31. Epilogue
Epilogue
Lane
Two months later…
“This is the one,” Tage says as he looks up at the house.
“How do you know? We haven’t been inside yet.”
“I can just feel it.”
He takes my hand and pulls me through the gate and down the walkway that leads to a front porch with a hanging swing to the right.
It looks like it may not hold our weight, the wood bowing in multiple spots.
If he’s right, and this is going to be our future house, this will need to be redone.
There’s no issue of money of course, I’m just trying to make a mental list. Because if the outside is any indication, a lot of the inside will need upgrades too.
We knock on the door, and it’s pulled open a moment later by a woman who must be in her eighties at least.
“Hi, you must be Mrs. Merle?” Tage says with a smile.
“That’s me,” she says.
A man who looks just like her, but roughly in his fifties, comes up behind her.
“I’m Harold, her son. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, of course.”
We all shake hands and they let us inside. Mrs. Merle offers us lemonade, but we decline. Tage is just excited about seeing the house.
We saw the For Sale sign in the front yard when we were driving around the neighborhood the other day.
We called the number and set up a time to see the house.
I have cash, ready to buy whichever house Tage says is the one he wants.
Of course, I couldn’t get away with buying the house and him doing nothing though.
He’s insisted on paying the rest of the bills.
Gas. Electric. Water. Whatever else he decides.
There’s no point in arguing with him. He only gets upset. So, I agreed, because if that’s what makes him feel better, it’s fine with me.
He’s still my assistant too, despite everyone assuming I would hire someone else once our relationship became serious. If anything, we work better together now. Business has never been better, and I’ve learned there’s no one I trust more to keep me—and the company—on track.
I don’t hate the house, not at all. But as a businessman, I’m wondering if this is a good investment. Not sure it matters, because what Tage wants, Tage gets.
The Merles don’t stop talking while they show us around.
Mrs. Merle has recently been diagnosed with Dementia and is going to live with her son about an hour away. He’s come down to help her sell the house and pack things, but they’re hoping to be out as soon as possible because he needs to get back home to go back to work.
She tries to tell us stories about the house, but the son keeps rolling his eyes and correcting her, whispering to us that her mind is going. I don’t see anything wrong with her telling stories. What does it matter to us if they’re accurate?
Regardless, they’re both very kind and Tage has a smile on his face the entire time. I know he hasn’t changed his mind.
The farmhouse-style home is spacious, with plenty of rooms and a big backyard.
There isn’t a pool—yet. We can build one. There is plenty of space.
The house has two main floors, an unfinished basement and attic. It takes Mrs. Merle a bit to walk up the stairs to the second floor, especially because she insists on doing them herself and not letting her son help.
“My mother gave birth to me in this room right here,” she says, pointing to the room directly to the left.
“I told you not to tell people that,” the son complains.
She waves him off and continues to tell us the story.
Tage is fully engaged and whenever he looks at me, it solidifies that this will be the place we raise our children.
I guess this is going to be our new home.
I’ll make sure to hire people that will respect the age of the house. I’m sure Tage won’t want anything changed, but it does need to be safe.
The tour takes about forty-five minutes, and I tell them we will be in touch tomorrow because there are still a few houses we want to see. Tage thanks them a hundred times as we walk out the door. When we’re back in the car, he just grins at me.
“If you want it, it’s yours,” I say.
“I hope it doesn’t come with ghosts!” He throws himself in my lap and hugs and kisses me like I just gave him the best gift ever. “This house is beautiful, Lane. Obviously it needs some fixing-up, but it’s so perfect. And we can get the pool built, right?”
“There was room for it.”
“We have to get it.”
“I’ll call them tonight,” I say. “Tell them I’ll give them cash for it. I doubt they’ll refuse.”
“This is the best day ever.”
I’ll hear that a lot in our lives, and I think he’s right each and every time.
He says it again when I propose.
When we get married.
On our honeymoon.
When I make him partner at my company, because there’s nothing more I want than to run it together, equally.
Getting the dog.
The cat.
When we adopt our first child.
Then our second.
Our third.
And yeah, even our fourth.
Our house is full of laughing, crying, screaming, shouting. But most of all, it’s full of love. So much love.
Our kids love each other like siblings do. They protect each other like siblings do.
And Tage and me? We love each other like we were just meant to be.
Because we were.