Chapter 29
It had been months since that night at the diner, and they’d weathered a lot since then.
Peace was there to stay for a while. Taylor stood barefoot in the foyer, one hand on her back, the other resting protectively on her belly.
Eight months pregnant, and she still hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around the fact that this house, the one with her name on the mailbox and their dreams in every corner, was theirs.
A cardboard box slipped from Taylor’s grip, landing softly on the hardwood floor of their new home.
“Baby clothes,” she said with a little laugh. “My mom’s been wild since we told her about the baby.”
Brooks shook his head as he stepped through the door from the garage, arms full with another box labeled 'Kitchen' his white tee stretched across broad shoulders, sweat beading at his temple. “Already spoiling my kid and they ain’t even here,” he muttered with a grin.
Taylor raised a brow and turned slightly toward him.
“Your kid?” She asked, lips twitching. “Pretty sure I’m the one doing the growing.”
“Yeah, well, I planted the seed, so I get a say so,” he said, setting the box down with a grunt. “And I say that’s the last box you’re touching today.”
“I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“Same thing right now,” he muttered, already walking over, hands sliding gently to her waist. He brushed a curl away from her forehead and kissed the spot tenderly. “Doctor Chen said rest. And you? You’ve been being hard-headed since day one.”
She didn’t argue. Not when he was looking at her like that. Not when he’d built this home, every inch of it, with her in mind.
He guided her to the plush window seat overlooking the backyard.
The yard was freshly landscaped: soft green sod, neatly trimmed hedges, and a wooden swing hung from the old oak tree.
She hadn’t even asked for the swing. But it was already in her head, the backdrop for birthdays, chalk art on the patio, laughter echoing off the back deck.
She huffed but let him help her sit, shifting her belly and settling in. The view from there was perfect. Oversized, black-framed windows stretched floor to ceiling, spilling natural light across the polished floors.
The house was everything, sharp modern lines, deep charcoal trim, cream brick and wood accents, double-height ceilings, spiral staircase, open layout, three car garage, and a sleek chef’s kitchen with a twelve-foot island that had already become the heart of the home.
Six bedrooms, three full bathrooms, the walk-in closet he built for her, held velvet drawers, soft lighting, space carved out for the woman she’d become and was still becoming.
The nursery down the hall was already painted a soft gray.
They’d decided not to find out the baby’s sex.
That part didn’t matter. Not to them. All they wanted was a healthy and happy baby.
Taylor leaned back, hand resting on the curve of her belly. “This house feels like a fresh start,” she said, her voice low, reverent.
Brooks sat on the edge of the window bench near her feet, reaching for one. “That’s what I wanted,” he said, rubbing slow circles into her ankle. “A place that felt like peace. Felt like you.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “You really did it. I was so scared to let go of my house, Brooks. That space meant everything to me.”
“And now it’s gonna mean everything to that newlywed couple you rented it to.” He glanced up at her with a soft smirk. “You paying it forward.”
She chuckled. “You think they’ll be happy there?”
“They better be. That house been blessed with your energy, peaceful, soft, stubborn... little bougie.”
She smacked him with a pillow, but the laugh that escaped was warm and wide. “Shut up.”
“You made a home for yourself back then. I respect that,” he said. “But now, you don’t have to do it alone. We get to build together.”
Taylor looked around again, this time seeing more than walls and design choices. She saw baby shoes at the front door. Birthday balloons tied to the fence. Matching Christmas pajamas. Burnt Thanksgiving sides. Morning coffee with her robe slipping down one shoulder.
“We’re throwing the biggest first birthday right out there,” she said, pointing to the custom patio space. “Bounce house, grilled food, cute-ass balloon arches, matching outfits... DJ in the corner.”
“That’s why I had the outdoor sound system and extra parking added.” Brooks grinned. “Keep playin’, this gon’ be the house everybody comes to.”
She smiled at him, deeply. “You really went all in for us.”
She’d built a life on standing alone, even when she had Tyree around. He had never been active participant in their future. Brooks never hesitated to see a need and handle it. He was proof that love didn’t have to swallow you to hold you. That she could keep her fire and still let someone in.
“I did,” he said. Then he paused, looking at her belly, then back at her. “Taylor... you wanna marry me?”
She blinked. “Brooks.”
“Not today,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... think about it for me. I know it ain’t even been a long time, but I want you to know I’m serious about this. I want you to have my last name.”
She stared at him, lips parting, eyes wide and wet. “You tryna marry me because I’m pregnant?”
He scoffed. “No. I’m tryna marry you because I love you. Because when I look at this house, and you in it, feet up and full of baby, it feels like the ending and beginning of every prayer I ain’t even say out loud.”
Taylor sucked in a breath, one hand clutching her chest. “If I wasn’t already pregnant, I’d say that’s what you were tryna do.”
“I just want you to know where I stand. This ain’t temporary. This ain’t a placeholder. You’re it for me. Always have been.”
She smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. “Ask me again when I’m not bloated and wearing maternity clothing with no bra on.”
He chuckled. “Bet. ”
He looked around the home they now shared, hands sliding protectively over her belly. “Forever starts here, my love.”
Taylor nodded; she was exactly where she was supposed to be. This wasn't her first try at happiness. But it felt like her first time choosing it on purpose.
Outside, a dog barked in the distance. The world kept moving, but in here, with her foot in Brooks’ hand, his thumb moving in slow, gentle circles across her swollen skin, time stood still. Home was him. Home was them.