He looks down at the spot on the floor he was just cleaning and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Okay.”
“What—” I stammer and take in my bright living room. “What have you been doing?”
“Well, I cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed your rugs, did our laundry, and cleaned the floors. Then I cooked us dinner.”
I gesture to the mess in the corner. “And the boxes?”
With a knowing smirk, he leans the wet-jet against the wall. He stands before me, casting a shadow with his height, and says, “Upstairs.”
“What did you?—”
Christian takes my hand and kisses my knuckles before he intertwines our fingers. “Can I show you?”
I nod. “Okay, but Christian?—”
Christian kisses my cheek softly and I forget what I was thinking, what I was worried about in the first place.
“Trust me,” he says, then he leads me up the stairs and toward my bedroom.
I trust him with my life.
“Christian, what did you do?”
“Just…” Christian pauses outside the door of the empty, spare room and puts his hands tightly around my hips. “I hope you don’t mind?—”
“You already did it.” I chortle, amused. “It’s a little late if Idomind.”
He chuckles softly, a smile on his perfect lips. “Alright then…I just hope you like it.”
“I probably will,” I say quietly.
Christian gives me a wink and smile combo, and he pushes open the door, and it’s…
The first thing I see are the open windows with new white curtains, the sun pouring in. Then a cream colored loveseat—big enough for me to lie back while reading— against the wall between the two wide windows.
The once, plain empty room is now filled with sunlight and…
Tall white bookcases decorating what used to be empty walls in the way I had planned to do eventually. And Christian somehow knew exactly how I had imagined—the love seat, the floor to ceiling shelves, the bright space.
His hand is firm on the small of my back and he kisses my bare shoulder. “Lana?”
I’m gaping at the empty bookcases. “You built me…book cases?”
He nods. “All your books are in stacks on the floor and I know you don’t like that, they’re too precious to you.”
I choke on a tearful laugh.
“I just wanted to do this for you,” he says, his arms coming around me and holding me back against his chest. “I know you like to organize them differently so I separated them in stacks by author. I can help you. If you want. Well, Iwantto help you.”
He’s so fucking cute when he’s nervous. “Christian…”
“I can pay you rent,” he says quickly.
I blink and turn in his arms. “What?”
“For staying in your guest room,” Christian clarifies, pushing back his hair in a way that flexes his arms. “I can pay you rent. Or I’ll pay our electric or water bill or something. And I’ll buy the groceries every week.”
I’m gaping and blinking at him. “Are you insane?”
