Page 80 of The Long Game

Tucker wasn’t playing by the rules during our remodel shopping trip.

I continued to pull the items I thought he’d love the most, but when I’d look over at him for his answer, he’d be studying my reaction to the selection. He wasn’t even looking at the two samples I placed in front of him… he was looking at me.

At first, I thought he wasn’t taking it seriously. Then, it dawned on me halfway through that he was picking the option he thought I wanted.

At the end of our selection, when all the samples that had been selected were put side by side to show the whole picture at once. I asked again. I needed to know if he wanted to change a single thing before we put in the order.

“If you want to change anything, now is the time. Is this what you really want?”

Again, he didn’t look at the samples, laid out perfectly for us to review. His eyes narrowed on me and the intensity of his stare had me fidgeting in place.

“This is exactly what I want.”

In truth, I didn’t have time to argue with Tucker. We really were on a tight time crunch and when Miguel started giving me shipment dates for the items we selected, I was glad we hadn’t waited another day.

If I was designing a kitchen for Tucker, I’d probably go with warm hickory cabinets and black hardware and a stainless-steel sink.

If the house had been for me, I would have picked a true all-white kitchen, complete with a white farmhouse apron sink. Instead, I steered the selections combining feminine and masculine taste.

The kitchen would feature heather grey cabinets, brushed bronzed fixtures and hardware, a hammered copper sink and gorgeous white marble countertops.

Against my original intentions and with each selection, this house was shaping up to look like us.

To get this house ready before Tucker would start summer training was going to be tricky. I loved a good challenge, though, and I was ready to show my skills after years of watching Tucker on the field.

He was going to see what I did best. I was getting a thrill off showing my own talents.

Being in this showroom, making these huge decisions with Tucker, solidified what I already knew. I wanted this life with Tucker. However it looked.

When we looked through the bathroom showroom, I pointed out sink cabinets I thought would work well in the space. Tucker asked me, “Shouldn’t there be a his and hers?”

When we looked at soaking tubs he asked, “Is this the tub you would pick for yourself?”

When we discussed the granite for the island in the kitchen, he said, “As long as it has enough room for two-and-a-half kids.”

Miguel gave him an odd look. Obviously, you can’t have two-and-a-half kids. I had been referring to being pregnant when I told Tucker about how I envisioned my life one day. Miguel, of course, wasn’t privy to that conversation.

By the time we walked out of Claytons three hours later, the McKinney house, or rather, the Evans house was finally taking shape. And I was in love with it.

Dinner didn’t disappoint either. Tucker had gotten us reservations and the food was delicious but the ambience was what made this place special.

“I’m heading out early tomorrow. I have an appointment with my physical therapist in the morning and then an away game this weekend,” he said.

“Ok. The contractor starts demolition on Monday.”

“Good.”

“My mom said she’ll be available to check on the progress and answer questions if the contractor needs anything during the day. I’ll be checking on them before they leave each evening to make sure things are moving along.”

“Great.”

Tucker’s eyes watch me contently. None of the information I gave him seemed to be of any interest to him. He was deep in thought and I knew those thoughts were about me. The stare Tucker gave me was the one I’d seen right before he made a move.

My body thrummed with exhilaration at not knowing what Tucker might do next.

I could feel the shift in our connection, in our comfortability and in our body language since we left the home store. I was almost sure now that Tucker had bought this house for me. To secure a future with me in it. But he hadn’t admitted to it and I was too nervous to ask.

If I was wrong – if my hunch was incorrect, my heart would be shattered for the hundredth time.

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