by Tia Souders
Gina waved her hands in the air. “This home was built prior to this whole open concept fad, but I suppose there might be some opening up you could do if you prefer.”
Mel laughed. “After living in my apartment with three kids, I think we could use separate space.”
They wandered into the living room first. Thick woodwork, painted a bright white, trimmed the room and windows. A soft, plush carpet covered the floors and seemed to be in decent shape, but the defining feature in the room were the built-ins. He could easily imagine Mel decorating them with framed photos of the kids.
“The owner was quite the handyman. He built those himself,” Gina said, noting Blake’s admiration.
He nodded in approval and checked Mel’s expression, which hadn’t changed since entering the house. Instead, the sparkle in her eye had only gotten brighter.
The home wasn’t huge by any means, but it was large enough Mel could fit a sectional or a sofa and love seat, enough space for all of them to congregate without being on top of each other.
They moved into the kitchen next, which was easily twice the size of Mel’s closet she called a kitchen now, and though the cabinets and counters were a little old and outdated, they had been well maintained over the years, so Mel could get away with leaving them for as long as she needed. A small island sat a couple feet from the stove, with copper pots hanging from a unit above it.
When Mel gasped, Blake turned toward the sound and saw her point. “A dishwasher,” she said with a reverence reserved for church.
Blake laughed, while the realtor looked at Mel like she was crazy. “The average New York apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher,” he explained, and Gina smiled.
“I can imagine with three kids you could get used to this, then,” Gina said.
Mel nodded, and after pursuing the pantry and dining area, they moved onto the rest of the home, each room just as lovely as the rest. By the time they finished and headed outside to the yard, Mel was like a vibrating ball of energy.
Emerald green grass greeted them, along with landscaping just beginning to burst to life. A small fire ring sat next to two wooden benches. The backyard was small and the neighboring homes were close-by, but it was perfect for them. If Blake lived there, he would install a small wooden fence so the kids could play without worry, and a dog could roam.
He swallowed at the thought and shook it off because he had no business thinking those things.
“Okay.” Gina clapped her hands. “Why don’t I let you have another look around. Feel free to go back inside for a second peek and discuss all you want. I’ll just be in the kitchen to answer any questions you might have. Take your time.”
“Thank you,” Mel said.
Blake nodded his thanks as well before Gina turned and headed for the patio door.
The second she left, Mel spun around to face him. “You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked, breaking his thoughts.
Actually, that had been the furthest thing from his thoughts. Lucky was more like it, and where that thought had come from, he had no idea. Blake loved the city. It was close to his business, and he had never pictured himself anywhere else. But now . . .
Blake frowned. “Why would I think that?”
“For moving way out here. Everyone who lives inside the city thinks I’m nuts.”
Blake shook his head. “Not at all. You want a different life for your family. There’s nothing wrong with that. Who cares what anyone else thinks if this is what you want?”
Mel worried her lip with her teeth and sighed. “If we have to stay in that apartment much longer, I’ll scream. I want them to have everything, you know? The commute won’t be so bad with the train, and my parents are practically forcing their car on me. They have two with them in Florida, and since they’re both retired, they insist they don’t need both. I don’t know how much truth to that there is, but my mother always said, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ So, I’ll take it.” She laughed softly. “I’ll actually have my own transportation to get around town. Is it pathetic how happy that makes me?”
“Not pathetic,” Blake whispered. Then, without thinking, he brought a hand up to her face and brushed aside a lock of her hair. His heart pinched as he imagined her here—alone, but happy with the kids—building a whole new life for herself he wouldn’t be a part of. He swallowed down the thought. “Mel, I watched you while you toured the house. You’re enamored with it, and I think it’s perfect for you guys.”
“Really?” Her toffee eyes brightened.
“Yeah.”
She shifted her gaze to the kids, who played by what appeared to be a little raised garden bed. “The kids would have a yard to run in. We could eventually get a dog and host birthday parties here and barbeques. In the summer, we can roast hot dogs over the fire and make smores. And they’ll have more space—bedrooms . . . two bathrooms, instead of one the size of a closet.” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I’m being emotional,” she croaked, then shook her head.
Blake reached out, gently taking her hands in his, and it hit him like a lightning bolt. What was an inkling before was now glaringly obvious. So much so, it hurt. He wanted all those things—this—everything around them. And, he wasn’t just referring to Mel, though he wanted her too. It was the picture she painted that he wanted—the total package, the kind of life she dreamed up for her family.
Blake didn’t want to spend his years in a sterile penthouse suite in the city. He never wanted glamorous parties and fancy dinners where he had to wear a stuffy, designer suit or a tux, shaking hands with people who looked down on him because of his birthright. He didn’t want a live-in nanny or a driver taking them everywhere they went. Jen was used to luxury and hiring help for just about everything. But he was a man who did everything himself, who found pride, accomplishment, and enjoyment in the journey. He wanted to share an equal hand with the woman he loved, raising their kids themselves, in a house they could make a home. He wanted all the things Mel mentioned and more—quaint family dinners with homecooked meals, snowball fights in the winter, and Christmas lights in the yard. Blake wanted to teach his kids to ride a bike down the street, have family movie nights with popcorn, go trick or treating in their own neighborhood until his bones ached from the chill.
He and Jen would never work. The revelation, the complete certain of it, hit him like an anvil to the chest. Because no matter what sacrifices each of them made to make the other happy, the futures they desired were so different. If they forced it to work, they’d wind up miserable and hating each other. He’d resent her after a while because her family would never accept him. He’d wind up living a predictable life in the city where his kids learned to love a nanny more than himself. And if Jen bent for him—for the life he wanted—she’d hate every part of it. Even if Jen gave up the chef, the driver, and the nanny, Blake knew she’d never move out of Manhattan. He couldn’t imagine her making mac and cheese and hot dogs for lunch, just because it’s what the kids wanted, bandaging booboos, helping with homework, or taking their kids to the park. In fact, Blake wasn’t even convinced she wanted kids because every time the subject came up, she brushed it off.
His chest tightened and he swallowed, taking a step away from Mel and dropping her hands.
A look of concern flickered in her eyes, as Blake turned away from her and moved a couple paces away. He ran a hand down his face as a newer, even stronger revelation hit him. This whole time, he denied his feelings for Mel because he thought it was the only wedge in his relationship. But the truth was clear. He cared about Jen, but he wasn’t in love with her. He couldn’t imagine her as his wife ten years from now because it meant living the life she wanted, not one they could build together. But someone like Mel . . . She was the type of woman he could see a future with.
He ruffled a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes closed.
What was he thinking? He hardly even knew Mel, yet he saw himself happy here
in this house with her.
“Blake?” Mel said, her voice hesitant. “Is it the house? Is there something wrong?”
Blake reluctantly opened his eyes. His gaze fell to Brady, Peter, and Kinsley, chasing each other around the yard, their screams echoing in the otherwise quiet afternoon. The sight of it made his chest ache.
He needed to get it together, so he inhaled and mustered a smile before he turned back to Mel. “No. Sorry, I just . . . I love it. I think it’s perfect, and you’re crazy if you don’t make an offer.”
The corners of Mel’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Don’t wait.”
Her smile faded slightly. “Well, I have to just double check with my parents. I spoke about it with them briefly, and they applied with me for the preapproval, but I’d have to make sure they’re still onboard.”
Blake’s brow furrowed. “Surely with your job title and new salary, you’d get a loan.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Well, when Craig left, he also gifted me a hefty credit card bill that I never quite recovered from. Needless to say, my credit score withheld some damage, so despite my job, I’m pretty sure I won’t get a good loan without a little help. Even my preapproval has them co-signing.”
Blake’s jaw tightened. Could her ex have been any more of a deadbeat? “I’ll co-sign.”
“What?” Mel took a step back. “Blake, no, I—”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Mel stared at him a moment, probably wondering if he’d gone nuts. Maybe he had.
“I can’t let you do that. It’s a very big deal, and we . . . What if I lose my job and default on the loan? You’d be responsible.”
Blake shrugged, running a hand over the back of his neck. Maybe she had a point, and it was crazy, but. . . “I don’t care,” he said.
“Blake . . .”
“Just think about it. Sleep on it, and if your parents can’t sign for some reason, it’s an option. I’d just hate to see you lose this house. I wouldn’t wait more than twenty-four hours. I might not know much about real estate in Highland Park, but based on the other two gems we saw before this, I don’t think it’ll last. Especially if what Gina said about them accepting aggressive offers is true.”
When she said nothing, just continued to stare at him like he was dumb, he added, “Come on, Mel. Please. Just give it some thought. I’ve got no family, nothing tying me down. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged.
“Except a girlfriend who you may propose to.”
Blake didn’t even blink as he said, “It’s not an issue.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her and waved her toward the house. “Why don’t you take the kids and go back in. Tell Gina you’re going to work up an offer and will let her know in the morning. I have a phone call to make, and then I’ll meet you back at the car.”
Mel nodded, if reluctantly, and turned to wrangle the kids, while Blake plucked his phone from his pocket. He exhaled a long breath, staring out at the large maple as he clutched the device. Then he dialed Jen’s number and listened to it ring.
It went straight to voicemail, so he waited for the beep, then left a message. “Jen, it’s Blake. Listen, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this last week, and I think we should talk. Let me know when you get this.” He clicked off, noting how it was probably the first time he had ever ended a message without saying ‘I love you.’ But he knew what he needed to do.
MEL
ON THE RIDE HOME, BLAKE was quiet. Mel assumed he was lost in his thoughts. Hopefully, not because he regretted his offer to her. It wasn’t like she actually entertained taking him up on his offer to co-sign. She didn’t. But if he retracted his offer after the fact, that would be embarrassing and a little awkward for them both.
Mel peered over at him out of the corner of her eye. One hand gripped the steering wheel, while the other rubbed over the scruff on his jaw. A tiny crease formed between his brow that let Mel know that he was deep in thought about something.
Mel cleared her throat, readying herself to break the silence, when Brady asked, “Are we gonna live there, Mommy?”
Mel twisted in her seat to look at him and smiled. “I don’t know. I’d like to,” she said, careful not to get his hopes up, least not hers.
“What about Mr. Blake? Is he gonna live there with us?” Peter asked.
Mel nearly choked and glanced at Blake as her face flushed. The hand that had been rubbing his jaw paused and a small smile curved the corner of his mouth.
“Uh . . . honey, we talked about this. Remember? Mr. Blake is only with us a little while longer, and then he has to return to his real job.”
“But I thought he might want to be our dad,” Peter said.
Mel’s stomach sunk. It was amazing how one innocent question could bulldoze her heart.
She swallowed through the pain, her face burning. She didn’t dare look over at Blake as she forced a smile and focused on sounding cheerful, when she said, “No, silly. Why would you think that?”
Peter’s shoulder slumped in defeat, and he turned his eyes toward the window. “He seems like a dad,” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” Kinsley chimed in. “He plays with us and makes good mac and cheese and does funny voices in books. He’s at our house a lot, and he seems to like us.”
Mel’s smile faded as her heart lurched. Oh, to live in the world of a four-year-old where silly voices and pasta with processed cheese were the prerequisites for the making of a father.
Mel shifted in her seat, uncomfortable and at a loss for words. If a giant fault line in the earth opened up and swallowed her whole, she’d say a prayer of thanks. When she tried to speak, all she managed was a dry squeak.
Beside her, Blake chuckled. “Guys, give your mom a break. And I might not be your nanny anymore, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll visit all the time, I’ll still do funny voices, and make you mac and cheese. Got it?” He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched as they all bobbed their heads, seeming appeased.
“Thanks,” Mel murmured, and she wondered if what he said was true. Because how could he make such promises when he had his own life back in the city?
CHAPTER TWENTY
BLAKE
When Jen finally called him back that afternoon, it was with relief Blake set up a time to meet at her apartment. He wasn’t the kind of coward to end a relationship over the phone, nor would he put her through a breakup in a public place. But this was the right thing. He was sure of it. Mel or no Mel, his relationship with Jen would never work long-term. Not when the things they wanted out of life were too different.
He rang her doorbell as nerves jumped in his chest. A moment later, she ushered him inside. She wore a silk blouse, pencil skirt, heels, and a cautious expression. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Their last outing with her friends hadn’t exactly been intimate, and they hadn’t fully reconciled since the botched dinner party. Usually, regardless of the spat, Blake made amends in order to appease her and put them back on solid ground. It was easier that way. Besides, he liked making her happy, even if it meant bending to her will. But not this time. This time, there was no smoothing the choppy waters.
He followed her into the cavernous living room, her heels clicking on the floor as they went. The air held a hint of orange and clove, a sign her cleaning crew had been there that morning. The marble counters in the kitchen gleamed as she paused in front of the giant island—at least three times the size of the one in the home Mel had looked at—and asked if he wanted wine.
“No, I’m good.” Blake shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward and unsure of how to start the conversation they needed to have.
“Did you just come from the shop?” she asked, frowning at his casual attire.
He glanced down at his t-shirt and jeans. It was maybe the first time he showed up in something so simple. “Uh, no.” He didn’t offer her further explanation, even though a part of him wanted to. After all, this was how most people dressed
in their downtime.
He waited as she poured herself a glass of white wine, then motioned toward the settee in the great room.
Once they were settled next to each other, Jen surprised him by saying, “I’ve thought about it, and I’m sorry I ever let you go along with the nanny thing my father suggested. I should’ve stood up to him. I see that now.”
Blake blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected an apology from her. “That means a lot,” he said. “Thanks.”
She nodded, then met his eyes and grinned. “So . . . now that we have that out of the way, I thought I’d call Clarence and have him whip us up a special dinner.” She trailed her fingers over his t-shirt. “Something nice, just the two of us.”
Blake blanched. Of course she thought it’d be this easy. Blake had always made things easy, and they’d never really and truly gotten in a fight before. This past week of tension had been the closest they’d come to a blowout fight. Funny how most of it was silence.
“Jen . . .” he started, but clearly she had her own idea of how today would go because she inched closer and grinned.
“Maybe afterward, you could clean up, and we could go out for drinks.” She trailed a finger down his arm, glancing up at him from underneath her lashes. “Or we could stay in if you prefer,” she purred.
Blake bristled at the suggestion he “clean up,” but tamped down his annoyance as he said, “Jen, I didn’t come here about last Saturday, or for dinner.” Her smile faded, but he plunged on, “We’ve both known since we started dating that we came from two different worlds.” He offered her a soft smile, hoping in vain it might somehow soften the blow of what he was about to say. “And I think I realized this past week, or maybe I’ve always known but hadn’t wanted to see it, that this will never work, you and I”—he motioned between them—“at least not long-term.”