Page 85 of Losing Forever

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yep.” She holds the strap of her bag, a mix of nerves and surprise sparking in her eyes.

We’re in my SUV and on the road within minutes.

“Where are we going?” Braylee asks, a little giddy.

“You’ll see when we get there.” I drive on North Myrtle Avenue toward the downtown Clearwater office but exit a few miles before. The neighborhood has several waterfront homes. I pull up to a gated driveway and a house sitting high on the bluff of Old Clearwater Bay. The historic Craftsman-style home is dated but charming.

Braylee glances from the house to me, then to the house again. “Is this a new flip? Our first million-dollar home?”

She knows the area well now; we both do. I use the remote to open the gates and drive on the brick road to the entrance. Large oak trees mixed with random palms shade most of the house.

My nerves skyrocket and my palms sweat as I park the car.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Braylee undoes her seat belt, her brows raised.

“It needs to be remodeled, obviously, but I’d like to know what you think of the place.”

“Did you buy this for you?” Her bright eyes lose their luster. “Are you moving out?”

“Tell me what you think first.” I get out of the car and guide her to the front door, hidden by an overgrown shrub.

A stale smell greets us, even after I had aired the house the other day. With the August heat, I couldn’t keep the windows and doors open for long. Braylee takes in the entrance with all its woodwork and trim. “How old is it?”

“1918.”

“Ooh.” She feigns a shiver. “Could be haunted.”

“Could be. If so, the ghost is living large in this waterfront estate, or he will once I fix it up.”

She frowns again until we turn the corner. Her gaze widens on the large windows overlooking the backyard and Intracoastal Waterway. “Breathtaking.”

“I know,” I say, looking at her.

“Is that an infinity pool?” She steps over old carpet that’s partially removed to expose the hardwood floors beneath.

I follow her to the windows, watching as she takes in the yard. The large oaks continue back here, acting as an umbrella from the harsh rays. Green grass stretches to the seawall, where a dock meets the ocean.

“I like the trees.”

She noticed. I was hoping she would.

“They shade the pool year-round,” I say. “You could swim in it and barely get any sun.”

Her head turns my way, her eyes searching mine.

I smile. “Youcould swim in it every day and not worry about your scars. If a project like this would interest you long-term.”

She takes another long look around and steps to me, placing her hands on my chest. “You interest me long-term.”

My smile grows wider. I slip my hands around her waist and pull her against me. “Do you think you could spare some of your time to redo this house with me however we deem fit? Then maybe, possibly, spend the rest of your life in it with me?”

She grins but doesn’t yet meet my gaze. “So this project would be us renovating our forever home?”

I kiss her head, my insides filling with so much joy I’m shocked my skin isn’t glowing. “If you’ll have it.”

She lifts her beautiful blue eyes to me, eyes I fell in love with eight years ago when we were young teenagers, clueless about what life had in store for us.

“I will.” She pushes up onto her toes and kisses my lips. “I love it. I love you, and I can’t wait to get started.”

Started on our life, our future, our everything. “Neither can I.”