Page 32 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

THIRTEEN

Jules stood in front of the new apartment building, their heart a mess of anticipation and anxiety.

Keaton’s crew had been working on the building for over a month, and he’d gotten out of bed this morning excited to show Jules the progress.

His excitement was contagious, evident in the way he moved through the space with a confidence that suggested he could already envision every detail perfected.

He claimed he wasn’t creative, but he definitely was in his own way.

He took Jules’s hand, leading them upstairs.

It was amazing to see how much airier everything felt with one wall taken out in the lobby.

Jules could definitely see themself living here.

“It looks great, Keaton. You should be really proud of what you’re doing here.

I bet it’ll take no time at all to get all the units rented. ”

Keaton walked ahead of Jules to turn on the lights in the upstairs hall. This floor was still untouched compared to what they’d seen so far.

“Check this out,” Keaton called, his voice echoing through the unfinished space. He unlocked a door at the end of the hall. “Picture waking up to this light every morning.”

Jules followed him, their steps hesitant.

The apartment was still skeletal, wires hanging from the ceiling and walls rough with drywall tape and mud.

Yet, the potential was undeniable. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the floor in warm, inviting patterns.

It was easy to imagine the room filled with plants and vibrant artwork, the kind of sanctuary Jules had always dreamed of.

Their eyes traced the sunlight’s path, imagining how they would set up the space. It felt like a dream to have a studio set up outside their bedroom for the first time ever. Some of the furniture Keaton had convinced them to put in storage would even look good in the space.

But no matter how excited they were for the prospect of a place of their own, the anticipation was tamped down by Jules trying to figure out what this meant for their future.

Keaton’s vision for the apartment was clear, but the uncertainty of what this change signified for their relationship clouded their thoughts.

“It’s beautiful,” Jules murmured, trying to inject enthusiasm into their voice. But they couldn’t shake the undercurrent of anxiety that threaded through their veins. The idea of moving, of possibly altering the dynamic they had with Keaton, was both thrilling and terrifying.

Keaton turned to them, his expression expectant, yet gentle.

“When I did our first walk-through after telling you about the place, I thought this unit would be perfect for you. You mentioned liking natural light, and with the living area being wide open, I figured you could use part of it for a studio and the rest for entertaining.”

He took Jules’s hand again. It was clear he was proud of what he’d accomplished so far and hoped Jules saw his vision.

When he opened what wound up being the bedroom door, they expected more unpainted drywall and exposed subfloors.

Their breath caught in their throat at what greeted them.

While there was no furniture in the space, this wasn’t like any rental unit they’d ever seen.

The walls were sage and the flooring was blond hardwood, or at least something made to look like hardwood.

“If you don’t want this color, I can repaint it, but you seemed to like it in your room at home.”

Home . The word felt like a knife in the heart to Jules.

Keaton’s place was home for now, but how much longer would that last?

Surely, Keaton would have to wait until all the units were ready before letting anyone move in, but if there were other units this far along, they didn’t expect it to take long at all.

“No, this is good.” It was difficult getting the words out around the lump in their throat.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Keaton wrapped his arms around Jules from behind, pulling them against his chest. He pressed his lips to the hollow under Jules’s ear. “If you want something different, just say the word. Not all the units are laid out the same. We can look at others if you’d like.”

The thoughtfulness behind his words struck a chord, and Jules felt a warmth spread through their chest. Keaton’s desire to create a space for them spoke volumes, even if the words remained unspoken.

Jules forced a smile, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. “No, it’s nothing like that. This place is amazing.”

Keaton’s face softened, and he reached for their hand, a steady, grounding gesture.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I want to make sure it’s perfect for you.

” His thumb gently brushed back and forth against Jules’s stomach.

The tension in their shoulders eased. How could it not when Keaton was being so sweet?

“Let’s go back downstairs for now. I wanted to ask your opinion about something. ”

“Not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’m willing to give it a shot.” Jules didn’t know the first thing about construction, but they appreciated Keaton trying to include them.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Keaton motioned toward the unpainted wall in front of them.

“I want to do something here. I could find some framed pieces to hang, but I want something different. During the Art Crawl, I realized this was the perfect space for a mural of some sort. Something that’ll welcome people home. ”

The mention of a mural tugged at the creative part of Jules that thrived on challenges.

“That sounds…amazing,” Jules replied softly, squeezing Keaton’s hand in thanks.

Despite their fears, a part of them dared to hope that this place could hold something wonderful for them both.

“I’m sure you could find someone to help you with that. ”

Keaton placed their hands on Jules’s shoulders, forcing them to make eye contact.

“I don’t want someone , Jules. I want you.

I wish you’d heard the way people were talking about what you’re doing on the side of the bakery.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how different it is from all the other displays along Main Street.

The first one you did, you tried to follow the theme you were given, and it’s pretty, but this year’s is a whole other level.

It’s your vision of blending Maple Hill’s past and present to create something people crave. ”

That was…Jules had no words for how hearing Keaton’s perspective felt.

That was exactly what they’d set out to do.

To hear someone—and Keaton, at that—understand their vision meant the world to them.

“I’d be honored to sketch out a few ideas.

Maybe we can sit down and talk about what you’re looking for? ”

“I want you to take the lead if you do this. And give me an estimate because you’re not doing this for free.” Keaton’s tone was insistent. “Your talent is wasted working at the bar. I know you love it there, but seriously, you could do so much with your art.”

“Thank you for saying that.” Jules wasn’t sure they’d ever want to paint full-time.

Until now, it had been an outlet for them, something to do for fun.

Part of what held them back from pursuing art as a career was the fear that it wouldn’t hold the same allure if they were being paid to create other people’s visions.

Then again, they weren’t foolish enough to turn down money.

“I’ll think about it. What else have you been working on? ”

As they wandered through the space, Keaton continued to share his plans, pointing out potential changes and upgrades. Jules listened, half their mind on the present and the other half lost in the swirl of emotions the prospect of change stirred within them.

It was both liberating and overwhelming, and as the tour ended, Jules found themselves at a crossroads. They wanted to embrace the possibilities Keaton offered, but they couldn’t ignore the fear that whispered insidiously, warning of what could be lost in the process.

After they left the apartment building, Jules’s mind buzzed with the possibilities and uncertainties that the morning had laid bare.

The sunlight felt different on their skin as they stepped outside, a little warmer, a little brighter, as if the world had subtly shifted on its axis.

Keaton walked beside them, their hands brushing occasionally, a silent reminder of the connection they shared.

Keaton paused before they reached the car, turning to face Jules with a soft, searching look in his eyes. “I hope I didn’t overwhelm you back there,” he said, concern threading through his words. “I just wanted you to see the possibilities.”

Jules nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I know, and I’m grateful for it. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?”

He squeezed their hand gently, a comforting pressure that spoke volumes. “I get it. I’m sure you’re looking forward to having your own space where you can be as messy as you like without me picking up after you.”

“I do try to be mindful,” Jules replied. Their bigger concern was Keaton getting tired of feeling like a maid. It wasn’t that Jules was a slob, more that they didn’t always think to pick up every little thing the very second they set it down.

Jules took a deep breath, trying to clear their head. There were still so many thoughts jostling for attention, and they needed space to sort through them. “I think I’ll head over to the bookstore for a bit. Clear my mind.”

Keaton released their hand, but not without a final, lingering touch. “Take your time. I’ll be at home when you’re done.”