Page 51 of Echoes From Within
So, like I said before, I’m nervous. I want her to love this place almost as badly as I need my next breath to survive.
“Is that a wraparound porch?” Sophia asks me breathlessly.
“It is,” I confirm. “It goes around the entire house but connects to the deck out back.
“A deck?” she asks. “Like, for a pool?”
“Yep,” I smile watching her eyes light up.
“How exciting.”
Chuckling, I unlock the front door and step aside.
“Welcome home,” I say softly, those words meaning more than she could possibly understand at this time.
My poor babygirl isn’t doing mentally well, but I will do everything in my power to fix that.
“Wow,” she whispers.
I take a look around and try to see it from her point of view. When I had this house designed, I did it not knowing what my future woman would like. I went off of instinct alone. It’s not overly done, but you can tell the place has a feminine touch.
As soon as we step inside it's like a breath of fresh air. The whole vibe is a mix of floral notes and a subtle hint of vanilla—kind of like walking into a high-end spa. That’s how Bitsy explained it one day.
The living room is bathed in this soft, natural light filtering through the sheer curtains. The walls are done up in these muted pastels—creams, pinks, and blues—giving it a touch of sophistication without going overboard. Real modern elegance. Again, Bitsy.
There's this plush ivory rug on the wooden floor that feels real good under your feet. Furniture's all about clean lines and modern design, but still comfy as hell. You've got these throw pillows on the sofa, not too flashy, just enough to add a bit of style.
On one wall, you've got this gallery of framed photos. They're not your typical family portraits; they capture moments—laughter, adventures, real-life stuff. And on the coffee table, a simple vase with wildflowers, bringing a bit of the outdoors in.
The decor's got a feminine touch, but it's not in your face. A sleek mirror, a minimalistic console table, and a modern crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Classy stuff.
In the corner, there's a cozy reading nook. A comfy chair, good for soaking up the natural light, and a small bookshelf with some well-loved novels.
The kitchen's an extension of the living space, with white and gold everywhere. Marble countertops shining under the cabinet lights. There's a vase of fresh flowers in the breakfast nook—a spot where I’ve pictured many laid-back moments with a stranger's face over a cup of coffee.
“This place is amazing,” she gasps. “This is your home?”
“Sure is, baby,” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She doesn’t step away from my embrace and I feel as if I’m standing on the world.
“Who decorated it?” she asks with a tilt in her voice.
Seeing as how she can’t see me, I smile and let myself enjoy her jealousy.
She doesn’t understand this yet, but she has and never will have anything to be jealous of.
“I did,” I admit. “Well, sort of. I hired someone, a few someones, to build this place and fix up the inside for me. But I gave them all strict instructions on exactly what I wanted done. Everything you see was one hundred percent my idea.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” she says, turning her head to look up at me. “This is too perfect of a house for a single person to live in.”
I look deep into her eyes, and say, “I agree. Let’s go get you unpacked.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“Come on, baby,” I laugh. “I want to show you around.”
Chapter Eighteen