Chapter 1 #2
The driveway is so unassuming, I drive past it three times before I finally spot the unmarked gravel road.
Overgrown grass and a worn-down fence with rusted wire act as the welcome to my new house.
My tires send pebbles flying, and the sound of them pelting my car can be heard over the radio.
Dust billows around my car, but I can’t be bothered to close my windows.
I want to smell the Texas air, feel the heat of the waning day, taste the dirt that sneaks into my mouth because I can’t stop smiling.
I want to speed through what’s left of the drive, but I dig deep to find the self-control I’ve had such a loose grip on so I can savor what’s left of this new beginning.
As I draw nearer, the two-story farmhouse leaps out like the castle in every fairy tale I lost myself in as a child.
The wraparound porch goes on forever, just like the open fields encasing it.
Windows line the walls, and black shutters wave to me as they move with the evening breeze.
It doesn’t look exactly as I remember it looking in the pictures.
The white paint is dull, and hints of brown wink at me from where it’s chipped.
Wood is warped in places I either ignored or overlooked, and the gutters look like they’re liable to crash to the ground at any moment.
But as I pull into the empty space in front of the detached garage, none of that matters.
When I first reached out to the lone real estate agency I was able to find in Celestial, I was only half-serious. Things had devolved into a mess of astronomical proportions, and there was so much on my plate that the thought of walking away from it all never seemed like an actual option.
And then I opened the email with the listing for this house.
I might be a pretty practical person most of the time—I budget wisely, drink my recommended water intake daily, and bought a modest Honda instead of the Audi the salesman tried to talk me into—but an even bigger part of me loves to lean into big dreams and happily ever afters.
I was the top romance salesperson at the Book Nook for two years and promoted to the director of events and communication for a reason.
I know people think they’re insulting me when they call me delusional, but I wear it like a badge of honor.
People act like being grounded is so important, when really, it’s so much easier to see the big picture when you allow yourself to venture into the clouds.
And this farmhouse, in this town, hundreds of miles from the only place I’ve ever lived, is the first piece of my big picture.
My engine rattles and makes a sound I don’t love when I turn off the car.
It’s the first break it’s had since I stopped at a gas station called Buc-ee’s, a magical land with approximately a million bathrooms and a never-ending supply of coffee, and it’s clear my car is as relieved as I am to have finally made it.
I reach for my door handle, but before I can open it, my hand freezes and my heart hammers inside my chest. Without any warning, the nerves I should’ve felt before I sent the sizable down payment for a house I’ve never set foot in make a very sudden and very unwelcome appearance.
Alongside the fear that no matter where I live, I’ll never have a real home again.
“Oh no. Absolutely not.” My loud voice is a stark contrast to the peaceful quiet of my new front yard as I scold myself. “Good things only from here on out, Starr. You deserve this.”
Gabby might’ve wanted to beat me to death with the self-help books I’ve relied on for the last few months, and I can admit to going a little overboard with the positive affirmation sticky notes I plastered in every nook and corner of my apartment.
It’s just that when you feel like you’re dangling by a thread to survive, you’ll latch on to anything if it means you might not fall.
The power of positive thinking might seem flimsy to others, but it’s been a lifeline for me, and it’s all I know to ensure nothing taints what I plan on building here.
In my new home, enveloped in possibility and wonder, there’s no room for negativity.
No room for fear.
Not even in my mind.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep, even breath.
Focusing on pushing the nerves away and clinging to the relief I felt not thirty minutes ago, I allow my head to drift into the vast, open skies above.
I push away the past and envision the future that, for the first time in a long time, I’m in charge of, until it does the trick.
Thank the lucky stars.
Before I can lose my courage, I hop out of the car and pull my suitcases out of the jam-packed trunk.
Naive excitement chases the fear away and propels me up the unpaved walkway I already have big plans for.
Ignoring the precariously wobbly steps and the way the wood planks bow from the weight of my suitcase, I throw open the squeaky screen door and grab the lockbox hanging on my front door.
I memorized the code days ago, but my hands are so shaky that it takes me five times before I get it right.
When the box clicks open and the key falls into my hand, I nearly weep.
This is it. My perfect chance at a fresh start.
And maybe, if I’m really lucky, a happily ever after of my very own.