Chapter Seventeen

London

When we decided to move in together, there was no clear-cut answer as to which of our places to live in. Both had their pluses and minuses, but neither was ideal. We went back and forth, weighing pros and cons and getting nowhere fast. It was fine. It wasn't like we had to make the decision instantly, but also…now that we had decided to take this step forward, I wanted to do it already.

One night, we were hanging out at a local coffeehouse for a munch with some of our friends. The topic of where we planned to live came up, and someone mentioned buying a house together. It was one of those moments where we looked at each other and shook our heads. It was such a simple solution and one that had been right there in front of us the entire time.

We weren't sure why it hadn't crossed our minds before, but, once they said it, we were all in. We were in an ideal position because we didn't have to find housing. If anything, we had too much housing. This freedom let us take our time to find the perfect home for us.

If only it were as easy as that.

Each of our evenings was spent looking at the new listings, and our weekends suddenly became known to us as "Open House" days because that was what we did—we went from open house to open house. We tried only checking out places that looked magnificent in the pictures, but soon discovered that pictures lied. The number of times we'd get there and see the walls buckling where there had been water damage, or an awful scent that even the cookies the Realtor threw in the oven to smell delicious couldn't cover up. One house didn't even have a set of stairs to the basement, just a hole and the promise that a ladder would work.

Had we needed a place in a hurry, there were a couple that would've worked, but we didn't. And if we wanted would've worked , we'd have picked one of ours and been done with it.

One night, after dinner, I scrolled through the newly added listings and couldn't believe my eye. As in, I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating.

"Daddy!" He didn't come, so I said it louder. "Daddy!"

A half minute later, he came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his hair dripping wet. "You okay?"

"Oh, I forgot you were in the shower. Sorry." Just because I was excited didn't mean it was an emergency.

"Well, I'm out here now. Might as well tell me." He rubbed the towel over his head, drying his hair the best he could.

"I can wait."

Daddy side-eyed me.

"Fine. I think...I think I found the house for us. You don't have to like it, and I might be wrong, but I think maybe…"

"I'm glad you called me. Let me finish drying off, and I'll come look."

I scrolled through the pictures one at a time and did the three-dimensional tour while I waited for him. It was fascinating to me that the listing didn't mention what had me most excited. Based on some of the camera angles, it looked like maybe they were trying to hide it. Weird.

"Show me this house." He sat down beside me. "Is it another Victorian?"

We'd looked through quite a few of them. For some reason, they always caught my attention. And then we'd go for a tour, and I'd see all the upgrades that needed to be done, and back home we went. While I loved the idea of an older home, I wasn't up for a remodel. I wanted some place we could move into and start our life together.

"No. Not a Victorian. It's maybe mid-modern. I didn't check the date. It's got some unique features." Ones I hoped I was interpreting correctly. "What do you think? Is it? Maybe I'm seeing things."

I handed him the computer, and he tapped through all the pictures and then did the 360 tour.

"I think we need to make this appointment…tonight."

I wasn't imagining things.

Gray called our Realtor and asked them to arrange a viewing asap. Our agent called back less than an hour later, letting us know we could see it first thing in the morning.

I was so very nervous. This was the one. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did. This was our house.

The price of the house was good, almost too good. That meant, there was probably going to be competition for it. I didn't like dealing with making offers and counteroffers and all that, and I really didn't like bidding wars. They said not to pick your home with your heart, but to do so with your mind. Screw that noise. I didn't care if the house I fell in love with was going to double in 2.5 years or not. I cared about being the right space for us.

As we pulled up, there were multiple cars already there. My stomach dropped. I wasn't surprised. The house was in a good neighborhood and at a decent price. But understanding why they were present and wanting them there wasn't the same thing. If this place had what I thought it did, I wanted our offer to be first in the hope they accepted it.

But first, Gray and I needed to see it.

When our Realtor arrived, we all walked in together. She handed us the disclosures and started upstairs. "Let's check out the bedrooms first."

"Can we check out the kitchen first instead?" I asked. It was the room that had the clearest picture and, if I was going to be disappointed, I wanted it to happen right away.

"Sure," she said.

We passed a couple along our way, complaining to their Realtor about the exact thing we were there to see. It might be a draw for us, but we were the exception based on the pat answers he was giving them.

I squeezed Daddy's hand tight.

She brought us in to the open space and jumped immediately into her spiel about stainless steel appliances and real wood cabinets and all kinds of things that didn't matter to me.

What did, ran along the wall just above my shoulder height, then down, down, down as it reached the far side of the room and traveled into the next.

"Is that—" I didn't even get to finish.

"Removable? Yes. The person who lived here before was a train enthusiast. As I show you around, you'll see there are tracks in quite a few of the rooms. But from what I can see and what the listing agent has told me, it would be really easy to take them down and repair the walls, and it would probably add some good value to the house."

She didn't get it, but she didn't need to.

"Wait." I followed the tracks, dragging Daddy behind me. "Look, it goes outside!" And, sure enough, or at least onto the three-season porch. Technically, it wasn't outside, but at the same time, it kind of was.

It felt like I was living in Mr. Rogers' world, living the dream that childhood me had reveled in for years. Honestly, the dream that adult me still had, at least on my little side.

"This would patch up as well," she insisted. "Let me show you the first-floor laundry."

From there, she took us from room to room, being sure to let us know how easily the track removal would be every time we stumbled upon some more.

One of the bedrooms had train tracks going around the wall, about the height of either a five- or six-year-old. It was definitely someone who loved model trains, though not childhood trains. At least, not based on the track structure. This person took their hobby seriously, and I was loving it.

"So, what do you think?" she said as we ended up back where we started. "It's a bit of a fixer-upper with all the walls that need tending to, but the price is great."

"I think we need a few minutes," Daddy told her.

"Yes, of course. I'll just be in the other room." It was the first time we hadn't been an immediate no, and her smile told me she was excited about that. To be fair, she'd been working hard with us and so far hadn't earned a penny. This sale would make up for that.

"Daddy, can we get it?" I whispered.

"Oh, we're getting this house. And that room upstairs with the train tracks around it? We can fill it with a big train table, a train extravaganza." Gray was the best daddy ever. I hadn't been into model trains before, but this house changed everything.

"Now, what was it your friend said we're supposed to do? Play it cool, offer a little bit less, hope for the best?" There had been so much advice that night, and I hadn't paid as much attention as I should've.

"Yeah, they said all of that, but we're not doing any of it." He called the Realtor who came bouncing in. "We'd like to make a full-price offer."

Her jaw dropped.

"And we'll pay closing costs, if we can close this month."

"Let's go back to the office so we can write this up." Her body shouted that she was giddy. Her words remained professional. It was an interesting blend.

There was one other offer that day, somebody trying to lowball them, saying the train tracks were going to cost them a lot of money and time. That worked in our favor. We got the house and, because both of ours sold quickly, we ended up with barely a mortgage.

We did close within the month. Instead of a housewarming, our friends threw a huge-ass painting party. I'd never heard of one before, but what a difference it made to have all of us there, working at the same time. What could've been a multi-week project was completed the same day.

On the night we moved in, Daddy surprised me not only with the train table he mentioned the day we looked at the place but also with a replica train of the one we met on. He had someone come in and match it to our tracks in the kitchen, and the next morning while I was drinking my coffee, it greeted me, telling me I was home.

Gray was the best daddy ever, and, somehow, I got to call him mine.

I was the luckiest little conductor there ever was.