He frowns at my mom. “Yeah, Sharron, stop.”
My mom snorts and apologizes. She’s had one too many cocktails tonight.
It’s still fairly early when Paul and I leave the restaurant. This whole pregnancy thing is wearing me out and I’m hardly even showing yet. The only physical changes I’ve noticed is that my clothes don’t fit like they used to and my boobs are engorged.
There are plenty of other changes though. The big one, I started noticing after the nausea finally wore off, is pregnancy hormones. I’ve heard of expecting women having mood swings and cravings, but no one told me I would be horny as shit twenty-four/seven. Sometimes all it takes is for Paul to brush against me and I’m chasing him down, humping his leg. Seriously, though. All I want to do is fuck. Poor Paul is keeping up, but by the time the evening comes around, he’s wrecked.
“My feet are killing me. Can we go home now?” I ask him on the way to his truck. I lean my head against his shoulder and wraps his arm around me, his hand on my hip.
All I want to do is eat a big bowl of ice cream, watch a chick flick, and have sex until I drift off into dream land.
“Whatever you want,” he says.
As we drive away, we’re going in the opposite direction of the apartment. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” He drives through town with that same smirk on his face. He’s up to something. Instead of pushing him about it, I lean my head against the window and watch the scenery whip by.
I see the sign for the freeway, and I deflate. I really hope he doesn’t plan to take me out of town for some kind of graduation surprise. My bladder is the size of a pea these days and car sickness is still an issue even if it’s not as bad as it was those first few weeks.
Instead of taking the freeway, he takes a left, into the old Victorian neighborhood. The sun is going down behind the cliffs. The steadfast homes that have been watching over this town from the cliffs for over a hundred years live to see another day. The speed limit through this neighborhood is forty, but he’s creeping through at a mere 25.
What in the hell is he doing?
I look over at the house of my dreams and realize there is no longer a for sale sign staked into the lawn. Someone has been hard at work fixing it up since I last saw it. There’s a new coat of paint, and all the little ginger bread details that were broken have been replaced. It’s stunning. I love the darker gray and the deep purple trim it’s been painted. It even looks like the new owners have put in double pane windows and a new lawn.
“I’m glad someone finally bought that house,” I say, looking at it longingly. “It deserves a good family.”
“Yes it does.”
He pulls into the driveway and parks. “I want to take a peek inside.”
When he starts to get out of the truck I say, “We can’t. Someone lives here now.” The porch light is on and everything.
He comes over to the passenger side and opens my door for me. “Yeah. We do.”
I sit for a moment, trying to make sense of his words. Like, what do those words even mean? I’m so confused I think I’m hearing things.”
“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” I say.
He laughs and takes my hand, helping me out of the truck. Removing a key and key ring from his chain, he says, “Welcome home, Rachael,” and hands it to me.
“Shut up. This is yours?” It’s impossible to contain my excitement. I know my voice has reached obnoxious levels, but I’m having a hard time policing my happiness. Curtains flutter as neighbors look out their windows.
“No, it’s ours. The place we are going to raise our baby and start our lives together.”
The tears start to fall. That’s another thing I seem to do a lot of lately: cry.
Inside smells like sawdust and fresh paint. It’s just as I imagined. Right when you walk in the front door, there’s a sweeping staircase and a massive chandelier hanging over it. Wood lace accents are in the corners, and everything is finished off with elaborate crown molding. The arched doorway to my right opens into a sitting room the size of my apartment. I go in there first. There’s a fireplace and furniture I recognize from Paul’s friends store. It’s decorated in an ocean theme with a lot of white and pale aqua colors as accents. I can’t imagine what it would cost to furnish a house like this.
The chairs and couches are made to look old in order to match the house, but have subtle modern details to keep it interesting and from looking like we stepped back in time.
Among the ship models, letters in bottles, and map paintings, is our baby’s ultrasound photo that has been blown up, framed, and hung on the wall as an art piece. I never would’ve thought to do something like that. It’s a good thing Paul decorated or I could’ve had this place looking like a school dorm in no time. It’s everything I could’ve wanted and so much more.