“Impossibly in love with you,” he counters, opening his car door and quickly making his way around so he can open mine.
He bows, offering his hand to me. “Miss Sanderson, are you ready for your tour of Casa Evans?”
I place my hand in his, trying to ignore the flutter of nervousness in my stomach as he leads me to the large, black and glass door.
This is it.
This isn’t just a little tour where he brags about a fireplace. This is Zach’s plea for me to move in, and I’m finding it increasingly hard to resist when I think about how inhospitable my current living arrangements are.
Honey Sanderson. Pick Me.
“Are you ready?” he asks, taking a steadying breath.
“Of course. I can’t wait.”
He unlocks the steel door, revealing a large foyer with dark wooden floors and a sleek light fixture above.
I draw in a sharp breath.
I knew it. I knew this was a bad idea.
“So, this is the entry,” he says, gesturing to the pristine white walls. “It’s a little empty right now, but I figured we could wait and pick out some pictures together. Maybe of us with Tiff and Ella.”
I stay quiet, smiling as I take in the place.
It’s perfect. That’s all I can say.
And it’s so Zach.
Only two short years ago, he was wearing unbranded sneakers at our prep school. Now he’s bought the fanciest house in Hope, Indiana. All because of his drive and determination. His ambition makes my indecision about a major feel like a bad joke.
“If you don’t want it to be so personal in the hallway, then we can go to that art gallery we walked past last semester and pick out a couple of those black and white paintings you liked.”
Of course he remembers. Zach notices everything about me, which makes it increasingly difficult to want to be away from him.
He guides me into the next room, and I gasp when I see the floor-to-ceiling windows. “This is the living room,” he announces with a sweep of his arm. “Sixty-five-inch TV, surround sound system, and check this out.” He picks up a remote and presses a button. The electric fireplace flickers to life, casting a warm glow across the room. “For those cold Indiana nights.”
“It’s pretty fancy, Evans,” I say teasingly.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a girl who’s used to expensive things,” he mumbles, and I can’t deny it sends a small thrill up my spine to hear that.
He wants this forus.I want that too… I just wish the timing wasn’t such a cosmic joke. I wish we were older and out of college. Then we’d be somewhere people don’t treat our relationship like a group project they all get a say in, but wishing for that is a slippery slope. It leads straight to the thing I try not to think about.
Barring any injury, Zach is going to the NFL, and he will be drafted high. If he plays the way I know he can, this… spotlight will be his life.
It would beours.
And I can’t stop asking myself the question I’m terrified to answer—can I handle that forever?
What if being with him here means losing more ofme?
“Wait till you see the kitchen.” He takes my hand, leading me through the open-concept space.
The beautiful, white kitchen, sparkles with granite countertops, and a massive island with bar seating.
“I had them put in double ovens,” he tells me, opening one to show me. “So we can have big family dinners on Sunday. Might even give you space to bake those awesome double chocolate cookies you made for our six-month anniversary. I still dream about them.” He opens a cabinet. “I even got fancy mixing bowls. And this—” he pulls out a stand mixer, still in its box. “I thought you’d want one to match the one you have at your parents.”
My eyes widen at the sight of the appliance. “Zach, that's expensive.”