Page 33 of Savage Love

I’ve never been house-hunting. I had it in my mind that we’d decide on something today and told Levin as much when we left to go to the first one. “I don’t want to spend a bunch of time going back and forth,” I told him firmly. “I just want to decide on something, so we can move in and be done with it.”

Levin had shrugged. “I’m not picky,” he told me. “I’ve lived in the same apartment for a long time. Other than a room I can turn into an office, I don’t need much.”

I don’t know why his answer made me feel disappointed. I didn’t want him to argue with me, exactly. I just wanted—I wasn’t sure.

For him to have an opinion about it, maybe. To care.

I never thought I could feel so fed up with someone telling me that I could have whatever I wanted all of the time. I know it sounds ungrateful. But what I really wanted was for him to have an opinion, too.

The first house was far too small. Three bedrooms technically, but only one was even decently large enough to be ours, and the other two would have been a tight fit each for a nursery and an office. “I think it would be nice to have a guest room,” I tell Levin tentatively as we leave for the second house. “I don’t know who would visit, but just in case—”

“Why not?” Levin shrugs. “It would be nice. And who knows? Maybe your parents will come to visit one day.”

It sounds nice to hear him say it, not that I think my mother would stay at either Isabella's or my house, wherever the latter ends up being. I know Isabella has avoided showing her very much of her home with Niall, knowing that our mother sees it as a huge step down from what we grew up in and what she sees as what we deserve.

Still, who knows what the future holds? I might make friends who might need a place to stay over some nights after staying up too late. Levin might know someone. It feels hopeful to have a spot for guests.And a place to sleep if it ever gets too hard to lie in bed next to a man who doesn’t really want to be there.

I don’t let the last thought linger. The second house is pretty, and larger, but it doesn’t feel quite right. Neither does the third, although I can’t put my finger on exactly why. There’s nothing wrong with them on the surface, but as I tell Levin over lunch before we visit the fourth and fifth houses, it just didn’t feel like home.

“We don’t have to rush,” he tells me gently, setting down the burger he ordered. I have a salad with dressing on the side in front of me, because it’s one of the few foods Isabella and I have determined through unpleasant trial and error that I seem to actually be able to keep down without any issues. “I know you said you wanted to choose something today, Elena. But we have time. Isabella has been trying to be more welcoming with me, I can tell. It’s nice to have the time to catch up with Niall—I hadn’t seen him in a while before this. And you’re comfortable there with your sister. We’re in no hurry.”

I nod, jabbing at my salad with a fork and no real desire to eat. I don’t know how to explain to him that to me, itdoesfeel like we’re in a hurry, like the sooner we get out of this strange liminal space where I’m living in my sister’s house with my new husband, the sooner our marriage might shift into something that feels more real for both of us. I can’t find the right words to tell him, because I know that whatever I say, he’ll likely remind me that this is what our marriage is going to be. For better or for worse—no pun intended—this is it. This is our life together.

“We’ll look at the last two,” Levin says encouragingly. “If one of them feels right to you, we’ll move forward. And if not, we’ll find some others to check out. We’ll find the one you want eventually.”

It doesn’t make me feel as hopeful as I know he means for it to. I have half a mind to say we just head back to Isabella and Niall’s after lunch, but I push forward, getting into the car as Levin looks up the directions for the fourth house—and when we pull into the gravel driveway, I’m glad I did.

The moment I look at it, I have the feeling that I didn’t with any of the others—like this is our home, and I just didn’t know it until now—the feeling that I was hoping for. The house itself is situated about fifteen miles or so away from my sister’s house, not on the water, but nestled up against trees that, from my vantage point in the passenger’s seat, I can see lead to a trail that goes further back into the forest. I picture myself walking out there with a stroller, maybe a dog on a leash, or going for a run in the cool morning air later on, when our baby is older and has already been dropped off at school.

I realize in a rush that in seconds, I’ve been able to picture a future here.Maybe we can buy it,I think to myself as I get out of the car, walking up the gravel drive. The house itself is a similar style to Niall and Isabella’s, made of the clapboard that’s popular here, two stories high with an attic window and a gabled roof. The house is painted white with navy blue shutters, pristine and crisp against the greenery of the trees. As Levin unlocks the door and we step inside, I once again have that feeling of coming home.

The house is empty of furniture or decorations, a blank slate for us. The floors are all gleaming, smooth wood, dark with white walls to accent them, ready for us to paint or wallpaper in any color or pattern we choose, if it becomes ours for good.

After one walkthrough, I know it’s perfect. And I also know that if I tell Levin I want it, he’ll smile and tell meabsolutely. Anything you want.But I wanthimto want it, too.

“Let’s go through it one more time,” I tell him when we make our way back down to the foyer. “I really like this one.”

“I do too.” Levin rubs a hand over his face. “It feels spacious, but nottoobig. Not like we’d rattle around in here until the baby comes, and even after.”

Something catches in my throat at that. I don’t think I’ve heard him say it so casually before like that.Until the baby comes.For just a moment, there’s no guilt or hesitation in his voice. He says it like it was always supposed to be like this—him and I and our child. And maybe more, one day.

I have to stop that train of thought before it goes too far. We haven’t talked about it, and I haven’t let myself think about whether we’ll want or have more children after this unplanned baby. But I think about how much Isabella and I love each other, how devoted we’ve always been to each other, and it feels like it wouldn’t be right to deprive our baby of that—having a sibling.

We’ll talk about it another time,I decide, looking down the hall.We don’t need to decide today.There’s no hurry.

“It’s all so open.” I lead Levin down the hall to the living room, which is one of the biggest rooms in the house, with a huge stone fireplace and double French doors leading out to the tree-lined backyard. “The light in here is beautiful. The windows are so big—we could put a reading nook there—” I point to one of the larger bay windows, with a gorgeous view of the backyard. “And I love the fireplace mantel. Can you imagine it all decorated for the holidays? And how cozy it’ll be in the winter?”

Levin warned me, one of the nights we spent in Rio, what northeast winters are like here. It sounded exciting to me—something new to experience, and he’d shaken his head at me.It’s just like you to find a reason to be excited about it, instead of dreading it. We’ll see how you feel when you’re calf-deep in snow and feel like it’s all the way down in your bones, just to go to the grocery store.

The memory sends a tangled thread of emotions through me. I’d barely heard anything that he said that night afterwe’ll see how you feel,because, in that moment, that had implied that he wouldbe herefor my first winter. Not in New York, far away from me and whatever my reactions might be.

Now he is going to be here, for my first winter and all the winters after that—and the feeling is so bittersweet that I have to swallow back the urge to cry, as I have to so often these days.

I clear my throat, walking through the living room to the kitchen. “I don’t know how to cook,” I tell him with a laugh. “But with a kitchen like this, how could I not learn?”

It’s half the size of the living room, with a light grey granite island, cupboards everywhere, and a range stove. All of the appliances are shiny and new. The windows overlook the backyard where the stove is, and the side of the house where the sink is located, with a view of the garage and the other section of the yard. It’s bright and airy, and I can see myself spending time in here, cooking breakfast, and learning to make dinners for guests to come over and enjoy.

Levin chuckles. “I’m not much for cooking either,” he admits. “Live alone long enough, and takeout becomes the best solution a lot of the time. But I could learn, too.” He grins at me, and I see a moment where his guard slips, and he’s his most natural self. “Can’t let you do all the housekeeping. Gotta pull my weight, too.”

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