Page 184 of Come Break My Heart Again

“What—where are we going? We just got here.”

“We’ll come back. I want to show you something first.”

Elle frowns, but she climbs into the passenger seat after I open the door for her.

I back out of the parking space, then start on the route that’s so familiar by now that I could travel it blindfolded.

Elle keeps glancing over, the confusion on her face growing more pronounced as I drive through town toward Fernwood’s most exclusive neighborhoods.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll see.”

She huffs, but stops asking questions.

Five minutes later, I park in front of the old Warren house. The blue dumpster in the driveway ruins some of the effect, but the exterior still looks pretty good. Way better than when we started.

I wasn’t sure if she’d see it. Get it. But one glance at her face, and I know she does.

I climb out first, walking around to open her door.

“Ryder …” Elle’s wide eyes are glued to the house.

“You remember?”

“I …how? How did you do this?”

I shrug. “Easy. Tuck trusts my vision as his main contractor. I made suggestions; he signed off on everything. Thinks I’m some sort of design genius.”

“No, I mean, how did you remember everything? The color, the brick walk, the porch swing?”

“There’s a screened porch too,” I tell her.

Elle looks away from the house for the first time. “You said that was impractical.”

“The convertible grew on me too. Want to see the inside?”

She nods.

“It’s a lot rougher in here,” I warn her as we approach the front door. “Another few months of work at least.”

I fish the house keys out of my pocket, smiling when my fingers brush the little lighthouse attached to Elle’s car keys.

“Wow. It’s …”

“Empty?”

Elle rolls her eyes. “I was going to say beautiful.”

“This is the entryway, obviously. Living room is here, to the left. Screened porch can be accessed through here or the front porch. And then this is the dining room. Those built-ins are new, just got installed this week. The kitchen is back here. Appliances are in the garage, waiting for the countertop guy to get those installed.”

Elle follows behind me, peering closely at each room.

The drawing she showed me of her dream house was just the exterior, so there are no special details inside. Just the original woodwork and a whole lot of labor. I know every inch of this house as well as my mom’s tiny trailer by this point.

“Want to see upstairs?”

“Maybe later.” Elle looks away from the trim she was inspecting, her attention all on me.

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