my way farther into the back of the cabin, I flip the light on in the bedroom and my heart skips a beat inside of my chest.
There is a white chandelier with hanging crystals in the center of the room as the light fixture. The bed is absolutely stunning, matching the coffee table in the living room. The nightstands, the same.
There’s even a bed, made up with all white bedding. A comforter, with light mint and pink decorative pillows. It’s feminine and soft. It’s absolutely stunning. Turning to the right, I see a small white dresser with several framed photographs decorating the top.
Walking over to the dresser, I reach out for one of the pictures, but my hand freezes midair. My breathing completely stops and I’m sure that I’ll pass out at any second, but I can’t do anything, not a single fucking thing but stare.
There are three framed photos staring back at me. One of Ford and I in kindergarten, one of us at our high school graduation together, and in an 11x14 there is one of our engagement pictures.
I don’t know how long I stand there and stare at the pictures. It could be minutes, it could be hours. But I can’t move. Because it has dawned on me that this is the home that Ford created for us to share.
I had asked him a dozen times where we would live after the wedding, and all he would ever tell me was that he had it handled. Then when the wedding drew closer, I stopped asking because I didn’t care. I could only think about leaving, about the life that I wanted outside of Gallup. I was so consumed with it. I couldn’t think about anything else.
“Figured you’d discover all this,” a deep voice says from behind me.
Jumping, I spin around to see him standing at the entrance, his shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, his body completely soaking wet and his shirt sticking to his chest in a way that I find it hard to look anywhere but his bulging muscles.
“What is all this?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
He chuckles, looking off to the side before he swings his gaze back to meet mine. “You really gonna make me say it?” he asks.
My eyes fill with tears and they fall, yet again. I haven’t cried this much since I left Gallup. It’s as if it’s been building for seventeen years, and now it’s all just pouring out of me. I can’t stop it either, and I’m not quite sure that I want to.
“Please, say it, Cowboy.”
“You wanted your own place. I wanted to give that to you. A year before we graduated high school, me and my dad started working on it. Once it was to a point of just doing the finish work, my dad took a step back and I spent nights and weekends out here when I wasn’t working, at school, or with you.”
“You did all of this for me?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “No, honey. I did all of this for us. Wanted us to have a good start in life. Knew this was the best way to do it. Figured we could build something bigger later, this is just a ranch hand house, but it was free and far enough away that we’d have all the privacy we needed.”
“I’m such a bitch,” I whimper.
Ford lets out a chuckle, pushing off of the wall and closing the distance between us. He wraps me in his arms, dipping his chin so that his mouth is just a hairsbreadth away from my own. I can almost taste his lips, almost feel the firm kiss that I know he would give me.
“You are, but you wanted more than this, more than Gallup or I could ever give you and you chased your dreams. Even if it still fucking hurts that I wasn’t your dream, that I was your backup plan, I’m really fucking proud of you, Stephanie.”
“Stop,” I whimper. “Just stop.”
“What?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I rise to my toes, my mouth touching his. “Stop being so fucking perfect, Ford. Stop showing me everything that I fucked up on. Stop making me want you more than I ever have, stop making me regret everything I’ve done the past seventeen years.
“Because I do. I regret walking away from you, away from this and the beautiful life that we could have built for something as selfish and fleeting as fame—something I have discovered is downright