Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“My gram said it’s a place to raise a family in,” he mused, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck.
I shivered.
“Come on,” he said, leaning back up. “Let me show you the rest of the house, and then I’ll feed you.”
“There’s more?” I joked happily, making him smile.
“Bedrooms,” he replied with mock excitement. “Three of them.”
“Holy cow!” I followed him, playing into the joke. “Three whole bedrooms?”
“And two bathrooms,” he said, tugging me up the stairs. “One down there—” He pointed to a door that was literally under the stairs, and I briefly wondered how he didn’t hit his head when he used it. “And another one up here.”
“It’s nothin’ special,” he said as he opened the bathroom door. The inside was worn, just like the kitchen, but it was also spotless. A couple of mismatched towels were folded and hung neatly on the rack. A pale-blue shower curtain was pushed aside and the olive-green tub was visible. Muttering something under his breath, Otto swung it closed. “The showerhead is new and the pressure’s great,” he said, almost apologetically. “It’s just ugly.”
“Does a shower have to be pretty?” I asked, smiling at him.
“Well, if you want to soak in the tub or somethin’.” He waved at the room. “It’s not fancy.”
“I don’t need fancy.”
“Sink and toilet work,” he said quickly, shutting the door to the bathroom. “And these are the bedrooms.”
The first room had various boxes and miscellaneous junk in it, which surprised me after seeing the rest of the clean house. I must’ve made some kind of face because Otto laughed a little under his breath.
“I need to go through it,” he said, waving his hand at the room before closing the door again.
I silently chastised myself and focused on hiding my reactions. His house was beautiful and I didn’t want him to think I was disappointed with anything.
The second bedroom was smaller and completely empty. I walked into it, my tights sliding slightly on the hardwood floors.
“The hall and the stairs have a runner already,” Otto said, walking in behind me. “Micky said somethin’ about puttin’ carpet in here, but I was thinkin’ a huge wool rug would look cooler.”
I turned to face him and he had an expression on his face that I couldn’t interpret.
“I know babies are wobbly as fuck,” he continued, his words coming out kind of fast. “But we could put a thick pad under the rug so it’ll pretty much bounce if it falls. I know carpet would probably be better, but I really like these hardwood floors. I’m pretty sure they’re the original floors and—”
“This’ll be the baby’s room?” I asked quietly, cutting him off.
“It’s closest to the master,” he replied. “I know the other room is bigger, but this one’s closer. They don’t need a lot of room anyway, right? Just a crib and a dresser? Maybe a rocking chair? Rocking chairs work way better on hardwood, just sayin’.”
“It’s perfect,” I breathed, spinning in a slow circle. Otto was right, it was a small room, but there were two tall windows that faced the front of the house making the room seem airy and bright. There was no closet, and the ceiling fan and light fixture had seen better days, but I could easily envision it as a finished nursery.
“You like it,” he said in relief. “Alright.”
“The floors are gorgeous,” I said, sliding over to him. “No carpet.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered. “I mean, I woulda done what you wanted, but I really didn’t want to fuck up my floors.”
“I could even make a rug,” I said, glancing back as he towed me out of the room. I’d do it in a rainbow of colors. I could already picture it.
“Or we can buy one,” he said doubtfully.
I shrugged.
“This is our room,” he announced, opening the door to the last room. He pulled me inside and backed up a little so I could look around.
The bed was made—no surprise there. What was surprising was the massive and clearly hand-sewn quilt that covered it. It was a mixture of colors done in a wedding ring pattern—I ignored the irony of that—and it fit perfectly with the rest of the house. The king-size bed was brass and gorgeous and the long dark wood dresser along the wall had matching knobs.
The walls were a pale yellow, almost white, a few shades lighter than the paint on the outside of the house.
“I think your favorite color is yellow,” I said, half-jokingly as I turned to Otto.
He was watching me intently, waiting for a reaction, and I realized belatedly that he was nervous I wouldn’t like it. The whole house would belong to our family, and he wanted me to like it—but this room would be purely ours. It was more important.
“It’s not my favorite,” he said after a moment, looking around the room. “It just seemed like it fit the house.”