“There are good memories in here too,” I told her.
“I know, and for the record, I can live anywhere, Sebastian. As long as it’s with you. The apartment is fine—I’m happy there. I just don’t want you to regret that we didn’t even consider keeping the house.”
I half-sat on the windowsill, putting us at the same height. “You want to stay?”
“I love it here.” She took a small plastic bag of gummy bears from her back pocket. It was unlikely she even realized she’d done it. She ate some, chewing as she paced. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. I had my answer—she was in brainstorming-mode, and she was serious about this.
“I’ve learned so much about your childhood and your mom over the past several months,” she said. “And we’ve put our blood, sweat, and tears into making it perfect. We have the money to buy out your sister, but would she be okay with that?”
I followed Georgina with my eyes. My life had done a one-eighty in the past year. Each day with her was a gift, an adventure, and a challenge. We bickered as much as we bantered, made love as often as we went head to head. She’d stitched up what I’d thought was a permanent hole in my heart from my mother’s death. It was a wound that would never truly heal, but now it ached less with Georgina around.
“We can even add a sound booth for you,” she said, scribbling something on her pad.
Not only did she have healing powers, but she’d encouraged me too. My final piece in Modern Man’s February issue had gotten me enough press to launch a successful men’s lifestyle podcast. We covered everything from sports to health to politics. I was now receiving regular invitations to athletic and entertainment events as a guest star or commentator. I even doled out the occasional piece of advice—which I always ran by Georgina first.
I grabbed her hand, pulling her back in front of me. Running some of her soft, silky hair through my palm, my heart clenched. I loved her. I wanted to spend my life with her. I wanted to make her happy. “It’s a big commitment,” I said, cupping the side of her face and thumbing the corner of her mouth. “It’s not like Opal and me moving into your little apartment, cramping your style. There, we have a landlord, and if things go south, I can just move my boxes out. But getting a house together . . .”
She took my wrist, shifting her face to kiss my palm. “You can’t scare me away, Sebastian.”
“I’m just pointing out—after owning a place together, there’s really only one direction to go,” I said. “If I propose the idea of a proposal, is that the same as asking you to be the future Mrs. Quinn?”
She wrinkled her nose playfully. “You don’t have to worry about that, because my answer would be no.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. She wasn’t going to fight me on this, was she? Because I’d win, hands down. “We’ve talked about getting married. This can’t be news to you.”
“I don’t want to be Mrs. Quinn,” she clarified. “But Georgina Quintanilla? Well, that has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
In the same instant, a sense of possessiveness and a surge of love overwhelmed me. I hoped my mom was looking down on us now, proud of the strong, kind woman I’d chosen to be by my side. A woman worthy of being a Quintanilla. I brought Georgina closer to me, lifting her chin with my knuckle to tilt her mouth up to mine. “I can definitively say I’ve never wanted anything more. Well, except maybe what comes after the wedding.”
She smiled brilliantly. “Let’s start with the house. Then we can fill it.”
“Are you suggesting I knock you up?”
“At least twice,” she requested. “One Yankee and one Red Sock.”
I rolled my eyes. “We don’t refer to our individual selves as a red sock.”
“It’s more complimentary than how I would refer to a Sox fan.” She batted her lashes, trying to suppress a smile. Deep dimples formed in her cheeks. “Oh, and two kids means when we argue, we have one on each side.”
“Two kids,” I repeated. Despite our joking, my voice was thick, love and longing coursing through me. A house full of family, dogs, and memories that spanned two generations. Fuck me, I hadn’t let myself dare to want more than I’d already found in Georgina. Hadn’t let myself think I could stay here, much less desire it. I’d thought the right thing to do was to let the house go and move on. But as Georgina filled my head with ideas, the way she’d filled my heart with love, and would fill my walls with colored-pencil measurements, I realized something special had happened over the past seven months without me even noticing.
Georgina and I had come home.
The End