Lake
LAKE
After that first dinner something seems to loosen inside me. Like some form of exposure therapy where the first time wasn’t that bad, so my brain seems to take it as permission to go for seconds.
I unmute the group chat Paige mentioned when she first introduced herself to me, so now my phone is annoying because it goes off all the time with messages from people I don’t even know.
But I don’t mute it again.
Instead, I join a study group. Somehow. Honestly, I’m still not a hundred percent sure how it happened. Somebody asked a question about the upcoming test, and I answered it. Five minutes later I’d agreed to join.
I’d be embarrassingly easy to lure into a cult.
Ryker found it hilarious when I was bitching about it to him.
We make an offer to Ryker’s parents for the house when his mom next comes to town. She protests immediately. The asking price drops ridiculously low. We protest in return. The rest of that dinner is like a comedy sketch where the seller keeps listing the flaws their property has, and the buyers are determined to talk the place up. It takes us three hours of negotiating to settle on a price. In the end, Genevive is not happy because she still thinks it’s too high, and Ryk’s not happy because he thinks it’s too low. So, pretty much how compromises always go, I suppose.
It takes a few weeks to deal with the mortgage and the paperwork, but once that’s done the last of the apprehension I had about the house disappears. Instead, there’s suddenly a calm feeling of belonging that takes over everything inside me.
It’s not even this specific house. We could’ve bought a hovel in bumfuck nowhere, and I would probably feel the same way. It’s what the house represents. It’s a physical representation of home. A physical representation of trust—something I haven’t been able to fully give to anybody until Ryker.
This is our place.
“It’ll take a lot of work to get it back in shape,” Ryker’s dad says.
Both he and Ryker’s mom flew in just to hand us the keys. I’ve never met Ryker’s dad before, I’ve only ever seen photos of him. Bennett James looks a lot like his son. An older version of Ryk. He’s dressed in slacks and a sport coat, and his salt-and-pepper hair is meticulously styled. He looks exactly how I’d expect a wealthy, successful person in his fifties to look. Maybe a touch more affable than could strictly be considered cool, but if nothing else, it makes him seem at least a little bit less intimidating.
He and Ryker’s mom are on good terms, which is weird to see. Divorced people who get along with each other. Admittedly, they clearly have less water under the bridge than my own parents did, but it’s still nice to see that people can break up and remain amicable with each other.
“It’s not too bad,” Ryker says. “And we have all the time in the world.”
“That backyard was always ridiculous. Look at this. Can’t even fit a pool in here,” Bennett says, but he manages to come off good-natured instead of arrogant. He probably has a whole mansion in California, so this place looks like ass in comparison.
“It’s New York City. We only have three months of summer.”
“Would be a nice addition. And it would raise the asking price when you sell.”
“We’re not going to sell,” Ryk says and glances at me with a private smile. “It’s our home.”
It’s such a simple statement that contains so much permanence.
It takes my breath away.
Bennett goes on about additions. Ryk comes and stands next to me. He throws his arm over my shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of my head. I lean against him.
“You look happy,” he murmurs.
I drop my head onto his shoulder. “Kind of am.”
“Only kind of?” he asks with a teasing note in his tone.
“It’s just… all good. And I believe it’s good.” I feel stupidly cryptic, but I can’t explain it any better.
Things are good, and I don’t waste the good waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I just am.
Right here and now.
“Can we build a deck?” I ask. “And maybe get some plants at some point?”
“Do you have a secret green thumb I don’t know about?”
“I doubt it. But I’m good at research, so I bet I could find something that’ll be difficult to kill.”
He chuckles softly. “This is your home. You can do whatever the fuck you want here.”
My heart is so full I have no idea how it even fits in my chest anymore. Genevive walks over, heels clicking on the scuffed floors.
“I feel like this occasion calls for champagne.” She pinches Ryker’s cheek. “My baby boy is all grown up.”
“We don’t have champagne,” Ryk says.
“Well, of course you don’t. We came prepared. Bennett?” Genevive says.
The man produces a bottle from a bag on the floor and four glasses. Actual glasses, not plastic ones.
The cork comes out with a pop , and Bennett pours the champagne.
Ryker raises his glass.
“To the future,” he says.
“The future,” I echo.
We all clink our glasses together and drink.
Ryker smiles at me, and I smile back.
And all I see everywhere are possibilities.