I moved up the walk, bending to gather a few pumpkins on the way.
I stopped at the front door and turned back, juggling pumpkins to lift a hand to wave.
Deacon was down the lane, his SUV shrouded by dark. I couldn’t see if he waved back.
But I doubted he did.
He was on a mission.
Go home so his life could begin again.
I opened the door on that thought, felt the wave of warmth hit me, squatted and put the pumpkins on the floor by the side of the door.
I didn’t go back for more. I couldn’t see Deke but if he knew I’d gathered all the pumpkins without him helping, this would not make him happy.
As I closed the door on the cold behind me, I took in all that lay before me.
This was obviously not the first time I saw it. I’d watched it all coming together. And that day, as the finishing touches were done, the guys going around sweeping and vacuuming (I still had a cleaning service scheduled to come in the next day and do a full clean—the dudes tidied but they were dudes so they weren’t real good at it), I’d not once but several times wandered around, taking it all in.
Though now it was vacant and quiet and I could do it without distractions or getting in anyone’s way.
It was everything I imagined it to be and more. This more coming from the long copper hood over the center fireplace that was a showstopper. It also came from a set of wide, open-backed stairs set at the landing to the right. The treads of those stairs were the only thing in the house carpeted—thick, cream wool wrapped around each tread. The elegant yet rustic railings were pure artistry. And the inviting widened swirl bottom landing was something I couldn’t envision from looking at the plans. Something that was startlingly beautiful in reality.
All building materials had been taken away but my garage was still filled, now with furniture and décor my designer had been sending, deliveries I’d been getting from hitting go on weeks of online shipping, bags of stuff I’d been buying.
It was now Tuesday, a week and a few days after Deke and I went to dinner with Max and Nina.
Tomorrow morning it was the cleaning service and me unearthing purchases from bags and boxes. Tomorrow evening, Deke had arranged for the guys to come around and carry in the furniture that had been delivered.
And my house would start becoming a home.
The only pall on this was that Deke was scheduled to hit another job Max was working on tomorrow. I would no longer have him at my house all day.
Weirdly, we didn’t get on each other’s nerves with all the time we spent together. Granted, he was working and I also was doing my thing so we weren’t in each other’s presence 24/7, but we spent a lot of time together.
More weirdly (but this weird was wonderful), the way that was felt like it wasn’t going to change. Not that what we had was new and we were in the throes of that—when every second you spent with a lover was fresh and exciting so you wanted to spend every second you had with them.
No, it seemed more like this could be us. Was us. We could be that couple who worked together (if we had a business we both could do together), spending nearly every waking and sleeping moment in each other’s company, that coming natural, being easy, never getting old.
I’d already found that we could do our thing, me going shopping with the girls or into town to get food or a mani/pedi. But there was a settling when I got back.
Not like I couldn’t wait to get back, hated to be away from my man.
Just that, when I was with Deke, everything that was me settled into the fact I was back where I belonged.
So I wasn’t real hip on him being gone all day in a way I couldn’t get to him and ask what he thought about the towels I was buying for the guest bathroom (or whatever).
But this was life. This was its rhythm and would be the months we stayed put.
I needed to get used to it.
I didn’t have to like it, but I needed to get used to it.
Thinking of Deke, it came to mind that he’d disappeared. There was a lot of house, all of it easily accessible now with the stairs and all.
But I had dinner in the Crock-Pot, a pulled-pork recipe that had filled the house with delicious smells all day. Smells Deke had told me he was looking forward to experiencing.
And it was time to experience.
So where was he?
“Deke?” I called, moving farther into the space.
“Yo,” he called back, sounding like he was in the bedroom.
I headed that way but stopped when he emerged through the doorway to the hall.
He did this with snowflakes quickly melting in his hair and on his shoulders. And with the chill setting in, even if he worked inside still only wearing a tee, now he had a padded flannel shirt on over that.
He also emerged with a bottle of champagne in his hand and a Deluxe Home Store bag dangling from the other.
He moved right to the black, toffee and cream-veined marble-countertopped island that easily could seat six, even eight.