He yanked his hand back, as if stung. “I’m doing this for us, Lizzie. Please… just trust me.”
Weeks later, as Will slept soundly beside me, his phone on the nightstand buzzed. Normally, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but something inexplicably compelled me to take a look. The message on the screen read: “Thank you for doing this. Love you. —P. 🤗”
My heart plummeted. Who was “P”? Why were they professing their love to him? My hands shook as I unlocked his phone. Among his messages, I came across a file about a second house. A SECOND HOUSE.
“What on earth?” I muttered, gripping the phone tightly. My mind raced. Was this where he’d been spending his nights? Who was he meeting there?
The next morning, as Will left for “work,” I used our shared geolocation app to track him. Sure enough, he wasn’t at the office. He was at the address from the file. Grabbing my car keys, I whispered to my unborn child, “Let’s find out what Daddy’s been hiding.”
When I arrived, I was greeted by a charming yellow house straight out of a fairytale. It had white shutters and a wraparound porch. My heart pounded in my chest as I parked a few houses away and made my way over. Suddenly, the curtains twitched, and I saw Will staring at me through the window. He looked like he’d seen a specter.
Before I could make sense of what was happening, a little boy came running out of the door, his face beaming with excitement. “Are you here to help us?” he asked eagerly.
“Help with what?” I stammered, completely taken aback.
Before he could respond, Will appeared at the door, blocking my way. “Lizzie, you shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice trembling.
“Why do you have this house?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Who is that boy?”
“Please, Lizzie,” he pleaded. “It’s not what you think.”
Despite my misgivings, I followed him inside. To my utter shock, the scene was nothing like what I’d envisioned. My parents were painting the walls, Will’s brothers were putting together furniture, and family friends were hard at work in the kitchen. The house was a hive of activity.
“What is all this?” I whispered, dumbfounded.
Will took my hands in his. “Lizzie, I bought this house for us. For you, me, and the baby. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Before I could reply, my mom emerged, holding a paintbrush. “We’ve been in a tough spot, Lizzie,” she confessed. “Your dad and I lost our jobs, and Will came up with a way to help us get by. That message you saw? That was from me, thanking him.”
A wave of relief, guilt, and gratitude washed over me. “All this time, you were building us a home?” I asked, tears streaming down my face.
Will nodded. “I wanted to give you and our child a better life.”
Pulling him close, I whispered, “No more secrets, Will. Promise me.”
“Never again,” he vowed.
Later, as we sat on the porch, I smiled through my tears. “You’re a dope. But you’re my dope.”
He laughed, pulling me even closer. And in that moment, I realized that love isn’t about elaborate gestures or being perfect. It’s about being there for each other, even when things get complicated. Together, we’d build a future filled with love and forgiveness.