and it was clear in her eyes that this topic was important to her. It meant something. To give a flippant reply that she was perfectly normal, that everybody felt this way sometimes, couldn’t do it justice.
And really, he wanted to do it justice.
“Well. Let me think.” He set down his spoon.
Thought for a moment before choosing his next words.
“You’re a lot of things, Bree, but I’ve never looked at you and thought impossible to satisfy was one of them. Hardheaded, yes. Stubborn. To. A. Fault.”
She frowned. Crossed her arms over her knees.
He put up a hand. “But also spontaneous. Adventurous. Fun. Your loyalty to your friends and family is inspiring. You have a gift in seeing the outsider and drawing them in. You are the person people want to be around.” He grinned. “Even I fall into that category. Even if it’s been for the pleasure of driving you crazy.”
He thought he saw her blushing as she drew her knees up until they covered her chin. “But I don’t love a job. Any job. And I’ve tried—”
He shrugged. “So unlike half of the population, you love yourself too much to settle for fifty hours a week doing something that doesn’t spark you. You value your time more than possessions. I think that takes bravery.”
She shook her head. “But more than jobs. It’s hobbies. A lifetime of ridiculous hobbies. And even with guys—”
“So you keep moving on because you haven’t found the one who makes you want to stop.” He smiled slightly, then felt the heat creep up the back of his own neck. “I know a little bit about that struggle. It’s not the end of the world to wait for the right person.”
He paused for a beat, then put out his hands. “Look, everybody longs to capture that picture-perfect moment when their hearts are bursting with joy around friends and family and achievements and whatever else, and then live in that frozen, perfect snapshot forever. Well, it doesn’t happen here. But I think the fact we long for that means it’s going to happen somewhere else. Otherwise, why would we all want it so bad?
“So maybe you need to lower your expectations a little bit on what you think this life ‘should’ look like 24/7. Maybe you need to recognize that there is no way the job you pick or people you’re with are going to be easy and fun all the time. Or”—he shrugged as he picked up his plate, then hers—“maybe you just haven’t found the right job, or hobby, or person, and need to keep looking. Or, and this is what I’d bet on, maybe you need to do a little of both.”
He paused before he took a step toward the counter with plates in hand. “You tell me, Bree. What do you want most? Right now. What’s one thing you think you want most right now?”
He felt a flurry in his chest as he said the words.
In that moment, looking at Bree sitting on that chair with her knees pressed to her chin, he knew what his answer would be.
And it was startling.
“What do I want most, right at this moment?” she repeated, her evergreen eyes on his.
He saw the perfect crease between her brows.
Fought the desire to reach forward and smooth it.
What would he do if she said you? What madness would he have stumbled upon if the woman who had brought him such mirthful misery over the last month said his name?
She exhaled softly. “Nana’s house.”
Chip felt his own chest deflate. He pushed aside the ridiculous thought, and even more, the ridiculous disappointment that came with her answer. The house. Of course. She wanted the house.
She shrugged. “I know. It’s not much. It’s not even a passionate, life-or-death desire. But right now, I just want Nana’s house. I want to own these memories. I want Anna to see Nana’s house and to love it. I want to preserve all of the good things that happened there.”
He nodded. “I get it.” He patted the counter. “I want this house too.” He set the plates in the sink and started up the water. “So get the house.”
“Yeah. It’s not that easy.”
“Is anything worthwhile ever easy?”
Chip picked up the scrubber. Started scrubbing down the plates.
Bree stood. Took the paper towel and started sweeping off the crumbs from the table.
When she finished, she tossed the paper towel in the open trash can. Shifted her weight uncertainly. “Well, hey, this has been . . . really nice.