“Alright, open your eyes,” he tells me.
I do, but when the sight before me is too much to take in, I bring my hand to cover my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut again in disbelief.
“Carson,” I whisper, but it echoes in the silence of the room. Opening my eyes again, I start to take in the details of the room that looks nothing like it did when we left for Italy. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Instead of the bright white and beige playroom, the room is painted a dark hunter green with walls of floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves along three of the walls with beautiful crown molding and a ladder that runs the length of the room. Between the shelves are wall sconces that look like real gas-lit lanterns. In place of the closet that used to be against the one wall, there is now a wooden desk that looks like it’s been custom built for the space. In the corner of the room sits an oversized brown leather chair and a matching ottoman big enough to fit the both of us. A large Persian-style rug covers the hardwood floors and ties in with the colors of the walls and shelves. The ceiling is the same deep green as the walls, but it has an ornate floral pattern to it.
“I had it remodeled while we were gone. It wasn’t quite ready when we were supposed to leave the other day, that’s why we took that little detour,” Carson explains as I continue to take in the room in wonder.
“I don’t know how you managed to pull this off, but thank you so much. This is the greatest surprise I’ve ever been given, Carson.” The tears break free and start to cascade down my face when I see a piece of artwork hanging above the writing desk next to a wooden sign that says “This is where the magic happens.”
As I get closer, I recognize it’s a canvas full of my handwritten notes to Carson. He even wrote the ones I sent him via texts on post-its and had it made into a piece of art.
“One of my love languages is words of affirmation. So, in my mind, you’ve been telling me you love me everyday for the past four months,” Carson explains as he follows me toward the desk. “Look how beautiful your words are, Austen. They’re visual poetry. I want you to type them in your computer, write them on the walls, just like you’ve written them on my heart. You’ve claimed me, whether you meant to or not. There’s no going back to just friends for me now that we’re back home. Because that’s just it, this place isn’t home without you in it. Without you, it’s just walls, plaster and roofing. So be mine forever, Dakota—move in with me and be my home.”
Being with him these past few weeks has taken some getting used to—it’s like I’m retraining my brain after years of experiencing such a polar opposite form of what I thought was love. Carson showers me with adoration and praise. He makes me feel needed, loved and cared for. I’ve never felt more safe and secure than I do in his arms. But I can’t help this tiny voice in the back of my mind that blares that this is all too good to be true. Moving in together, in an official capacity, feels like it should be a decision made with careful consideration.
The moment the suggestion left his lips, I felt the urge to leap into his arms and shout yes. Instead, I find myself breaking eye contact and staring down at the floor, struggling to form a response.
“You don’t have to make a decision right now. I’m sorry if I put pressure on you, that wasn’t my intention. I’m just crazy about you, and I want you to know now that we’re back, no longer on a dreamy vacation, that I’m still all in and completely in love with you.”
I know in my heart I don’t want to push him away or hurt him. But for a moment there, my insecurities had me worried I may be making another mistake blinded by lust. I know for certain that he would never treat me the way Aaron did. My heart knows Carson would never hurt me, never raise his voice at me in anger. But my heart isn’t the one that needs reassurance, it’s my head.
Carson Wilder is a walking green flag. He’s kind, caring, endearing, selfless, the list goes on.
So why am I sitting here making him sweat over a question that I absolutely want to say yes to?
Bracketing my chin between his fingers, he lifts my face so his eyes can meet mine, and when they do, I realize I have nothing to fear. Before I can overthink this any further, I whisper, “Yes.”
“Yes?” he questions. The hope in his eyes has emotion clogging my throat.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be your home. Always,” I choke out.
He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground. “Fuck yeah!” he exclaims as he spins us around.
“Quit it. You’re making me dizzy!” I try to catch my breath through my laughter. “And I still need to check out the rest of the room,” I tell him.
He stops spinning, but wraps my legs around his waist instead of placing me back down. Grasping my ass in his hands, he holds me against him and rests his forehead against mine.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment,” he admits.
“Me either. Is this what you were nervous about earlier?” I question.
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never surprised someone with something like this, and I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. Do you like it?”
“I do, it’s amazing.” I don’t hold back the smile that takes over.
“Good,” he says as he places a kiss on each corner of my mouth. “I fucking love seeing you happy.” With a pat on my butt, he sets me down and turns me back around to the room so he can point out different details I may have missed.
“I wasn’t sure where you’d want all of your books, so I had the designer place some of them on the shelves,” he explains before sweeping me over to one of the drawers that is below each shelf. “And in the drawers, I asked them to put some of our board games we’ve accumulated the past few months. Oh, and then because you said you knew how to play chess, I asked for this cool chess board I saw online.” He walks me over to the square coffee table that is next to the oversized chair. There are floor cushions surrounding the coffee table, the perfect spot to sit and play our games together. The chess board is massive, taking up a good portion of the coffee table. Lifting one of the pieces to examine it, I feel the weight of it and ask, “Wait, are these glass?”
He stands beside me, bringing his hand over mine as he brushes his thumb over the ridges of the rook piece. “They are. Half are clear and the other frosted. I saw the board online and knew we had to get it.”
Setting the piece down, I turn to face him. “This is unreal, Carson. I’m amazed they were able to get all of this done while we were gone.”
He scratches at his head and lets out a sheepish sigh. “Me too, honestly, considering I was kind of a diva to work with. I kept making change orders and asking for updates, but it’s only because I wanted it to turn out perfect.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck again, I bring him in for a chaste kiss.
