About two years ago, my fiancé and I had the talk. You know the one—marriage, kids, goals, the kind of late-night conversation that sketches out a future. Somewhere between “What’s your dream proposal?” and “So, what kind of ring do you like?” came the big, practical question: Where do we want to live?
For him, Miami was home. He grew up there, left for college in Connecticut, pursued a career in finance, earned his MBA in Chicago, and eventually returned five years ago to be close to family. Three years ago, we met, and our story began.
I, on the other hand, had spent more than a decade in West Palm Beach—just an hour north, yet worlds apart. Some people called our setup a long-distance relationship, but to us it felt easy and natural. I kept my apartment in West Palm Beach while we renovated his Miami apartment into something more suited for the two of us. Both cities had their appeal: West Palm, with its affordability and charm, and Miami, bustling with energy, new restaurants, and, of course, family. We kept an open mind, confident that the right place would eventually find us.
The Hunt for Home
My wishlist was simple, though perhaps not practical: a historic home with beautiful natural light—preferably something from the 1920s, full of character and history. My fiancé’s list was more straightforward: “a house with good bones.” Updated plumbing, a new roof, impact windows, electrical systems that wouldn’t keep us up at night. At first, style didn’t matter to him. But over time, he began to see the magic in a house that told a story.
Easier said than done.
We toured countless homes (bless our realtor, Jennifer—also my best friend), armed with notebooks full of questions. “How much will this appreciate in five years?” “Is the wiring cloth-covered?” “Any foundation issues?” We were thorough, maybe to a fault, but we cared about finding not just a house, but the house.
Some tours became funny memories. Once, I accidentally showed up to the wrong address for an open house and ended up knocking on the door of an elderly Cuban gentleman. He graciously let us in, and though the home had potential, it needed to be gutted completely. As we stood in the backyard, my fiancé leaned in and whispered, “Absolutely not, amor.” Renovating down to the studs wasn’t in the cards—at least not for our first home together.
The House That Found Us
And then, tucked away in one of the most charming neighborhoods in South Florida, surrounded by mature tropical landscaping, we stumbled across a Spanish-style bungalow from the 1920s. It was small, yes, but it checked every box. Impact windows, updated systems, hardwood floors glowing with history, natural light pouring through every room, and even approved architectural plans for expansion.
We made an offer, expecting a counter. Instead, they accepted. Just like that, we became homeowners.
Neither of us expected our first date to turn into marriage. Neither of us expected to find a home so soon. But life has a way of surprising you when you stay open. I’ve always believed that what’s meant to be will find its way—and this house felt like proof. The previous owners wanted it to go to the right people, and somehow, we became those people.
Living in the In-Between
As tempting as it is to dive headfirst into renovations, we’ve promised ourselves patience. For now, the plan is to live in the space, learn its rhythms, notice where the light falls, and discover which rooms pull us in most.
We’ve painted everything “Simply White” by Benjamin Moore, added temporary white curtains, and started filling corners with vintage finds from OfferUp and eBay. My West Palm apartment had its fair share of pink accents—this home will feel different: relaxed elegance, textured finishes, Spanish soul, and a classic beauty that reflects our love of travel, especially to the Yucatán.
As for renovations, I’m torn. Part of me feels confident in my vision, especially with the right team. The other part of me knows that partnering with an experienced designer might be the best way to preserve the house’s charm while making thoughtful updates. Ideally, we’ll build a long-term relationship with someone who understands not just this home, but the future ones, too.
Two Homes, One Story
For now, my West Palm Beach apartment is still part of the story. It’s become The Style Bungalow’s headquarters, a creative space where my assistant and I work, and a little escape when I need a change of scenery. Over the past few months, I’ve realized some design choices I made there don’t quite reflect my evolving style. Growth is beautiful, but it also comes with a price tag. I splurged where I should have saved, and saved where I should have invested. Still, it remains a place that grounds me creatively.
A New Chapter
Life right now feels like a mix of nerves and excitement. After years of searching, we’ve found our first home together. We’ve said goodbye to the “long-distance” part of our relationship. And we’re stepping into a chapter that will be full of firsts—first dinners in our kitchen, first holidays under this roof, first messy, imperfect design decisions.
It’s the start of something new, something real, something that feels meant to be. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the best things in life—the right partner, the right home, the right timing—have a way of coming together naturally when the fit is right.
Here’s to the memories we’ll make inside these walls, and to all the ones still waiting to unfold.