Operation Meet Cute by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 24
HARLOW
The click, click, click of my keyboard is rhythmic and soothing as the words fly from my fingertips. I’m completely in the zone, the entire scene playing out inside my mind and flowing effortlessly onto the page.
I was happy with the script I gave to Timothy—which he unceremoniously eviscerated right before my eyes—but this, this feels different. It feels like the story I’ve been waiting to tell my entire life.
“There you are.” Teddy’s voice startles me.
I half-turn my head, not quite bringing myself to stop typing or look away from the screen until I finish writing the sentences that are still echoing in my head.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“We have an appointment with the realtor in half an hour. I didn’t know you were writing again. That’s huge. We can reschedule if you want.”
“Huh?” I finally manage to get to a stopping point and swivel my chair away from the computer. “No, I can pick this back up later. I want to go look at houses.”
I stand up and he looks skeptically at my outfit: pajama pants and an over-large T-shirt of his that I stole. At this rate, he’s not going to have any clothes left. They’ll all be in my closet instead.
“Get changed, and we’ll go.” He sits down on my bed to wait. “I’m so glad to see you writing again.”
“Me too,” I agree. “Being in a funk felt all kinds of wrong.”
“I knew you’d shake it off eventually.”
I love his confidence in me. It makes me believe I really can do anything. Like maybe I could stop being a coward and take the leap to get a production company to let me make this movie I’m writing. We’re nearly finished filming Timothy’s project—fortunately, I didn’t get fired—which means I’ll be looking for my next job in a month or so. Or I can create my own next job.
“I might shop it around when I’m finished with it,” I say casually as I shed my clothes, tossing them into my hamper.
“Really? That’s so fantastic, Low. I’m so proud of you.”
I toss a smile at him over my shoulder. “I haven’t done anything yet, Teddy Bear. But I appreciate your support.”
“You’ve stopped doubting yourself, that’s something,” he points out. “And I can’t wait to sit right next to you, holding your hand at your first premier.”
The thought of sitting in a theater to watch a movie I wrote and directed makes my stomach flutter and flip with nerves and excitement. It’s everything I dreamed of my entire life. His enthusiasm makes it feel possible.
“That sounds perfect.”
“So, what’s it about?” he asks.
I wiggle into a pair of skinny jeans, forgoing underwear, which earns me a heated look from my man and momentarily distracts both of us from his question as I lean over to kiss him, his hands wandering over my denim-clad ass.
“It’s a love story,” I answer when we part.
“Shocking,” he teases.
I pull on a shirt and then grab my styling gel to make my hair presentable. “It’s different than what I wrote before though.” Not that I let him read any of my earlier scripts, but I’m sure he can guess what they were like. After all, they more or less all followed the rom com formula I grew so dependent on both in my writing and in my real life.
“Oh?”
“It’s…you know what? I kind of want to keep it as a surprise,” I decide, finishing up and wiping my hands clean on a dirty T-shirt. “It will give me incentive to make that premier night happen for real.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” He stands up from the bed and slips his hand into mine. “Now let’s go see if we can find our dream home.”
TEDDY
“Nope,” Harlow declares immediately upon entering our fifth house of the day.
“You can’t say nope when you’re barely through the front door,” I gripe. For all we know, this is the perfect house for us, and he’s dismissing it without seeing more than the first five feet of it.
“We can go in, but it’s not the one,” he says firmly, shaking his head.
I give the realtor, Angela, an apologetic look. She’s been an absolute saint all day long while Harlow has rejected house after house without any explanation other than it’s not the right one.
“There’s a pool,” she says cheerfully, clearly hoping that will convince him to give this place a chance.
“So did the last four,” he points out.
I slip my hand into his and coax him to explore the house with me. It’s not a bad place, with high ceilings, decent-size bedrooms, and a nice kitchen.
“What don’t you like about it?” I ask, hoping to get an idea to help Angela pick out a new list to show us next weekend.
“It doesn’t feel like home.” He shrugs. “When it’s the right house, we’re going to feel it.”
Sounds a little mystical to me, but it’s obvious I’m not going to convince him to feel differently about the matter. “All right,” I agree, squeezing his hand.
“I have one more place I can show you today,” Angela says.
“Let’s do it,” I agree, and we all head back outside to pile into her car.
The final house for the day is a little way outside the city, which will make the commute a pain in the ass, but I’m immediately struck by the neighborhood. There are mature trees and a few kids riding their bikes. It’s not what I would’ve expected to want, but seeing it now, I realize this is the kind of neighborhood I’ve been dreaming of. It reminds me of the small town I grew up in, but we’re still near the city.
When we pull into the driveway, Harlow’s fingers tighten against mine, and he inhales sharply. The house is absolutely beautiful with exposed brick and lovely lilac bushes lining the front walk.
“Let’s go inside,” he says, sounding excited for the first time today.
“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed.
We get out of the car and follow the realtor to the front door. This time Harlow doesn’t say a word as we step inside. I’m struck immediately by the image of walking through this door each night and being greeted by Harlow, the smell of something burning wafting from the kitchen as music plays. I can picture greeting my parents at this same door, ushering them in to the welcoming smell of a Christmas tree and baking cookies.
“Shall we take a look?” Angela asks, and Harlow just nods quietly.
I’m at a loss for words myself, emotions clogging my throat, so I simply follow.
The house isn’t without its flaws. As we take the tour, I notice some scratches on the doors, likely due to a previous owner’s dog, and the wood floors will need to be replaced within the next few years, but that warm, welcome feeling I had when we stepped inside never leaves me.
Once we view all of the bedrooms, Angela shows us out to the backyard where there’s a barbeque pit and a lagoon-like pool.
“This is it,” Harlow says, turning to me with a smile. “This is our home.”
“I thought you were being silly when you said we’d feel it. How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes you have to trust your gut.”
It’s not the way I would’ve shopped for a house. I would’ve made a checklist and then gone home and written down the pros and cons of every place. But as usual, Harlow is completely right. Some things need to be done from the gut.
“We want to put in an offer,” I tell Angela without hesitation.
“You’re sure? I can show you more houses. There’s no need to rush such a big decision,” she cautions.
“We’re sure,” Harlow says.
“Okay, let’s go back to my office, and we can start the paperwork.”
By the end of the day, we have an accepted offer.
“Just think, in a couple of months, we can be doing this poolside at our very own house,” Harlow says with a happy sigh as we sit on the fire escape outside of his apartment and sip sangria he mixed up to celebrate.
“I can’t wait to move in and make it our own,” I agree, imagining nights by the pool like he’s describing, no doubt sans clothing.
“I have a lot of decorating ideas,” he assures me, and I chuckle. Something tells me it would be smart to be a bit nervous about that news, but my heart is too full to feel anything but happiness. As far as I’m concerned, he can fill the house with African fertility statues, and I would still be glad to share the space with him.
“I’m sure you do.”
He sets down his drink and crawls onto my lap, kissing me until we’re both breathless and horny. But neither of us makes a move to go inside. It’s too nice of a night to rush in. Instead, we kiss and drink, reminiscing about the past and planning for our future long into the night.
