Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Don’t be a dick, Will.”
He chuckles. “I’m kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”
“Yes.” I grab my bag and hike the strap onto my shoulder. “But I’m afraid you or Fitz will open your stupid mouth and joke to Ozzy’s face before you’ve developed enough of a relationship with him to do so. And then he’ll knock you on your ass, and I don’t want to play referee.”
“You can’t possibly think he’d knock me on my ass.”
“Well, he’s not a black belt in tai chi, but I think he’d make you bleed.”
“Now who’s being a dick? And for the record, if there were a belt system in tai chi, I’d be a black belt.”
I giggle the rest of the way up the stairs while a fight between Will and Ozzy, which will never happen, plays in my head. I honestly don’t know who would win that fight, but I love ruffling Will’s feathers.
The following day, I close on my house and send Ozzy a picture of my keys.
Maren: MINE!
Ozzy: Congratulations! Can’t wait to see you
When I pull into the driveway at what is now just Will’s house, Fitz’s black truck is backed into his old spot, and Jamie’s carrying my folded metal bed frame out the front door.
“Is Fitz in Idaho?” I hop out of my car and help her slide it into the truck bed.
“Yep. It’s just me,” she says. “Fitz wanted me to wait for him to get home tomorrow, but I know firsthand how freaking excited you are, so let’s do this. We are two very capable women.” She hugs me, and we jump up and down together, squealing.
“I’m a homeowner!”
She giggles. “Me too!”
“Okay, let’s get the rest.” I link my arm with hers and pull her toward the house. “If everything is moved now, I can go furniture shopping this afternoon.”
We load all my belongings into the back of Fitz’s pickup and my RAV. I also thought I’d need Will’s Bronco, but I overestimated my possessions. It’s kind of depressing that I’m in my thirties with so few belongings.
“Ready?” Jamie asks as I stand in the middle of my empty bedroom.
“Did you feel like this when you packed up your things? Did you feel like everything ugly and everything beautiful happened within the walls of this house?” Tears burn my eyes.
Jamie reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “Close your eyes.”
Tears break free when I do.
“See? Brandon’s still there. This house doesn’t hold memories. You hold them. No matter where you are, he’ll be with you as you make new ones.”
Sniffling, I nod.
Less than two hours later, I’m moved into my three-bedroom house with a weathered front porch and weed-infested yard. But who cares? I bought it for the tree house in the backyard.
“You have nothing,” Jamie says before laughing at my empty main floor.
“I have beautiful hardwood floors.” I narrow my eyes at the heavily scratched and moderately faded oak planks. “I have hardwood floors that can potentially be beautiful.”
Jamie laughs. “I think you should hold off buying furniture until you do some renovating. Like, maybe just get one thing. Maybe a sofa. Then you’ll have less to move and clean when it’s all done.”
“You’re probably right.” I wipe my hand along the worn laminate kitchen counter. “I guess that leaves more time for lunch.”
“My treat,” Jamie says. “And we can text the testosterone machines and let them know we did everything already.”
I nod slowly. It’s not a fancy house. I have a lot of work to do, but it’s mine. And it takes only a second to imagine it filled with a life.
A handsome mechanic.
A young, curly-haired girl.
And a cat.
After lunch, I fall in love with a cerulean blue velvet sofa on clearance. So we muscle it into the back of Fitz’s truck and head home.
“It’s perfect,” Jamie says when we plop onto it and stare at the brick hearth.
“I own a home,” I whisper at the tail end of a long sigh.
“And a tree house.”
I giggle. “Speaking of my cat’s house, I must get him.” I glance at my watch and text Ozzy.
Maren: Is it okay if I pick up my cat now?
“Is Ozzy the one?” Jamie asks.
I stare at my phone while waiting for Ozzy to reply. “In theory, yes.”
“In reality?”
I read Ozzy’s message.
Ozzy: Sure. I’ll call and have Lola watch for you so you don’t have to go inside.
“In reality, I feel like I have to make myself small to fit into his world. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you.” I toss my phone onto the cushion between us and adjust my ponytail.
“That’s sad, Maren.”
“I know.” I shrug a shoulder. “It feels like bad timing, but how many things in life happen at the perfect time, or what we perceive to be the perfect time? Do you think you met Fitz at the perfect time?”