Page 107 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Ellie: Why didn’t he marry her then?

Me: IDK. I guess some guys just have an issue with commitment.

I re-read the text, the irony not being lost on me. I was one of those guys with commitment issues. Until now.

Ellie: What about Allie, or your mom? I’m sure they’d be much better at picking a new place.

Me: I’m sure they’d be happy to do it. But they aren’t nearly as pretty as you.

The delay in a response clues me in on her hesitation.

Me: Come on. I’ll throw in dinner after.

Ellie: You’re bribing me? I don’t need a man to pay for dinner, Blake.

Me: Fine, then I’ll throw in ME, all six-foot-two of naked me.

I hold my breath waiting for a response. Is she thinking about what Maisy called her earlier? Is she thinking I’ll toss her aside as easily as Lucas did Lissa? I suppose propositioning her with sex was the wrong move. I should grow a pair and tell her how I feel. Not over a text, however.

I walk into the dining room and peruse the drawings on the table. So many of them have Ellie in them. She already feels like family. She’s a part of this. She’s a part ofme. But if I put it out there and tell her how I feel and she doesn’t feel the same way, I’ll ruin everything.

Ellie: Well when you put it that way, how can a girl refuse?

My knees almost buckle with relief.

You’re in as deep as an elephant in quicksand, Dax would say. And he’d be right. I’m totally fucking deep. Way over my head deep. I shred the drawing of Ellie outside the house and toss it in the trash.

Chapter Thirty-eight

38

Ellie

After looking at the first two houses, I have little hope that Blake will find the perfect one. His expectations are high, and his wants, many. A large open floor plan. Gourmet kitchen. More bedrooms than he and Maisy could ever use. And number one on his list: a large, safe yard. In this small town, he may be looking for a unicorn.

He’s got enough money that he could build his dream home. But I get the idea he’s not keen on waiting the year or so it might take to make that happen.

When we follow his realtor, Dennis, to the final property, I sit a little straighter in the passenger seat of Blake’s car. This house is in a cul-de-sac. At first sight, it looks promising. Three-car garage. Privacy fence surrounding a back yard, the top of a play structure peaking tall above it.

Then we pass a sign. Aroadsign. Blake and I look at each other in both excitement and surprise.

Deaf Child Area

It makes sense. This neighborhood backs up to the far end of the Deaf school property where the athletic fields are. He could walk her to school—that is, if he’s going to continue sending her there for kindergarten. I know he’s weighing the pros and cons of public school. Both schools have their merits. Though, in Maisy’s case, with her being behind in all language skills, I believe she’d be better served at my school. Then again, I may be a bit biased. More importantly, though,hehas to make the decision. I’m not here to influence, just inform.

The added bonus to this house, assuming the deaf child in the area isn’t the one moving, is that Maisy could have a playmate. It could be exactly what Blake had hoped for and more.

He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s trying not to jinx it. I can tell he has high hopes for this one. After all, if this one doesn’t work, he either has to search outside the town, build a house, or wait for more to come on the market.

We park behind Dennis on the street in front of the house. He has a conversation with Blake, but his bushy mustache makes it hard for me to read his lips. Blake’s vocabulary has expanded so much, and he does his best to sign when he can. The man must study ASL like it’s his second job.

“Lots of renovations,” Blake says directly to me, obviously impressed with what he’s hearing.

I see movement in the yard to the left. In front of a slightly smaller house is a boy and either his babysitter or mother. He’s laughing as the woman tickles him. She kisses him on the head. Hmm… mother then.

When I turn back to Blake, he’s still talking to the realtor. But then he stops abruptly, his head tipping sideways and his jaw hanging open as he gazes behind me. He touches my arm. “Look,” he signs.

My heart catches in my throat, and I one hundred percent know he’s going to buy this house before even setting foot inside as Blake and I watch the little boy sign with his mother.

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