“Looks like it.”
“I’ll tell Justin. He was hoping to see him at the wedding, but…”
Yeah, not sure what’s going on with Griff. Any other time, I’d definitely bring it up to the Bitch Brigade, see what we know and if there’s anything we can do, but one thing at a time.
“I’ll bring the food around five. You’re on your own for dessert though. Hope that’s okay,” Chloe says before hanging up.
“We’re all set for tonight,” I tell Noah. “Just need to know how long Gail will be here for.”
“Colton just notified me the meeting is set for tomorrow,” Noah says, pocketing his phone.
That’s a relief. “No advance notice needed?”
“It’s just an informational meeting, so no.” He fidgets with his phone. “I should get back to the store for a bit. Dean’s knee is acting up with the rain.”
I nod. “Before you go,” I say, suddenly remembering. “Lane said Gail might be snooping around. Did you put the prenup and the…othercontract somewhere she won’t find them?”
Noah narrows his eyes on me. “Completely forgot about that.”
“It would put us in an awkward position if she found them. Especially theothercontract.” The one Noah insisted on drafting, explaining his financial support in exchange for us getting married.
He pushes his glasses on his nose and goes to the desk. Opening the top drawer, he pulls out a sealed manila envelope. “Prenup,” he says, waving it in front of me. “Never sent it back to the lawyer.” He walks to the fireplace and drops it in.
“Noah!” My heart clenches as the paper hits the embers. “No!” I say. But the paper curls, hesitating, then bursts in flames, throwing a bright light into the room. “Why?”
Noah pulls another envelope and hands it to me. “The contract looking over your interests. I’ll put it in the safe. Where’s your copy?”
My gaze fixed on Noah, I snatch the contract from him and step to the fireplace.
“Willow!” Noah starts, but one look from me and he quiets as I drop the two-pager in the fire, where flames engulf it.
“I burned mine a long time ago.”
Noah pulls me into him for a kiss. His body is vibrating with tension but as I melt into him, he calms down. Then his heartbeat increases as I deepen our kiss, his stubble chafing my lips in a way I can’t get enough of.
“I love you more than life itself,” I confess when we break the kiss, my lips still skimming his mouth. “You giving me your heart is more than I could ever dream of.”
“My little Cinderella,” he teases.
His words ignite light laughter mixed with an extra burst of love. I used to take exception to this reference. But I don’t anymore. This is my story, and I’m proud of it now.
Ironically, once Noah goes back to the store on account of Dean’s arthritis, I ditch the pretty sweater and Henley for an old sweatshirt and arm myself with a rag, wood cleaner, and a cobweb duster. “Come on, Calla. We got stuff to do.”
After taking the puppies out for their business, we lock them in the kitchen for the time being, ignoring their cries as we go do grown-up stuff like airing out bedrooms and dusting furniture.“We can’t risk having dog poop everywhere. Not right now with Cruella on her way,” I say to Calla, needing to justify myself.
I set up Rosalie (the upstairs vacuum robot) and open up the room Gail will be using, per Lane’s instructions. Calla raises her hackles and refuses to come in. “Seriously, baby, they can’t hurt you,” I coo to the dog. But she stays stubbornly rooted at the entrance, sitting on her haunches, whining. “Lot of help you are,” I pretend to complain.
The room smells stale, dusty, and downright old. I’ll start with the cobwebs and make my way down. “Seems like no one’s been in here in years,” I say, opening the windows wide, letting fresh air in.
Located at the back of the main house, the large bedroom is equipped with its own fireplace. It has a four-poster bed, period furniture, bronze sconces, and oriental area rugs. I ditch my shoes and climb on an upholstered side chair to dust the crystal chandelier. Luckily the room has no chachkas, which adds to its austerity but also makes dusting a quick task.
Wiping the antique mirror, I’m pleased to notice that we’ll be getting the support we need from the other residents in the house. Because my face is not the only one looking back.
“Anybody home?” Kiara’s voice sounds from outside, right as the door to the bedroom slams shut. I should have used a doorstop to prevent the draft of air from shutting the door. I grab a chair to prop the door open, and turn around—only to see Elsbeth in all her gore hanging from the ceiling, in the corner between the bed and the bathroom. “Oh man, you scared me. Dude,yes,that’s perfect.”
Elsbeth graces me with a smile, curtsies, and vanishes right as the door opens. “You talking to a chair?” Kiara asks.
“Hey you! What’s up?”
