across the covered porch, taking in the sturdy Adirondack furniture, the porch swing, and the almost floor to ceiling windows that dominated the front of the house.
“I hoped you would like it. Let’s go inside.”
Since leaving Tom, it had taken conscious effort to remember the difference between a house and a home. I had grown up in a home full of love, feeling safe and secure. But as each year spent with Tom passed, that feeling had dwindled little by little until it disappeared. I hung the school and family pictures on the walls, decorated the rooms, and made the boys feel as happy and comfortable as I could, but it never felt quite right.
My first step into this house felt like home, and I knew it had nothing to do with the walls that surrounded us. It was all him. Home was comfort, security, trust. Jake was my home. It was clearer now to me than ever.
“We could be a family here,” I blurted.
“That’s the idea, beautiful.” He beamed down at me.
“The boys will love it.”
He chuckled. “They already do. Where do you think we go whenever I take them fishing?”
“Right here?”
“Yeah, they already kind of have their own rooms.”
“I always pictured something old and rustic whenever they came home from one of your trips and talked about it. Kind of run down and crappy.”
“It used to be. It was a disaster when I first bought it.”
“That makes sense. Describing the ongoing renovation of this place would not be in their wheelhouse.”
He chuckled. “True. Plus, we spent most of our time here outside at the river.”
“Show me the rest.”
“You got it.” He led me over hard wood floors through a beautiful open downstairs living area and into a massive knotty pine kitchen. I could see us here, cooking together, laughing with the boys, a baby in the highchair . . . smiles on our faces.
I sighed. “What you’ve done is beautiful. I love it.”
“Come upstairs.” He held out a hand and I took it for him to lead me up, then down a hallway. The walls were covered pictures; Jake fishing with my boys and some with Ren, picnics and boat rides with Harper and little Bella, and his mother. All smiles, all joy.
Home.
We stopped in an alcove at the back of the upstairs family room. In the center was a cut-glass set of doors leading to an upstairs deck that ran the length of the house. It was a cold morning—a light dusting of snow covered the grounds and little wisps of snowflakes still floated in the air—but he took me outside anyway, grabbing a quilt from a shelf on the way.
“Over here, gorgeous.” He directed me to a seating area, flung the quilt out to cover a chair, then wrapped me in it as I sat.
I held up a hand. “I have to tell you something.”
He sat in the chair across from me. “You can tell me anything.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday morning. I should have called you the second I found out. I just—” I took in a deep breath, my lips flattened together in frustration. Why was it so hard to explain how I felt?
Understanding lit up his eyes. “No, I overreacted, and I didn’t listen to you or give you a chance to explain.”
“I pushed you away, and maybe part of why I pushed so hard was to see if you’d pull me closer. I know it was wrong but I—”
“I get it. It’s part of why I beat myself up so hard yesterday when I got home. You needed someone to step up and fight for you. Instead, I let you leave.”
“Yesterday was just ugly all around. Can you forgive me? Can we get back to where we were?” I felt my lower lip tremble. I bit it to regain control.
“Violet, baby, as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to forgive.” His eyes turned glossy as if he were fighting back tears. “And where we were? If you’re asking about my heart, it’s already yours. It’s been yours. For years, Violet.”
“I love you, Jake. You said it to me yesterday, but it didn’t sink in until last night. You weren’t the only one who didn’t listen, and for that, I’m sorry too.”
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “You know, sometimes I’d sit out here and think about all the times I wanted to kiss you and couldn’t. All the times I wanted to just