Whiskey and Country

With a straight back, my hands shoved in my pockets, and my heart having a party in my chest, I walked toward the lawyer’s office four months later. This sounded so official. Hair prickled on my nape at the idea of doing something meaningful. Something big. Something I had never pictured myself doing short-term before moving to Green Mountain.

I breathed out my angst as I pulled the door open. Soft music welcomed me as I entered the office. I glanced around me. Okay, this place looked nothing like the cold and straight-lined law firms did back in Chicago with their over-expensive furniture and interiors. Here the decor was simple and country-chic. A five-chair waiting room, wooden walls, and a latte-beige carpet. It was inviting, almost cozy.

The secretary greeted me with a warm smile. “Mr. Peterson?”

I nodded before finding my voice, my vocal cords sounding rusty as stress filled me. I cleared my throat and croaked the words. “Hi, yes, it’s me.”

She moved to her feet and pointed an arm in the opposite direction of where I stood, showing me the way. “Follow me. They’re waiting for you.”

I nodded and walked behind her in the corridor toward a closed door at the end. My heart was running at a thousand-mile an hour speed, and I had to put a hand over my chest to calm its hyperactivity.

The woman knocked at the door, and I rolled my shoulders back. Yes, I could do this. Everything was coming together. And this piece would just make it all more real. She exchanged a few words with the people inside and motioned me in.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice now sounding stronger and steadier.

A man in his early sixties sat behind a desk. “I’m Eduardo Miller, an old friend of Mrs. Jeanine here. It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Peterson. I’ve heard great things about you.”

We exchanged handshakes before I spun and met Mrs. Rutherford.

I offered my hand, but she stepped closer and wrapped her frail body around me in a hug. “Oh Nicholas, I’m so happy to finally meet you in person. I saw the pictures of the house you sent. It looks absolutely divine. You brought her charm back. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

She patted my forearm before sitting back in the chair she’d vacated seconds ago.

We exchanged small talk, the tension releasing from my back, and my stance becoming less rigid as I learned a few interesting things about the house I’d been living in and the town that had become mine over the last few months.

“Nicholas, I’m so excited you wanna buy the house,” Mrs. Rutherford exclaimed, clapping her hands, watching me with stars in her eyes. “From the beginning, call me crazy, but I had a feeling you two would be a perfect match.”

“It’s a beautiful home. I could picture myself living there the moment I stepped inside the first time. You’re right. This house is special. I don’t wanna let it go. I’m not ready to let it go.”

The storm inside me calmed down when the words exited my mouth. Yeah, putting roots down in Green Mountain felt natural. And the logical next step. And the farmhouse was where I wanted to live.

Last month, Mike had agreed to sell me the business by the end of next spring.

Since that instant, every piece of my life had slotted in its rightful place.

I had a family. Dahlia and Jack now had a full-time presence in my life.

And soon I’d also be a business owner.

The only thing missing for my life to be fulfilled for now was that house.

In the small amount of time I’d been in town, this house had accumulated a lot of memories. Good and bad. Happy and sad. But it was home. And I refused to move. To live elsewhere. Because everywhere I looked, I could see Jack running into my arms. And Dahlia’s touches on the walls. Buddy following me around. The night Dahlia and I realized we couldn’t just be friends. And the one when the dog left us. The bed where we made love for the first time and the yard where we exchanged our first I love yous. The stargazing nights in the summer. And the swing I had pushed Jack on countless times. The moments of intimacy when we confided about our dreams, our heartaches, and our hopes. And the ones that had us holding on to each other. Or promising each other the world.

This was the house where I aspired to raise my family. Have more kids. Grow old with the woman I loved.

A pinched sensation clamped my heart.

No way would I let this house go. My home. Our home.

“Shall we begin?” I asked, anxious to see if my offer had been accepted and to go forward with the transaction.

Mr. Miller and Mrs. Rutherford exchanged a glance.

What was that all about? When I spoke to the owner on the phone last week, she assured me my offer stood and was being taken seriously. The house hadn’t been put on the market yet, so I was pretty sure they hadn’t received any other offer.

“Something wrong?” I asked, struggling to even my breathing, trying to look—and sound—casual.

There. They glanced at each other again.

Mr. Miller cleared his throat. “Mr. Peterson—”

“Call me Nick. Please.”

“Well, Nick. We were getting all the ownership paperwork prepared when Mrs. Rutherford received a call.”

I didn’t understand. I spent the last month researching comparative houses on the market in Green Mountain and the ones that had been sold. Tucker had helped me with the financial stuff. And so, I was already pre-qualified for the loan. As my friend said, my proposition looked sharp and really fucking amazing.

“Someone put up a second offer. I’m sorry, Nicholas,” Mrs. Rutherford began. “I just can’t ignore it. We’ll—”

A soft knock on the door interrupted her.

The secretary opened the door and peeked inside through the opening. “Mr. Miller, your next appointment is here.”

“Let her in,” the lawyer said.

The scene before my sight unfolded in slow motion.

Mr. Miller moved to his feet to greet the newcomer.

A familiar scent permeated my nostrils, enveloping me. My heart drummed faster. I scratched my nape, unsure what was going on.

My eyes met Mrs. Rutherford, and she looked at me with an expectant gaze.

The somber look she bore seconds ago had vanished, replaced by a joyful expression.

Mr. Miller exchanged a few words with the visitor, and I pivoted in my chair to see who it was, but well aware of the presence I could distinguish from a million others.

My body recognized her before my eyes saw her.

In the doorway, Dahlia exchanged a handshake with the lawyer, Jack squirming in her arms. She lowered the boy, and he ran my way, a toy truck in his hand.

“Hey little guy, what are you doing here?”

Jack said nothing as he lifted his arms for me to pull him up.

He settled on my lap. “Nickkk. MissyouNick,” he finally said as his tiny arms wrapped around my neck, and he dropped a moist kiss on my cheek.

“I’ve missed you too,” I said, hugging him close to my heart. We’d seen each other this morning, but every hour away from the people I loved felt like a lifetime. Since he choked almost four months ago, Jack and Dahlia had spent almost every night at my place. We’d got ourselves into a comfortable routine.

“Surprise. It’s surprise. Shhh,” the boy said in a low voice, his forefinger over his lips, as if I was in on what was going on.

“A surprise? You sure?”

He bobbed his head fast.

Mr. Miller shut the door, and Dahlia took the seat next to mine.

“Hey babe, what are you doing here?” I asked, with my eyebrows probably touching my hairline, my hand reaching for hers, and intertwining our fingers together. I breathed easier. Her touch always brought me peace. I hadn’t hinted about my wish to buy the house to Dahlia. But I knew how much it meant to her too. And I wanted to make sure it was a done deal before asking her to move in with me.

Shifting in my seat to give Jack more room to roll his toy car over my legs and torso, I watched my woman as she angled her upper body my way and grinned at me.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again, they smiled at me. “Here’s the thing,” she said before taking a big inhale. “I contacted Mrs. Rutherford last week. Call it a hunch, but I was pretty sure you’d make an offer on the house. By now, I know you pretty well, Nick. Anyway, I didn’t want you to buy us a house. I wanted us to buy us a house. Together. Make it official. Build something. A nest. Our family. Eventually. You can refuse if you think it’s too soon. Or if you prefer to be the sole owner. It’s up to ya. And no matter what, I will be okay with it. No hard feelings. I just hope this is a dream we could share. A beginning of our future. If you will have me as a co-owner. As a partner. As your other half.”

Jack had stopped wriggling in my arms and was watching his mother with as much intensity as I did, his widened stare probably matching mine.

“You’re already all of these things—”

“I’m all in, Nick. I want everything with you. And I want to start dreaming with you. Not in six months or two years from now. Never will I take anything for granted ever again. I want us to be a family. From this day on.”

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat and blinked. “Are you serious? You wanna own the house with me?”

Dahlia nodded. “Told ya the other night. This house feels like home. And you’re there. My soul already lives there. It’s been for months. This house has a heart. And the man with the biggest heart I know and with whom I’m kinda in love with also happens to live within its walls. How could I wish to live elsewhere? Just so we’re on the same wavelength here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s make this home ours. The way you see it in your head. The way we picture it together when we go to sleep. Those walls already have a story, but just the beginning of ours. Let’s give them the entire novel. Every chapter. So that one day, they tell our story too.”

My thoughts raced through my head. Mixed with my emotions.