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Getting our license turned out to be just filling out some paperwork, and we were done within fifteen minutes. We were beginning to feel easier with each other, and beyond the fact that Otto seemed to be continuously looking over his shoulder, it went as well as could’ve been expected. It was wild seeing his name next to mine on the forms, and I had to fight the feeling of unreality that had been dogging my steps for the past day. It was real. We were getting married. God help us.
Afterward, he was true to his word, and we stopped by a restaurant to grab some food to go—a hamburger and fries for him and a BLT and salad for me. As we drove out to his house, not far from his parents’ place, I noticed happily, my nerves started humming again.
I braced myself for some bachelor pad with barely any furniture and an empty fridge, promising myself that I wouldn’t react badly no matter what we found. He hadn’t been planning for a wife. It wasn’t as if he would’ve had time to spruce the placeup for me. When we pulled down the driveway, though, I was pleasantly surprised.
He lived in a farmhouse out in the woods. The property was clean, the paint looked new, and there were bushes planted outside on each side of the front steps.
“Home sweet home,” he said, glancing at me as he put the car in park.
“It’s beautiful,” I replied, looking out the windshield. The porch out front was wide and deep, and I could imagine a porch swing out there someday, with a couple of pillows and a few potted plants.
I didn’t wait for Otto to get my door, even though he’d been opening it for me all morning, but I was too busy admiring his house to pay attention to his scowl. The garage was a separate building painted to match the house, and the gravel that crunched under our feet was thick, like it hadn’t been there long enough to spread out.
“I don’t wear shoes in the house,” he explained, opening the front door. He was carrying our bag of food in one hand but held up the other to stop me before I’d stepped inside. “Wait here.”
I froze just outside, thankful for the roof of the porch that kept me from getting soaked by the rain. A few seconds later, he was back, his hands empty and his shoes off.
“Tradition,” he explained, reaching for me. I let out a startledwoopand struggled to keep our drinks level as he picked me up off my feet and carried me inside.
“I thought that was after you got married,” I said as he set me back down inside.
“I’ll do it again, then,” he replied easily, taking the drinks so I could slide my boots off.
His house wasn’t anything like I’d imagined. There weren’t any tchotchkes or extra décor, but the place felt warm and inviting anyway. The couch was soft brown leather and a dark-green worn but clean recliner sat perpendicular to it, both facing a television that was mounted on the wall above what looked like a working fireplace.
“Livin’ room,” Otto said, opening his arms out wide. He walked backward, his eyes on mine as I followed him. “Kitchen.”
I looked around the room. The appliances weren’t new, nothing in the kitchen was—but the bare countertops were immaculately clean. The front of the fridge had a couple of photos held up by magnets, one that I recognized of Rhett—but before I could move closer, Otto was setting down our drinks on an old dining room table and throwing open a door.
“Basement,” he announced. He shook his head when I stepped forward. “You don’t wanna go down there. It’s empty except for the furnace and some shelves built in. I think that’s where they stored most of their canned food—there’s no pantry up here.”
“I’m good at canning,” I said, looking briefly over his shoulder into the darkness.
“I haven’t ever bought enough that it didn’t fit in the cupboards up here,” he said, jerking his head toward the rest of the kitchen. “But if you wanna fill the basement, have at it. I’ll make sure the shelves are sound first.”
“Sounds good.” I smiled and looked at the photos on the wall. They were a mixture of different people, candid shots mostly, and I recognized Otto in a couple of them.
I walked slowly around the kitchen, running my hand over the counter, looking at the big white sink, glancing out the window at the trees behind the house. It was better than I had imagined. I would’ve lived anywhere with him. That’s what I was signing up for, after all. A trailer in a park, an apartment, a room in his parents’ house—any place. But I could actually picture myself in that kitchen, making dinner as Otto got home from work, frying eggs for breakfast while little legs swung backand forth from one of the dining room chairs, canning jam on a summer afternoon while the sun came through the window, lighting the entire room.
“You’re quiet,” Otto said, coming up behind me. His hand slid around my waist and settled on my belly.
“I love your house,” I replied honestly.
“Yeah?”
“It’s like—” I shook my head and laughed. “A painting,” I finished dumbly. I wasn’t sure how to describe what I saw around us.
“My gram said it’s a place to raise a family in,” he mused, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck.
I shivered.
“Come on,” he said, leaning back up. “Let me show you the rest of the house, and then I’ll feed you.”
“There’s more?” I joked happily, making him smile.
“Bedrooms,” he replied with mock excitement. “Three of them.”
“Holy cow!” I followed him, playing into the joke. “Three whole bedrooms?”
