Coming out of my head, I shut the door and let Dizzy off his leash. After setting the paper bag holding our food on the counter in the kitchen, I head through the living room toward Willow’s bedroom in the back of the house. The door is already open when I get there, and I find Dizzy up on the bed, trying to burrow his way under the covers to get to my sister.

“Dizzy dude, seriously, your breath stinks,” Willow grumbles, poking her head out, sitting up, and pulling Dizzy into her lap while petting him. “You need to get him some doggie breath mints,” she tells me, and I roll my eyes at her. “Did you get my soup?”

“I did. Do you want to eat in here, or do you feel like getting out of bed?”

“I should probably get up. I’ve been in bed all day. This flu is kicking my ass.” She tosses back the blanket and scoots to the edge of the bed with Dizzy still in her arms. “You should probably stay away from me so I don’t get you sick.”

“I never get sick,” I remind her. I can count on both my hands the number of times I’ve been sick in my life. It was a curse when we were younger, because I never had a reason to miss school and was always jealous when she and the rest of my siblings got to stay in bed all day and have Mom look after them.

“Right, I forgot you hogged all the good immune system stuff,” she responds, letting Dizzy go and standing.

“Whatever,” I laugh, watching her move slowly toward her bathroom.

“Wait.” She turns to look at me. “Didn’t you have your interview today?”

“I did.”

“And?” She raises a brow.

“I got the job.” I grin, watching her smile.

“I knew you’d get it. So when do you start?”

“In a few weeks. I need to give Dr. Brandsaw time to find a replacement.”

“Did he know you were looking elsewhere?”

“He knows my long-term goal is to work in the ER, but no, I didn’t tell him I would be looking for a job in a hospital once I passed my exam for my license.”

“You and your goals,” she mumbles, turning back toward the bathroom. “I’m happy for you!” she shouts through the partially closed door. “How happy were Mom and Dad when you told them?” she asks after I hear the toilet flush and the pipes turn on.

“Happy. Mom tried to talk me into moving in with them,” I say, walking across the room and leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb, watching while she washes her hands and face.

Meeting my gaze in the mirror, her eyes widen in horror. “Are you going to do that?”

“Do I appear mentally unstable to you?” I retort.

She grins and replies, “Right?”

I shake my head. “Anyway, now I need to find a house so I’m not driving two hours a day.”

“I love house shopping, I’ll help you search.”

“Thanks, I’m going to need it.” I smile as she grabs her robe and puts it on over her T-shirt and sweats.

“Did you tell Michelle to start searching?”

“Yes, and she said she should have some houses for me to go through over the next few days,” I say, following her back through the house and into the kitchen.

“Awesome. Forward the e-mail to me when you get it, and I’ll help you go through them and narrow the list down.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” I agree, handing her the soup and a spoon.

“Thanks.” She takes it with her to the living room. Following with my Lo Mein and a fork, I pad behind her, kicking off my flip-flops, and settle in with her on the couch, tucking my feet under me.

“What do you have to watch?” I ask as she flips on the TV.

“There are a few episodes of the newest season of 90 Day Fiancé recorded. Do you want to watch it?” she asks, flipping through her recorded list on her DVR.

“Duh.” I smile, taking a bite of my noodles as she presses start on the first episode.

“I love this show,” she says halfway through the episode, and I shake my head.

“I just feel bad for most of them,” I admit, watching some poor sap fawning over a woman who is obviously not even a little bit interested in him.

“Love makes you blind,” she mutters, and I nod in agreement. She’s right. Love does make you blind, and sometimes stupid. “At least they’re brave enough to try.”

“True,” I agree softly, wondering if I will ever be brave enough to go after love the way they are. I doubt I ever will. “I saw Harlen today,” I blurt, and she presses pause on the show then turns to look at me.

“You did?”

“When I was leaving the hospital after my interview, I saw him in the parking lot.”

“What happened? What did he say?”

“Nothing much. He asked what I was doing, so I told him about getting the job. And then he asked me to celebrate with him.”

“Celebrate?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Did you take him up on his offer?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Why the hell not? I thought you said you think he’s hot.”

“He is hot. I just… I just couldn’t,” I admit, and she studies me closely then lets out a sigh.

“Not all aspects of your life can be planned out, written down, and scheduled. You need to live a little and have some fun.”

“I have goals, things that are important to me,” I defend myself.

“Yes, and you always meet your goals, but some events won’t fit on one of your lists of things you need to do.”

“You’re right.”

“Next time he asks yo—”

“If there is a next time,” I cut her off and correct her, not wanting to get my hopes up that there will be a next time. It was a fluke that I saw him today.

“Fine, if there is a next time.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, do you really want to look back on your life in fifteen or twenty years and think about all the things you missed out on because you were afraid to take a chance?”

“No.”

“Exactly, you don’t. So in order for that not to happen, you need to start living a little,” she scolds gently. “Seriously, I love you, but I don’t get you sometimes,” she grumbles, before pressing play on the TV. I pull in a breath then press my lips together. I don’t know if I will be able to do what she is telling me I should do, but I know she’s right. I don’t want to look back on my life and have regrets.

Chapter 1

Harmony

“THIS IS PERFECT,” I SAY as I spin around, taking everything in. The living room is huge with a white fireplace, and white bookshelves built into the wall on either side of it. The kitchen is open to the living room and has off-white cabinets and cream-colored granite with flecks of gold and wine in its surface. It offsets the pretty dusty rose-colored long cabinet separating the kitchen from the living room, with a butcher block top and three clear glass pendent lights hanging over it. Tipping my head back, I look up at the tall white ceilings with dark beams running upward, meeting in the middle, where there is a decorative crystal chandelier. Dropping my eyes to the floor, I check out the dark wood under my feet that seems to run through the entire house.

“You haven’t seen the bedrooms,” Michelle says regretfully, and I look up at her. “They’re small. Most of the square footage is out here.” She waves her hand around to encompass the room we’re standing in.

“I don’t care. I love it,” I tell her honestly, looking around the room again.

This has to be the hundredth house I have looked at since I started my search. I gave up on finding somewhere four weeks ago after I started my job at the hospital in town. Michelle assured me that she would find me a house, but I destined myself to an hour-long commute every day to and from work. When Michelle called me this morning and told me that she had a place I just had to see, I agreed to meet her before work, even though I didn’t really want to. Now, I’m glad I did.

At just over fifteen hundred square feet, it’s everything I was looking for and more.

“If you’re sure about this place, we need to put in an offer. The owner did me a favor letting you see it before she officially put it on the market. I know when that happens everyone and their mother is going to fight for it.”