what are you waiting on then?” I challenge.
“Nothing, now that I have your support.”
This is our life now. And I can’t wait to live every day with both my husband and our kids.
* * *
