I fully agree with the practical suggestion, but my mind is reeling. “A car and half a million dollars in cash? Why would you do this?”
Nico enfolds me under his arm and kisses the top of my head. “We just want you to be provided for, no matter what.”
“We also wanted to make sure you understood you have choices before we show you upstairs,” Mitch adds, his usually cynical expression just as gentle as Nico’s now. “No more transactional relationships. This money and car are yours without conditions.”
Without conditions. My heart nearly gives out at their kindness. I can’t believe they’re sending me away with such extravagant gifts.
But then it occurs to me to ask, “What does showing me upstairs have to do with any of this?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Upstairs, Mitch shows me all the rooms they made from scratch. They’ve added three more bedrooms and three more bathrooms. Two of the bathrooms are ensuite.
My heart cracks a little when they let me know that the largest master will go to their future wife.
“So that she can have some damn privacy when she needs it,” Jeb explains.
Then he shocks the hell out me when he announces the other master will go to him.
“You’re giving up the storage space?” I ask him.
His cheeks brighten to red. “How would it look to my future kids to have a dad who’s too scared to sleep in a real bedroom? Also, we’ll probably be needing that storage space eventually. From what I understand, kids rack up a lot of shit.”
Before I can say anything else, Nico starts tugging me out of the room. “The last room is the one we’ve already painted and put a few pieces of furniture into. C’mon…”
A nursery.
Jeb, Mitch, and Nico show me into a nursery. There’s a crib already assembled, yellow walls, and a deep orange gliding recliner that looks perfect and cozy. Sunset orange…my favorite color.
This is when it gets hard. The half million…it’s unbelievably generous. I’ll be able to move to Canada and establish myself there without worry.
Yet the unwarranted jealousy remains. With a house like this, they’ll snag a wonderful woman. Someone clean, who isn’t already pregnant. They’ll give her this perfect cabin and this perfect life. They’ve got everything planned out. All they need is my approval.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. But I don’t dare to turn around. No matter how well I modulate my voice, there’s no way I’ll be able to fake a smile as I say, “This is…this is great. Perfect. Your future wife is very lucky.”
“We were hoping you’d say that.”
So that sounded reasonable and not jealous to them. Good…it doesn’t matter that it feels like there’s a pool of acid where my heart used to be. As long as I’ve made them happy, it doesn’t matter. That’s all I want. For them to be happy with someone way better than me.
They’ve treated me so nice. Look at everything they’ve done for me…and to prepare for their future wife. They deserve nothing less than happily ever after.
“Turn around, Goldie.”
I can’t. They’ll see how upset I am if I do.
But then Mitch says, “That’s an order, not a request.”
I clamp my lips and use every ounce of resolve I have to “fix my face,” as they’d say back in Georgia. Then I turn around.
Only to gasp and slap both hands over my mouth.
All three men are down on one knee. And they’re each holding out a delicate rose gold band.
“Our future wife…we want her to be you,” Nico informs me, his voice gentle and somber.
“We know it’s only been a couple of months,” Mitch adds. “And that might feel like it’s too soon. But not for us.”
“We don’t give a fuck how little time we’ve known you. We love you,” Jeb says, his deep voice raw and direct. “We love you so damn much.”
I stare at them in disbelief.
I dissolve into tears.
Then I run.
I run, and I run, and I don’t stop. Not until I’m back in my garden farm.
Jeb finds me I don’t know how long after that, hunkered down and crying in the dirt between my newly sown sweet corn and the transplanted eggplants.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” I say when I see him headed toward me. I’m barely able to talk through my tears.
“I had a feeling this thing would go sideways when you didn’t seem to realize the future wife we were talking about was you.” He lets out a heavy sigh, then plops down beside me. “I should’ve told them it was too much.”
“No, it was perfect.” The need to reassure him dries up some of my tears. “It’s not you. It’s me. I love you guys, too, but I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve any of this.”
“Why not?” Jeb asks. And bless him, his tone is equal parts baffled and curious.