“Probably not.” I laughed as we walked out of the barn. “Noodle arms, that one.”
Pete sputtered with laughter as we neared the house. Keely stepped out onto the porch, smiling widely as she saw us walking side by side.
“Are you friends again?” she asked excitedly.
“Unfortunately, neither of you can get rid of me that easily,” Pete quipped. “Plus, George needs me right now since you’re useless when it comes to moving anything even remotely heavy.”
“Hey! That’s not even true!” she frowned.
The next hour was spent moving the old couches and appliances out of the house and taking stock of what handmade furniture made by my father I wanted to keep, which was all of it.
Night fell, and the three of us sat out on the front porch drinking beer and eating cold pizza as the stars filled the sky overhead.
Pete and I told Keely stories about what life looked like here when we were nothing but dirty, rebellious little boys with no concept of time or the fact that we’d grow old one day.
It was a perfect night. And I was home, sitting with my best friend on one side, and the woman I was going to marry on the other.
Everything felt good. It felt right. Finally.
ChapterThirty-One
Keely
For the past week, George and I had been splitting our time between our jobs at the ranch and working on his childhood home. The contractor, a man named Jeff who’d been working Moira for some time at the Ranch, was in the process of putting on a new roof while we were cleaning up the inside of the house. Thankfully, the house was in good shape otherwise, and I watched from the foyer as a group of men were at work patching up the huge whole in the ceiling caused by my boyfriend falling from the second floor to the ground floor and landing on the gross old couches we’d tossed out days ago.
George was in good spirits. While I went about my work at the ranch, cooking and taking care of Moira, he often stopped in to get a snack or glass of lemonade, and didn’t leave until I gave him a kiss. Even Moira was feeling better and was still pregnant despite how sick she was only a week before.
The sun shined, the air was warm despite the seasons beginning to shift, and the future felt… bright.
“Well, your woodworking skills are being put to the test,” I marveled as I ran my fingers over the banister he was crafting for the staircase. He’d designed it by hand down to the small ivy-shaped etchings.
“Have you decided what color you’re going to paint it?” he asked, his face half hidden by a pair of safety googles as he continued carving. I looked out the wide doors leading out of the shop in his backyard on his property at the Hallston Ranch. One of his cows walked by, peeking in before moving along.
“Are you sure you want me to decide?” I asked. Honestly, we hadn’t really talked about moving in together yet, not in all seriousness. He told me, essentially, that I’d be living with him once Moira’s baby was born but we hadn’t sat down and had a serious conversation about our relationship like that.
“Of course, I do. You have an eye for these things—”
“Do you really want me to move in? I feel like—Like this house, your childhood home, it’s really special to you. You should decide—”
He set down what he was working on and flipped his glasses up so they rested on the top of his head and sighed, giving me an almost fatherly look.
“Of course, I want you to move in. I was planning on it. I want this to be your home as much as it will be mine. We could move in at the end of the summer next year—”
“I don’t want you to think we’re rushing into things—”
“Is that what you think?”
“Well, it hasn’t been all that long, George.”
George gave me a wry smile, shrugging boyishly. “Well, I’m not a young, reckless man anymore, Keely. I know what I want. I know what I want in the future. I’m serious about that future being you… But I’d understand if you’re not comfortable with it, if you think we’re moving too fast we don’t have to make any decisions right now. Grant already said you could live with them as long as you want.”
“I feel the same way about it as you do,” I admitted, unsure why I was suddenly dragging my feet. “I guess I’ve never really had a place to call home since my parents died, you know?”
“I get it,” he said with a soft, knowing smile. “I felt the same for a long time.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “Is it because we’re not married?”
“Oh, George.” I laughed. “We are grown adults—”
“I know but… that would make sense to me too, I guess. Not wanting to make anything this official before I put a ring on your finger. I plan to, one day. I hope you know how serious I am about this. About us. I love you, and I always will.”