120. Hannah

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY

I eye the pile of clothes on the bed.

Maddox got out of the shower first, telling me to take my time and that he'd put comfortable clothes out for me on the bed.

He did.

But they're… well, they aren't mine. But they certainly aren't his.

It's a soft jersey dress in dark blue, a pair of panties, and a matching bra. All in my size.

I have no idea when he got these, but I pull the items on, preferring them to the stuffy work clothes I was wearing.

I'm pulling my hair free from the dress's collar when I spot something orange on the nightstand.

It's a thing of Tic Tacs, just sitting out. Next to the lamp.

I pick it up and shake two into my palm.

Did he remember from before? Or from our kiss inside his car, when he put his mouth against mine for the first time since before?

I've always liked these. We had them in the study room that night. I have them in my purse now too.

Setting the little container down, I suck on the tiny candies and turn around toward the door.

But again. I stop.

When we first got here, the room seemed brighter, but I credited that to my racing heart. And when we woke up just a bit ago, the sun was shining through the windows, and I associated the brightness with the sunlight.

But it's not just the sun making a difference. The walls are a different color.

I step closer, reaching out to touch the pale yellow surface.

Maddox had the bedroom painted? When?

My eyes move to the four large black square frames mounted on the wall that I swear weren't there before.

Inside each frame is a black and white photograph.

I move to them, and that feeling of tenderness tightens around my throat.

It's the HOP University campus.

A photo of the quad. Where I first saw Maddox.

A photo of the economics building. Where I ran into Maddox.

A photo of the football stadium. Where I watched my first game.

A photo of the library. Where we shared our first everything.

I press my hand to my chest.

"When?" I ask the question to the empty room.

This man…

I hurry out of the room, needing to be near him.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I release the banister and eye the fresh flowers displayed on the small antique table.

Has that little table always been there?

What is happening in this house?

I hear movement as I near the kitchen and find Maddox closing the fridge.

"Hey, when did you…" I trail off.

On the island, next to another bouquet of flowers, is the yellow mug from the office. The one I used on Friday.

Then I step closer.

It's not the same one. The yellow glaze is slightly darker.

Pinpricks dance across my ribs. "Where did you get this?"

When Maddox doesn't answer, I glance up to see him sipping out of an identical mug, only his is blue.

"Ordered them online," he answers, then dips his head to the mug on the counter. "I made it decaf, but I can make you some regular coffee if you'd like."

I stare at the mug. Then I stare up at him.

"Maddox, what is —"

The doorbell rings.

Maddox smiles at me as he sets his coffee mug down next to mine. "I'll get that."

He presses a kiss to my forehead, then walks past me to answer the door.

I look back at the mugs. Then to the flowers.

With my heart thudding, I move around the island and pull open the cupboard where he keeps his dishes.

Everything is different.

The mugs are all handmade. The cups are no longer all the same plain glass but rather antique looking with raised polka dots on the sides. The serving dishes are pieces of art.

I love every item. It's exactly what I'd get if we had the space and money.

I close the cupboard and step back.

Mom's voice echoes through the house, followed by a laugh that could only belong to Chelsea.

I plan to go and meet them, but then I see the living room. And the now familiar sense of surprise thumps against my chest.

The couch, which is nice but had previously been bare, is covered in throw pillows of all colors and sizes. Blankets are folded on the coffee table alongside another vase, this one overflowing with roses.

And under the coffee table is a new massive rug. It's plush and red, and I want to walk on it.

But as I cross the room to do just that, I see more.

On the end table, hanging off the side lamp, is a necklace. A tacky plastic necklace made of little baseballs.

I can't fight against my tears any longer.

My eyes fill and spill over.

"Come on into the kitchen," Maddox says as their footsteps enter the large space.

"Hey, Aunt Hannah."

I lift my hand but keep my back to them for another second. "Hey."

"I have different cans of pop and tea and stuff in the fridge," Maddox tells them. "Help yourself."

"Thank you." Mom's voice is full of smiles. "Oh, look at these flowers! I just love flowers."

"I know," Maddox replies, but he says it quietly from behind me.

I turn, wiping at my eyes. "What is going on?"

His smile is soft, and he holds his hand out to me. "Let me show you."

I slide my palm into his. "Show me what?"

Maddox lifts my hand and kisses it gently. "The rest of it." He turns, and I move with him. "You guys want the tour?"

Chelsea nods as her eyes bounce around the giant kitchen.

Maddox points at things, and Mom makes sounds of enjoyment.

He takes us to the basement and shows us the gym and the movie room.

He walks us around the main level.

Chelsea gives me the side-eye each time I sniffle. Each time I see another item that has to be new. Each time we come across another collection of fresh flowers.

Finally, we move up the staircase to the upper level. But Maddox doesn't let go of my hand. He hasn't this whole time. And when we reach the top of the stairs, he squeezes my fingers.

He points toward his room. "That's the way to the owner's suite. But this way"— he points in the other direction— "is the next stop on our tour."

Mom and Chelsea turn and walk ahead of us.

The first guest room door is open, and Mom steps through.

When I hear her gasp, I look up at Maddox. And he's already looking down at me.

"Oh, wow." Mom keeps talking as she moves deeper into the room.

Chelsea steps into the doorway, then glances back at us.

I have to know.

Keeping hold of Maddox's hand, I move toward the guest room.

A room that should be painted white.

A room that should be nice but plain and unused.

A room that shouldn't be painted a gentle lilac.

A room that shouldn't have floral bedding and grand antique furniture.

A room that shouldn't have potted blooming plants filling the windowsill.

It's like I have no control over my eyes anymore as emotions continue to swamp me.

Mom goes into the bathroom, exclaiming over the pretty fixtures and what must be more flowers on the vanity.

Chelsea stands in the middle of the room and looks up at Maddox.

He dips his chin. "Last door on the right."

We follow her.

I glance into the next room we pass, another guest room that's the same as it was before. Perfect and plain.

Then we pass an office, and I slow, seeing that there's a second desk. I stop. It's not a desk. It's a poker table.

A sound leaves me as Chelsea darts into the third room.

Holding my breath, I follow her into the room, squeezing Maddox's fingers tightly.

The room is perfect. But it's not plain.

The bed isn't simple. It's a four-poster frame made of dark iron and draped in pale pink fabric.

The floor isn't bare wood. It's covered in thick colorful rugs.

The room isn't filled with empty space. It has a pair of giant beanbags piled with pillows and blankets.

It has a built-in bookcase.

It has art on the walls.

It has lamps on nightstands.

The room isn't plain. It's ready to be someone's favorite place.

Chelsea walks through the room, dragging her hand over the fluffy bedspread, stopping at the far corner in front of the beanbags. Beside the TV mounted to the wall, she traces her fingers over the gaming systems set up below it.

It was specifically designed to be Chelsea's favorite place.

My niece turns back to face us, hands on her hips.

She moves her gaze up to the beaded chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "That's cool."

Maddox shifts beside me. "Reminded me of those baseball necklaces."

Chelsea smirks. "Kinda does."

"Maddox…" I whisper.

"No one lives here?" Chelsea points at the floor. "In this room."

"Not yet." Maddox shifts his hold on my hand so he can turn to face me. "I'd like to change that though."

"Maddox, you —"

He shakes his head. "I'm tired of living in an empty house."

"But…"

He lifts my free hand and presses it to his chest. "I love you, Hannah. I love you, and I'm not missing another fifteen years. I don't want to miss another fifteen days. I want you with me."

"I'll always be with you," I whisper through more tears. "But—"

"I understand you not wanting to work with me. I don't agree with it, because I want to see you at the office every day. But I'd rather see you at home every night." He tips his head toward the room. "And I won't split up your family. I'd never dream of it."

Maddox lets go of my hand to brush away the tears that just won't stop.

"Your house is perfect," he tells me. "And if you'll let me, I'd move in there with you three. But we'd need a bigger bed in your room because that atrocity of a mattress just won't do. I don't care whose house it is. I just want to be with you."

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Before I can say anything, Mom walks into the room and pats Maddox on the back. "You did a fine job with my room, Maddy. I'll move in tomorrow." Then she turns and walks back down the hall.

Maddox's shoulders relax the smallest amount.

I was so caught up in my own stunned feelings I hadn't thought about how nervous he must be about showing this to the three of us.

Chelsea moves to the bathroom and flips on the light.

She slowly turns back to face us, her eyebrows high on her head. "My own bathroom?"

Maddox lifts a big shoulder. "Yeah."

Chelsea whistles. "I dunno, Aunt Hannah. He's kind of a dork, but this place is nice as hell."

Maddox snorts, and I feel another layer of tension fall away from him.

"But our house…"

Chelsea drops onto one of the beanbags, melting into the cushion. "Our house has no privacy. And did you see that kitchen?" She lifts her head to look at me. "You know how nice it would be to bake in there? And Max already asked for more cookies for Christmas."

Max. Because Maddox video called from Arizona, and his brother personally thanked Chelsea for his number nineteen cookie. Before he then asked for more.

"And." Chelsea points a finger at us. "No offense, but if you guys are gonna be all lovey dovey, we're gonna need a big house. I don't want to see that." Her finger twirls.

Maddox nods. "I understand."

"And did I say our own bathrooms?" Chelsea repeats.

"Don't forget the pool."

Chelsea jumps up and moves to the window. She puts her hands on the glass. "Aunt Hannah, there's a pool." I honestly hadn't even noticed. "I can invite friends over."

"No boys," Maddox says.

Chelsea turns so we can see her roll her eyes. "See? He's already being an annoying parental figure."

My hand is still on Maddox's chest, so I feel his jolt at her words.