Page 34 of No Time for Traditions

“It’s funny you say that.” Brittany twisted her mouth and looked Greg in the eyes. “I thought this house symbolized everything I loved. My grandparents, memories, peace and happiness. To me, it was Alabama. It was home.”

Greg swallowed another gigantic bite of food and wrinkled his forehead. “Wait, so the house isn’t all that anymore?”

“I don’t know.” Brittany fumbled with her fork and gazed around at the cozy decorations. “Maybe Scott is right. Without someone living here, it’s just a house.”

Greg moved his hand from covering hers and laced their fingers. He stared into her eyes. “Would that mean if the house were to sell, you’d have no reason to come back and visit?”

“No, my entire family is here . . .” Brittany paused and smiled. “And you.”

Greg raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Brittany’s laughter lasted a few seconds, then trailed off into a groan. “You know I leave tomorrow.”

Greg nodded. “I wish you could stay longer.”

“So do I.”

“Why don’t you?”

Brittany released her hand from his and crossed her arms. “It’s not that easy.”

“It can be. I wanted to come back, so I started my own business. Now I’m my own boss and make a lot more money. I haven’t regretted a bit of it.” Greg cocked his head and smirked. “Except for maybe moving above my parents’ garage.”

Brittany took a deep breath and rested her chin in her hands. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t get too much business as a book editor in Hillside.”

“Can’t you work remotely?”

Brittany rubbed her forehead. She’d already thought of all the options, and none of them made sense. “I don’t think so. I meet with authors all the time, and I do a lot for my boss.”

Greg frowned and dropped his head. “I think you should just write.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Greg’s eyes met hers again. “Isn’t that what you want to do?”

“It is, but every time I talk to my boss, she says it’s best I stay an editor.”

“Look, I’m not telling you what to do. But if I were you, and I had your talent, I’d show her something you wrote.”

Brittany blinked. Greg made a good point. And it just might work . . . for someone like him. She, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so bold when it came to talking to her boss—or anyone.

Greg rested his hands behind his head and eyed their surroundings. “Do you need my help taking any of this down?”

Brittany pressed her lips together, relieved he’d changed the subject from her career. “No. Mama said to leave them up for now. I think Uncle Thomas is supposed to have a Realtor come in, and Mama mentioned they sometimes like holiday staging this time of year.”

Greg nodded. “Makes sense. I’d want to buy it looking like this.”

“So what happens after tomorrow?” Brittany cleared her throat, as if those words had clawed her insides on the way up.

“With the house? How should I know?” Greg shoveled in another spoonful of mashed potatoes and chewed as he waited for her response.

“No, silly. I mean with you and me.” Brittany tapped her fingers on the table and stared at him.

“I really would want to come see you in New York.”

“That’s great, but what are we?”

Brittany’s biggest fear wasn’t the farmhouse selling, but rather Greg dating someone else. And what scared her even more was that she had no control over either situation. She could fill up a bullet journal with lists and set calendar schedules all she wanted. But while those tactics worked for books and deadlines and planning her day, she couldn’t plan the future of the farmhouse or the direction of Greg’s heart.

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