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I followed the realtor through the rooms. The intricate vintage detailing throughout held few similarities to the modern townhomes we’d been touring. Although everything had been redone, this house still held most of its original charm: rich hardwood floors throughout, archways between rooms, and wood molding.
“What do you think?” I tried to gauge Charlie’s reaction.
“It’s stunning,” she said, eyes wide looking up at the detail on the ceiling. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Yes, it does.” I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her waist.
She had been hesitant to go house hunting with me, saying it wasn’t any of her business. But I had insisted it was.
In the days since I had acted like an utter prick at the market, I’d tried my best to make it up to her by doing anything I could think of to prove to her that she matters to me.
Hell, she might be the only thing that matters to me.
“Well,” she continued. “I don’t think you can go wrong with any of the houses we’ve seen. They’re all amazing.”
“But which is your favorite,” I pressed.
Maybe it was unhinged to need the approval of a woman I had just started seeing, but I didn’t care. As someone who had been going through the phases of life in an emotionless haze for twenty-seven years, it felt good to feel something—to be excited about something. It felt even better knowing I wasn’t the only one excited. Every time I looked into her eyes, I knew she felt the same. We had been spending every night together and sneaking text messages at work like two teenagers in love. Well, I guess for me that analogy wasn’t far off since this was definitely my first love.
Shit. Did that thought really just cross my mind?I wasn’t playing this even the least bit cool.
“I mean if you’re seriously asking which is my favorite, I guess I’d have to go with this one,” she finally admitted. “It has so much character, and it already feels homey.”
“Denise,” I called.
My realtor reentered the room. “Yes?”
“Can you write up an offer? I’m fine to go over asking if necessary.”
“Right away,” she said, pulling out her phone and typing. “I’ll send you the offer when it’s ready to sign.”
Charlie gawked at me before slapping me lightly in the chest. “You can’t go making offers willy-nilly like that.”
“Why not?” I asked with a smirk.
“That’s way too much pressure on my opinion.”
“But you do like it, right?”
“I mean I love it but—”
“Good. That’s all I need to know.”
She huffed. “You’re impossible. You should be making this decision by yourself.”
“What if I just really value your taste?”
“Oh well, if that’s all it is.” Rolling her eyes, she nestled into my chest. I was completely screwed.
I dipped my head to kiss her.
People in love always used to annoy me, but now I understood. I would never get sick of this.
“How did Oliver take the news that you’re moving out?” she asked when we pulled apart.
“Fine,” I muttered. The animosity between us had subsided, and we had returned to a silent state of coexistence. It wouldn't be long before we reverted to our former pattern of treating each other as strangers and meeting solely out of familial obligation.
“He’s not disappointed?” she asked.
