Chapter 5
“It’s just here,” Zach says, rolling his truck into the driveway.
“Wow.” I lean forward, peering through the windshield, taking in the sleek, modern home. With black siding, matching shutters, and a perfectly manicured lawn, it looks like it belongs in an architectural magazine.
“This?” I say, pointing at the house. “This Is where you live?”
“All mine,” he replies, pride radiating from his voice.
I scoff.
“What’s wrong?” he asks with a frown. “Don’t you like it?”
“No. No. It’s not that. It’s beautiful.” And so perfectly him. It’s ambitious, impressive and a little showy. “It’s just so… flashy.” I pitch my voice playfully and rest my hand on his knee. “It looks like someone rich lives here.”
He raises a brow, feigning offense. “And where exactly did you think I'd live?”
“I don't know.” I shrug, trying to process what I'm seeing. “I guess I thought you'd pick something a little less modern with a big white porch, not this mansion.” I gesture to the imposing building. “My dad would love it.”
He barks out a laugh. “Good. That’ll work in my favor when we tell him we’re getting married.”
I roll my eyes, smacking him on the chest. “Oh, please. No house is going to make my father happy that I went against his wishes even if the whole place looks like it judges you on arrival.”
I’m quiet for a second at the mention of the man I’ve barely spoken to since I started at St. Michael’s last year.
Once he realized Zach wasn’t a phase and that I wasn’t interested in getting back together with Jamie, he backed off.
As if I’d ever want to marry someone who cheated on me and had a baby with Tiff.
It’s not like I’ve tried to stay in contact with him, either. Frankly, I don’t have anything else to say. How can I continue a relationship with a man who is trying to destroy Zach’s cousin?
Zach sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“I know. It gives off villain vibes, doesn't it? There wasn't much choice in Hope unfortunately. I needed something walking distance from the stadium and campus with at least four bedrooms that hasn’t been used as a frat house before. Not to mention I needed one of the bedrooms to be on the opposite side of the house.”
“So you won't be disturbed by Ella?” I ask, knowing the main reason he wanted so many rooms is because he plans on having his cousin Tiff, and her four-year-old daughter Ella, move here. Not sure I can really imagine a kid playing on this lawn, but maybe the back is more kid-friendly.
Zach smirks, leans in close, and cups my cheek before brushing his lips against mine. “No, Honeycomb. So we could make as much noise as we want without disturbing them.”
Heat floods my face as he places a kiss on my lips. I push him away, whacking him lightly on the chest. “You're impossible.”
“Impossibly in love with you,” he counters, opening his car door and quickly making his way around so he can open mine.
He bows, offering his hand to me. “Miss Sanderson, are you ready for your tour of Casa Evans?”
I place my hand in his, trying to ignore the flutter of nervousness in my stomach as he leads me to the large, black and glass door.
This is it.
This isn’t just a little tour where he brags about a fireplace. This is Zach’s plea for me to move in, and I’m finding it increasingly hard to resist when I think about how inhospitable my current living arrangements are.
Honey Sanderson. Pick Me.
“Are you ready?” he asks, taking a steadying breath.
“Of course. I can’t wait.”
He unlocks the steel door, revealing a large foyer with dark wooden floors and a sleek light fixture above.
I draw in a sharp breath.
I knew it. I knew this was a bad idea.
“So, this is the entry,” he says, gesturing to the pristine white walls. “It’s a little empty right now, but I figured we could wait and pick out some pictures together. Maybe of us with Tiff and Ella.”
I stay quiet, smiling as I take in the place.
It’s perfect. That’s all I can say.
And it’s so Zach.
Only two short years ago, he was wearing unbranded sneakers at our prep school. Now he’s bought the fanciest house in Hope, Indiana. All because of his drive and determination. His ambition makes my indecision about a major feel like a bad joke.
“If you don’t want it to be so personal in the hallway, then we can go to that art gallery we walked past last semester and pick out a couple of those black and white paintings you liked.”
Of course he remembers. Zach notices everything about me, which makes it increasingly difficult to want to be away from him.
He guides me into the next room, and I gasp when I see the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is the living room,” he announces with a sweep of his arm.
“Sixty-five-inch TV, surround sound system, and check this out.” He picks up a remote and presses a button.
The electric fireplace flickers to life, casting a warm glow across the room. “For those cold Indiana nights.”
“It’s pretty fancy, Evans,” I say teasingly.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a girl who’s used to expensive things,” he mumbles, and I can’t deny it sends a small thrill up my spine to hear that.
He wants this for us. I want that too… I just wish the timing wasn’t such a cosmic joke.
I wish we were older and out of college.
Then we’d be somewhere people don’t treat our relationship like a group project they all get a say in, but wishing for that is a slippery slope.
It leads straight to the thing I try not to think about.
Barring any injury, Zach is going to the NFL, and he will be drafted high. If he plays the way I know he can, this… spotlight will be his life.
It would be ours.
And I can’t stop asking myself the question I’m terrified to answer—can I handle that forever?
What if being with him here means losing more of me?
“Wait till you see the kitchen.” He takes my hand, leading me through the open-concept space.
The beautiful, white kitchen, sparkles with granite countertops, and a massive island with bar seating.
“I had them put in double ovens,” he tells me, opening one to show me.
“So we can have big family dinners on Sunday. Might even give you space to bake those awesome double chocolate cookies you made for our six-month anniversary. I still dream about them.” He opens a cabinet.
“I even got fancy mixing bowls. And this—” he pulls out a stand mixer, still in its box.
“I thought you’d want one to match the one you have at your parents. ”
My eyes widen at the sight of the appliance. “Zach, that's expensive.”
“Worth every penny if it means more cookies.” He winks, then points to a breakfast nook tucked into a bay window. “Perfect spot for morning coffee, don't you think? The sun hits it just right around seven.”
I walk over, touching the small round table. “It's nice.”
It is nice. Too nice. It feels like something perfectly crafted to lure me in.
I can picture Zach here, sure, but me? Would I be repeating the same patterns, letting a man define my existence?
Jamie’s voice echoes in my mind, sharp and uninvited.
“Do you ever stop and think, ‘Is this it? Is this all we’re supposed to wish for in life?’”
He said it once, so casually, over one of those stupid dinners our fathers insisted we attend. It was back when I still believed we were happy. At the time, I’d brushed it off as him being philosophical. It was the kind of fleeting thought you throw out there when you’re bored or restless.
Now I wonder if it was a warning. That he was already halfway gone, and I wasn’t enough. That the life our parents built for us was never his, and I was too busy pretending not to notice to actually see it for what it was.
“Through here—” Zach says, opening a door off the kitchen, “—means no more fighting for machines in the dorm basement.” It’s a laundry room with not one but two washer-dryer units.
“You mean I won’t have to worry about someone leaving my wet clothes on top of the machine?” I ask, pretending to be shocked.
“Unless I’m the reason those panties are wet, then no.”
He grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming as he gently guides me back into the main hallway. We walk in step, and he pushes open a door to a spacious bedroom with pale blue walls and a bay window with a cushioned seat. There's a queen bed and a dresser, but otherwise it's mostly empty.
“This is going to be Tiff's room,” he explains. “Thought I'd let her pick what she wants to do in here.”
I walk to the window, gazing out at the quiet side yard, knowing Tiff is going to love this room when she gets here. If she gets here.
“How’s she holding up?” I ask, turning back to face him.
Over the past year, Tiff has slipped into my life without even trying. She and Zach are connected at the hip thanks to her daughter Ella, and I can understand why he’s so protective of them. Tiff’s had it rough with her parents, and she’s still managed to keep fighting through everything.
“She’s okay,” he says, his jaw tight. “The court DNA tests came back and proved Jamie is Ella’s father. Not that we didn’t already know that.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Ish. Gets the case moving, but now they’re using it to try to get full custody of Ella.”
I blow out a breath, shocked. “But Ella’s never even met them.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Zach's phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it. I try not to think about who might be texting him.
“Yeah. Her lawyers say it's just a power play. They’re hoping to pressure her into signing an NDA and taking a payout, but she’s not going for it.”
“But if she signs it, then she’ll be able to move on from the Nicks’ family and completely forget about Jamie.”
Zach gives me a look. One I feel all the way in my chest.
“If she does that, then she’s legally never allowed to mention Jamie to Ella. Ever. His name would be sealed in court, so when Ella’s older, if she wants to find her dad, she won’t be able to. Not legally, anyway.”