Page 164 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“I don’t want to rush him,” I say quietly. “Or us. I’m not moving into his cabin tomorrow. I’m not picking out curtains.”

Kelly snorts. “Good. Because that place needs more than curtains.”

I laugh, but my heart is pounding.

“But I do want the option to stay,” I continue. “I don’t want to exist in limbo anymore. If this works, I want it to be because I chose it. Not because I ran away from something. Not because I needed saving.”

That’s the difference.

I’m not running.

I’m driving.

Kelly folds another stack of laundry, watching me carefully. “There aren’t many rentals around here. Just the seasonal cabins, mostly. Rustic. No fancy condos, I’m afraid.”

I nod slowly.

“I know,” I say. Then I swallow. “Actually, I was wondering something else.”

She pauses. “Okay. What?”

“How would you feel about selling me your house?”

The silence is immediate and thick.

“Clara,” she says carefully, “I don’t want you to feel bad for me and my situation?—”

“I don’t,” I cut in quickly. “I mean, I do feel bad. Of course I do. But that’s not why I want this place.”

I stand up now, because sitting feels too small for what I’m about to say.

“You have years and years of history in these walls with Mike. Every room probably echoes with it. You deserve a fresh start that doesn’t smell like betrayal.”

She blinks.

“And I,” I continue, my voice steadying as I speak the truth out loud, “need something that’s mine. Not my parents’. Not tainted with Geoffrey’s memory—or his secretary’s bare ass—” we both snort.

“I understand that,” Kelly murmurs.

“And I don’t want a luxury high-rise someone else helped me choose. I want something that feels like me. Like mine.”

My pulse thunders.

“I want to explore whatever this is with Greyson without feeling like I’m one suitcase away from leaving. I don’t want him to feel pressured to take me in. And I don’t want to waste time pretending I don’t know what I want.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

“But it’s a whole house,” she says faintly.

“I’m rich,” I blurt.

She bursts out laughing. “What?”

“Obscenely,” I clarify. “Like, embarrassingly so. I can afford it. And I’m willing to offer you twenty percent above market value. Clean deal. No drama. You get a fresh start. I get roots.”

She stares at me for a long moment.

“You’re serious.”