She looks a mess, a sloppy half-snarled ponytail sort of sticking somewhere out the back quarter of her head with tendrils escaping down her neck and bare face. Her jeans are a little big, barely holding onto her hips, and the faded tank top hugs her breasts. And she’s never been more beautiful. No matter how angry she is, she’s going to hear the truth. I have to get her to listen.
I approach slowly, scared that if I startle her, she’ll run away. As I get close, I hear her whisper, “Perfect.” Tears are running silently down her cheeks, and as I crunch over a dead leaf, she turns, her face still showing a hint of pain but her eyes glowing. “You–you did a good job.”
I want to grab her in a hug, to tell her it’s all a big mistake and to never let her go. I don’t, though. I have to talk to her, heart to heart, first. “I wanted to make sure that this thing will be hanging up here for the next twenty years.”
“So you overbuilt the shit out of it,” Cassie says before giving me a weak, bitter laugh. “I wish I were this overbuilt.”
“Cassie—” I say, but she interrupts me.
“Here,” she says, reaching a hand into her purse and handing me an envelope. “Oliver said to give this to you.”
I grin. I can’t help it. Oliver, you sneaky bastard. “You sure? Open it.”
“Come on, Caleb, stop fucking around!” Cassie cries. “I just want to get the walk-through done so Oli can list it! Take the envelope.”
I take the envelope but keep my silence, trying to work past this bit of last-second fear. Finally, Cassie sighs and looks at the house. “I’ll let him know it’s done and that I gave you the check. The realtor comes by early next week to list it, so it’ll be on the market soon.”
I grin, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, um . . . I talked to Oliver about that. He canceled that appointment. The realtor isn’t coming by.”
Cassie looks shocked. “What? But he was just busting my chops half an hour ago telling me I had to see this all the way through.”
I nod, reaching out to take her hand. “Cass, you said something when you were yelling at me the other day. You surprised me and confused the fuck out of me. You said you fell for me.”
“I did say that, but it was a mistake,” Cassie says, trying to pull back, but I won’t let her hand go.
“No, it wasn’t. Because I love you too. Here.” I hand her the envelope and then press the house keys into her hand, closing her fingers over it. She takes them with a confused look on her face, ping-ponging from the keys in her hand to my face.
“You love me? And . . . keys? What? And what’s with the envelope?”
I feel light, as if a giant tie-down that’s been wrapped around my chest were suddenly cut loose, and I take her hand again. “It’s yours, Cassie. This house is yours—if you want it, that is. It’s not a check in that envelope. It’s the contract. It’s the agreement I struck with Oliver. He and I worked it out this morning. He gets my house and your down payment, and the renovations I’ve done on his rental properties are free of charge for all the expenses he’s incurred.”
“But . . . but why?” Cassie asks. “Why did you do this?”
“Because someday, you’re gonna be the one to give this house the family it always deserved, although I think you and your mama were family enough for it. And if you don’t mind my being a bit presumptuous, I’d like to be the man to make that family with you.”
Cassie’s eyes are swimming with tears of shock, and her voice is a choked whisper when she can finally reply. “But what about Sportscar Blondie?”
I step back, rubbing at my neck and laughing. That had been the hardest part to understand, once I really calmed down and set my mind to it. “Yeah, it took me a bit to figure out what the hell you were talking about. The blonde you saw in the car . . . did you see her before you went postal?”
Cassie shakes her head. “No, but I heard you and her, and you had her lipstick all over your cheek.”
“Yeah, that’s Mrs. Barnes,” I reply, and Cassie blinks, realization starting to dawn on her once she hears the name. “I do work for her around her house sometimes. She’s got a little crush on me and tried to give me a thank-you peck—that I dodged—and she caught my cheek. You probably know her. She’s friends with Oliver’s mom.”
“Oli’s mom?”
I nod, blushing a little “Yeah, a really sweet lady who’s a bit lonely since her husband died and likes to flirt with me. She needs to have some work done at her place, and she makes the best lemonade and cookies I’ve ever had. I know you remember my telling you about that.”
Cassie steps back, and for a long, drawn out moment, there’s nothing but the trill of the cicadas until she leans back, laughing to the sky. It’s pure, joyful laughter, and as she continues, I can’t help but be drawn in by it until we’re both leaning on the tire, our guts aching with rib-splitting bellows. Finally, when it hurts so much that even my stomach is cramping, Cassie gasps out, “Are you kidding me right now?”
I wipe at my eyes, shaking my head. “No lie. You wanna go with me tonight? I have to stop by there. It’s a quick
