I loop her hand in the crook of my elbow and she takes a few wobbly steps. Before I remove the blindfold, I take a good look at her. I thought I’d never get a chance to do this, and it’s moments like this I’ll never take for granted.
“You trust me, right?” I ask.
“With my life,” she answers quickly as she tilts her head and I know it’s killing her to know what I have up my sleeve.
I stand behind her and assess what she’ll see before I remove the piece of cloth from her eyes.
“You ready?” I ask.
There’s a bit of hesitancy in her nod. The ocean breeze blows her soft blue summer dress, the scent of her sweet perfume hits my nose, and her hair tickles my face as I kiss her bare shoulder.
I untie the blindfold, tuck it in my back pocket, and remind myself to use it later tonight so I can get a little kinky with her.
I step in front of her as she flutters her eyes open. When she regains her vision, I step to the side so she can see what’s in front of her. I give her a minute to take it all in and wonder what she thinks of my childhood home.
“This is the house I grew up in. The renovations were finished a couple of weeks ago. What do you think?”
“It’s stunning,” she says as I stand behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.
We take a moment to survey the house.
The pristine white Victorian home, with light blue shutters, reminds me of her brother’s home in Kansas. Colorful flowers are planted alongside the manicured lawn. A two-seater swing floats in the corner of the wraparound porch and concrete pots with green plants on each side of the large dark blue door greet us.
The designer I hired said it’s southern-beach-house, meets old-world charm, whatever that means. Just as long as Delilah likes it, that’s all that matters.
She takes a few more steps and looks down at the stones that pave the walkway to the lower step of the porch.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asks.
I kiss her cheek then look at the different shaped soft yellow stones haphazardly placed making the perfect pathway that leads up to three steps and to the white house.
“Uh-huh.” I nod, grinning she caught that detail. “Your very own yellow brick road.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Why did Dorothy follow the yellow brick road?” I ask.
“To find her way home,” she answers.
“Exactly.”
Her breath hitches as she quickly turns to face me. “Brody, what are you saying?”
“I want you to move in with me. In this house.”
She looks up at the house, then back at me with those breathtaking topaz eyes. What is she thinking? Is it too soon to ask?
“I love you so much . . . But this . . .” Her eyes dart back to the house again. “This is . . . I can’t believe . . .” She looks back at me as tears well in her eyes. “Yes.”
“Did you say yes?”
She nods. “Yes, I’ll move in with you,” she says as she cry-laughs.
Thank fucking Christ! I let out an exasperated breath. I pick her up and swing her around.
After a few spins, I set her down. I frame her face with both my hands and press my lips to hers. I move to the corner of her mouth, to her cheek, then pepper kisses down her neck to her bare shoulder.
God, I love this woman and I don’t want this moment to end, but I want to show her the rest of the house.
As we walk up the path, my mind is going a million miles an hour. What I am about to show her solidifies everything I want to be to her and how I want her to feel when she enters.
I open the door and all the lights and lamps are on. It’s welcoming and inviting. The designer did an amazing job, bringing it up to date and adding all the details I requested.
The wooden floors are refinished, and Dee laughs when I tell her I’m game for re-enacting the story of my dirty socks when I slid across the surface, only clad in my boxer briefs this time.
As we continue down the hall, she observes the first picture on the wall. My mom and dad on their wedding day. And there’s something about how she studies the picture as if she is searing it to memory and taking in all the small details of the photo.
She smiles at the next picture. It’s of me and Avery, holding Mom’s hand.
Then there’s a picture of us at Dylan’s engagement party. Delilah in her yellow sundress is sitting on my lap, her arms around my shoulder, and I’m holding a beer.
Then the next one is of Dad and me, just before I left for the navy with the numbers 27:17 embossed on the frame.
I draw in a deep breath and she gives me the time I need. It’s been three months since I buried my father. And I miss him. I glance over at Dee and remember when Dad asked her to read an excerpt from his journal. It was the day he remembered me and the day he said he was proud of me.
I take her hand and give her a tour of our house. The three bedrooms and master suite upstairs. She especially loves the large tub built for two. Then I show her the office, den, and the newly renovated kitchen with top of the line appliances.
We make our way to the living room. I quickly look around and smile at the little feminine touches, a few sunflower tchotchkes to personalize the coziness of the space. She walks throughout the room, her fingers glide over the top of the sofa table, surveying more pictures of us, family, and friends.
She points to the sofa and I stifle a chuckle when she notices the sunflower throw pillows I took from her house. The same ones she used to cover her body when I picked her up on our first date.
I cradle her face with my hands, wanting to make sure I’m not dreaming, and to calm my nerves. I pull out an envelope from my back pocket and clear my throat.
“This house holds a lot of amazing memories. After we buried Dad, I found this letter in one of his journals. It was addressed to me and this is the perfect moment to read it. May I?”
Delilah nods and softly smiles as we sit on the sofa.
My dearest Brody,
If you are reading this, know that I am in heaven and watching over you and your sister, and next to me is your mother painting our lives on a new canvas.
I want you to know that I loved your mother very much. She was my soulmate. But we let our work consume us and it ruined what we had.
When you find your soulmate, seize the moment! Make her your priority, not the option. She’s going to shake things up. She’ll take you out of your own routine, but you’ll make a new routine together.
Don’t be like me. Don’t take life for granted and don’t sleep alone in the dark.
Your soulmate is the one that will brighten your days and nights.
Be each other’s sunrise and sunset.
If there is anything I taught you in life, I hope that it’s being a man with dignity, loyalty, and respect. But most of all to love her unconditionally, cherish her always, and never give up.
I love you, son. ~Love, Dad
I take a breath, choked up by reading it again. My eyes veer up to a painting above the mantel. It’s a sunset setting over the ocean’s horizon and a house rests on a cliff. This house.
Delilah stands and moves closer to examine the watercolors my mom stroked on the canvas many years ago. She narrows her eyes and reads the inscription. His sunrise, her sunset.
I fold the paper, stuff it back in the envelope, and place it on the coffee table. I stand and wrap my arms around Delilah. Her back to my front, resting my chin on her head. I breathe her in. Her peach scented shampoo and the unique perfume Jenna made just for her.