Page 101 of Where We Promise

“I just want you to get a better look.”

He parked in front of the matching black garage door that was attached to the house.

I pushed the door open and stepped onto the asphalt. The scent of fresh cut grass and flowers filled the air as a soft breeze tangled my hair. I noticed the for-sale sign and realized that Jameson was serious.

There were neighbors off to the left and right. I spun in a slow circle and took in the neighborhood. It was quiet, well-spaced and still felt private enough with the deep, inset driveways. Standing where I was, it felt like miles separated the homes, even though I knew that wasn’t true.

Jameson’s door clicked shut as he walked around, Connor in his arms as he gave me that nervous smile of his.

“Connor could learn how to ride his bike here.” Jameson scanned the long drive, then he gestured with his chin toward the willow tree. “He’d swing there…you could too.”

Emotion clogged my throat as I stared at the wispy branches, the leaves nearly kissing the ground as the breeze picked up.

Jameson shifted Connor in his arms, so his hand was free. He used it to tug mine up the front steps of the house.

“Jamie, why isn’t there a lockbox on this door?”

He pushed inside and gave me another smile. “I called ahead, the realtor is doing me a favor. I asked if we could look at it alone.”

The light flooded the foyer from a massive window in the attached parlor, all wood floors and built-in window seats with a view of the willow tree. The craftsmanship was so beautiful, so detailed, I trailed my finger over the walls and the banister that would lead upstairs.

Air was tripping in my lungs as we walked through the house. The natural light, the surrounding green grass outside the windows, made it feel like we were in a storybook. More trees filled the space around the house, including a wall of privacy trees that protected us from the view of anyone.

The kitchen was all white quartz counters, white cupboards, dark wood floors, and windows that faced the backyard. A paved patio led down to a large, landscaped yard, green, lush grass stretched from fence to fence, but a small gate led to a massive pond in the back.

“There’s a bridge over the pond, Jamie,” I gasped.

“That pond is ours, no one else can use it, figured Connor might want to catch frogs.”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, tears began falling from my lashes.

“Jameson, explain this to me.”

He turned with Connor in his arms, a warm smile in place as he crowded me against the counter. “You asked me about the club…and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Pen. These last few weeks with you and Connor in the cabin…it’s put some things in perspective.”

Hope was a fickle thing, so I tried to tamp it down and not let it rise within me.

Wetting my lips, I asked, “Like what?”

His brown eyes found mine, the natural light in the room turning them amber.

“My future…I want to stay in Rose Ridge. I want this house, I want you, and I want Connor. That’s it. That’s all I want, Pen.”

I didn’t dare cling to his words as if he meant them. Things were still unsettled in our lives…but Jamie had let me go so many times simply because of his club. I would hold no delusions that he suddenly was ready to walk away from it, even with all the things happening with Luke and Jefferson.

Jamie smiled at me, and I smiled back.

This was fiction, and why not throw in a dream house? The shoe would drop eventually, until then I’d just press a flower into my journal and wish that this could be real.

I was sitting on the floor of Callie’s house, a large blanket was spread out next to me while Connor lay on his back, his beautiful eyes searching the space around us. Natty was on the opposite end while Laura and Callie reclined on the couch.

“He’s so perfect.” Laura sighed, and then glanced over at Callie. Her bump was starting to become more prominent. It was February now, and the weather was starting to warm and the possibility of an early spring was in the air.

It was perfect.

“I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever, Pen. Catch us up on what’s been going on with you and Jamie.” Laura waggled her brows. “The fake husband.”

Feeling a blush creep into my face, I lowered my head to grab hold of my son’s little fist.

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