Better Than Home: Better Than Good Novella

I kissed his forehead and gently pushed him away. “But we have to proceed cautiously.”

He shook his head emphatically. “No, no, no. Screw caution. We have to be quick. You heard Chandler. Other people have seen that beauty. They want to move into our house. Our house. We must stop them.” He pounded his fist on his open palm like a judge calling order in a court.

I pulled my sunglasses off to give him the full effect of my eye roll. “Aaron…”

“That house was a warm hug. I could picture us in every room. I could envision the remodeled kitchen, where the Christmas tree should go, and I swear I could see our future kids’ rooms and—”

“Aaron.”

“I know, I know. I’m getting carried away.” He sighed, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “I need you to step in and stop my madness, ’cause if we walk into my parents’ house right now, there’s a decent chance I’ll tell them we’re going to be neighbors. Reel me back to Earth, Matty.”

I chuckled softly. “I don’t want to. I really liked it too.”

He threw his fist in the air triumphantly and let out a whoop of joy. He sobered a moment later and pulled his glasses off.

“Wait. Is there a catch? Will we have to eat ramen for six months, cancel our Netflix subscription? If so, we may have to wait. We’re behind on Bridgerton and—”

“No catch,” I intercepted. “We can do this.”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He circled his wrists. “Keep going.”

“Is this earning me a blowjob or something?” I joked.

“Oh, absolutely!”

I waggled my brows lasciviously. “Okay…it’s in our price range. And even though it does need some work, most of the fixes are cosmetic. Well, except for the kitchen. We couldn’t remove that wall immediately. You know that, right?”

“Yes, of course. But we can paint, polish the hardwood flooring, and sand the deck. Those are things we can do ourselves.”

“You’re going to sand the deck?” I asked dubiously.

“Oh, hell no. You can do that.”

“I figured.”

“I’ll paint. And I’ll invite your mom to help me choose colors as a show of goodwill. She’s going to have a cow when she finds out we’re putting an offer in on a house ten minutes from my parents.” He made a yikes face as he pulled his cell from his pocket. “Let’s call Chan—”

“Hang on. Did she call you?”

Aaron quirked a brow. “Your mom? No, but I know her pretty well. She’s going to be shappy on our behalf.”

“Shappy?”

“Yes, it’s when you’re happy for someone, but sad for yourself. Kind of like bittersweet. In your mom’s case, the bitter comes first and it’s usually directed at me. Don’t worry. I’m a pro at dealing with her. Eventually she’ll be sweet again.”

“Are you saying she’s always on your radar?”

“Always. I married a mama’s boy, Matty. It comes with the territory,” he replied matter-of-factly.

I held up my hand in protest. “I am not a mama’s boy.”

“You are, and I love that about you.” He fixed me with a meaningful stare. “She already called you, didn’t she?”

“Wait. What?” I sputtered, shaking my head with a growl. “Yeah, okay, fine. She called and—”

“She played out a scenario where she never sees her phantom grandchildren and those same kids will know my parents better and thus have a closer relationship with them than her. Am I right?”

“Damn. You’re good.”

“I am.” He nodded soberly. “Did you tell her I gave my notice too?”

“Uh…yeah. That’s what started it,” I admitted.

“Ouch. That’s a lot of change for your mom to cope with in one sitting…from Pittsburgh, no less. I bet she’s lost a lot of sleep this week.” He hiked his knee onto the bench and rested his elbow next to mine. “I’ll talk to her.”

“No, I will.”

“Or maybe leave it alone. Worrying is how she absorbs new info. You share something that causes her concern, she overreacts, sharpens her claws, and comes for me…like a mama bear. There’s no changing her. She loves you and wants the best for you.”

“True, and she can be a little psycho about it. But that doesn’t make me a mama’s boy.”

“Don’t get hung up on syntax, Matty. You’re still a manly man.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m a mama’s boy too.”

“Yeah, but your mom has never given me a hard time about…anything. She’s always chill.” I frowned when something occurred to me. “Or does she talk about me in Spanish?”

“Of course she does. I do too. Mi esposo es el hombre mas guapo,” he gushed, chuckling at my glare before lifting his phone. “Back to important things…like our dream house. Well, I’ll have to take Marsha up on her offer now so my employment history is covered for the loan.”

“You don’t have to take that job. My raise should cover us, so you can stick with your plan.”