Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
We’d discussed selling it, but property was always a good investment, so Bas decided to hire a management company to rent it out instead. I thought it was a good idea. I didn’t want him to sell it and regret it later when things weren’t so raw.
We’d moved into the living room and weren’t sure if Bas wanted us to leave any of the photos out of storage, so I went looking for him.
I found him in Josie’s room sitting on the stool in front of the vanity.
“Hey, handsome,” I said quietly. “Decide to do some primping?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “Couldn’t decide if I should part my hair on the left or right.”
“Your hair isn’t parted,” I reminded him.
“Shit, that’s right.”
I stopped in front of him and ran my hands through his hair.
“I was afraid it would feel like she was still in here or somethin’,” he said, dropping his head forward to rest against my chest. “But she’s not.”
“No.”
“Just feels…nostalgic in here. Same with my mom’s room.”
“They’ve moved way beyond us,” I said gently. “And they’re together if you believe in that kind of thing.”
“Do you?” he asked, tilting his head back to meet my eyes.
“Yeah, I do,” I replied.
“Yeah, me too.”
“I came to find you because we were wondering if you want to pack the photos on the walls or take them home with us.”
“What do you think?”
“You should go out and get some of your favorites, and we can hang them in the apartment,” I said, smiling. “We’ll save the rest of them for the house.”
“Works for me.”
We left the bedroom hand in hand, but instead of going to the living room, Bas led me into the kitchen. He paused just inside.
“We can go through the rest of it and see if we want to keep any of it for the house later,” he said. “But what do you think about the kitchen table?”
It was some kind of dark wood and seated at least six people. The base was just two thick pedestals, and the matching chairs had ladder backs. Classic.
“Do you think we can fit it in the apartment?” I asked.
“We can make it work.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s gorgeous.” I shrugged. “And we’ll need one, even if it doesn’t fit our place now.”
“Good,” he said, swinging me into his arms. “’Cause I carved my name into the underside already.”
“How old were you when you did that?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Ten. Bernice was pissed.”
“I bet.”
“I think it was her parents’,” he said more seriously. “They died before she ever took me in.”
“A family heirloom,” I replied, holding his face in my hands.
“Might be the only one I ever have.”
“Then it’s going in our house,” I vowed.
“Well, the table and that bowl Myla was holding,” he said, his lips turning up in a smile as he leaned down. “That looked pretty old.”
“They used to make shit that lasts,” I replied dramatically.
“We’re gonna make shit that lasts,” he murmured against my mouth.
“Hell yeah, we are.”
I squealed as he lifted me off my feet and spun me in a slow circle.
I never imagined that I’d see joy in Bas’s eyes in the middle of the childhood home he’d run from, but it was there.
The past had lost its teeth, and the future was fucking bright.