49. Alexis
Alexis
For a few moments, I’m unable to do anything but stare at the house, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.
I try to breathe normally, but it’s like my lungs have forgotten how.
The sight of the home in front of me—our home now, according to Gabriel—is overwhelming in a way I can’t even begin to put into words.
Then I look back at Gabriel, and he’s already watching me. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, tempered by something softer. Hope. He’s not rushing me, just waiting, silently offering me the time I need.
“You… you’re serious?” I ask finally. My voice comes out as a strained squeak, which makes him smile.
“Do you want to go inside?” he asks.
I nod silently. I don’t trust myself to speak. My fingers fumble slightly with the door handle of the car, and when I open it and step out, the pavement feels oddly firm beneath my feet, like I’ve stepped into some surreal version of reality.
This might as well be a dream. I feel like any moment now, I’m going to blink and be back in my hospital bed, staring at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling instead of this gorgeous house.
Gabriel moves beside me, close but not crowding me.
He doesn’t take my hand. He doesn’t try to lead me.
He just walks with me, step for step, letting me decide when and how this begins.
My hands tremble slightly as I reach for the door handle, but before I can touch it, Gabriel steps forward, pulling a key from his pocket.
“This is yours,” he murmurs, pressing the key into my palm. His fingers linger for just a second, warm and reassuring. “Go ahead.”
I swallow hard and fit the key into the lock, twisting it. The soft click as it unlocks sounds louder than it should. Monumental.
As the door swings open, the first thing that hits me is the scent. Fresh paint, newly sanded wood, the citrus scent of cleaner or floor polish. Light streams in through the large windows, illuminating spacious, pine floors.
“Let me give you the tour,” Gabriel says.
We start with the first floor. He shows me the large living room near the entrance, with its stone fireplace and grand windows.
Then we move on to the kitchen—white-washed cabinets and a gas range, a spacious island and a walk-in pantry.
The breakfast nook is tucked into a sun-drenched corner, and I can just picture gauzy curtains on those windows, quiet mornings with a cup of coffee and my sketchbook.
He takes me to the dining room, and for a moment, I close my eyes, picturing the sounds of many voices in this space. People sharing a meal, a dinner like the one I had months ago with Gabriel’s family.
There’s no furniture anywhere in the house yet, but some features of the house already make it seem cozy even with the empty space.
Intentional choices, I now realize, made by someone with an eye for everything I would like.
The whitewashed kitchen cabinets, the iron chandelier that hangs in the dining room, the neat stonework of the fireplace.
And everywhere, those beautiful pine floors, perfectly polished such that I almost feel guilty for walking on them.
Most importantly, through every window, I can see lilac bushes.
Their sweet scent permeates the air, particularly in the kitchen, where the window above the sink is cracked open slightly as if the house itself is inhaling the smell.
It’s strong enough that I can catch traces of it even through the clean aroma of a newly-refurbished house.
I remember telling him, long ago, that I missed the lilacs outside of my old place.
It occurs to me that these flowers are no accident.
He had them planted specifically for me, because he remembered, from an offhand comment I made ages ago, that I love them.
The thought makes my throat close up. I’m shocked that detail even stuck with him.
The fact that he acted on it like this is enough to make my chest feel tight.
He shows me the rest of the first floor, which includes a den, a home office for himself, two bathrooms, and an empty room that he tells me is mine.
For a moment, I’m confused. This room is large enough to be a bedroom, but I can’t imagine why Gabriel would show me this house, his proposal for a life we could share together, and not want me in the master bedroom. He smiles, as if he can read all of my thoughts from just the look on my face.
“It’s a studio space,” he says. “For your work. I figured you’d want somewhere you can work from home too, if you ever need somewhere quiet to sketch designs. I’ve even ordered a sewing machine for it.”
I try to say something, anything. It’s incredible. It’s beautiful. But I still can’t find my voice. I just let out a small squeak, which makes him chuckle.
The studio space is everything I’ve ever wanted.
I would still have the option of going in to the warehouse to work on my designs, but I can think of dozens of situations when I would rather work from here.
After I have the baby. If I’m not feeling well.
When I’m doing something just for myself, a personal project without the pretense of my career attached to it.
I cross the room to the two windows on the opposite wall, pressing my palm against the glass. The lilacs outside shudder delicately in a sudden, warm breeze.
I stare at them for a long moment. If I’m going to work in this room, I’m going to need to order plenty of light purple dyes and embroidery thread. The flowers are so beautiful, it’ll be impossible not to incorporate them into my work.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I follow him up the stairs, my legs feeling heavy as if I’m wading in thigh-deep water, walking through some dream I’m afraid to wake up from.
The second floor is just as breathtaking as the first. Gabriel shows me the master bedroom.
We walk out onto the balcony that overlooks the in-ground pool in the wide backyard.
He takes me down the hall, showing me the three additional bedrooms—a guest room, a room for Peyton, a room for the baby.
Then he ushers me into the final room on the second floor, and my mouth drops open.
It’s a home library. This room was clearly the focal point of his renovations on the house.
The walls are lined with shelves, a rich, dark wood that contrasts with the pale cream of the paint.
They’re empty now, but I can tell just by looking that my current collection of books won’t even fill a third of them.
“This is…” I swallow, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “This is unbelievable. You… you did all this?”
“Well, not by hand,” he says, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “I wanted it to turn out well, and I’m not exactly a carpenter. But I had it commissioned, yes. For you.”
“I… I…” I blink, shaking my head to clear it. “I don’t have this many books.”
“Well, I had to include extra space.” He paces to one wall, running a hand along a shelf. “It’s not like I’m going to stop spoiling you with new books. You’ll need all the shelves you can get.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. I glance at Gabriel, and I can’t hold back the wave of emotion any longer.
“This is so beautiful,” I whisper. “I can’t… I can’t believe how beautiful. How did you… why did you…”
“Around a million reasons,” he tells me.
I open my mouth to ask him to elaborate, but the words won’t come out. Luckily, he seems to understand without my needing to speak.
He steps toward me, his gaze serious. “I let myself be held back by the wounds of my past for too long. When we first met, I was wrong to tell you I couldn’t love you.
It was a lie—one I was telling to you, and to myself.
Because the truth is, I started falling for you the very first time I saw you. ”
My heart skips a beat as he comes closer, crossing the distance between us until he’s within my reach. And finally, I let myself reach for him, laying a hand on his side like I’ve wanted to for weeks.
“I blew up what we had when I asked you for a divorce,” he says.
“I know that. And I’m not asking to restart that life.
I don’t just want to go back to the way things were.
It was the happiest I’ve been in years, but I’m not just trying to correct my mistakes.
The situation we had… it isn’t what I want anymore. ”
“Gabriel—”
“I want to start fresh. I want to build a future with you.”
I had never expected this. Not in this way, not after everything. But hearing him say it, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, shatters the worn-down armor I’d built around my heart.
“You’re my future, Alexis,” he breathes, his hand resting on my waist. “In every way. Since I shut you out, I haven’t been able to sleep.
I’ve had problems sleeping for years now, and when you were in my bed, by my side…
it was the best rest I’ve gotten in my life.
I didn’t realize why I felt so much better at the time.
It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized how much I wanted you there. How much I needed you.”
He draws a long breath and leans in. For a second I think he’s going to kiss me, but he stops, his face just inches from mine.
“I love you.” His voice is raw, stripped of every defense. “And I’ll love you more every day. I couldn’t stop if I tried.”
I wait for him to close the last bit of distance, but he doesn’t.
He holds still, his eyes on mine, and all at once I understand he’s waiting for me.
That this is my choice. Not an arrangement, not an obligation.
He’s offering, and leaving the decision in my hands, refusing to push me into it.
For once in my life, my future belongs to me.