The antique dresser and armoire.
The arched mirror.
The carved settee with velvet cushions.
The narrow side table with the oil-burnished corners.
Adrianna steps closer, fingertips gliding over a smooth edge.
“You did this,” she whispers.
It’s not a question.
“Movers and contractors did a lot of the house,” I say, suddenly too warm in my own damn skin.“But this?”I gesture to the gleaming wood, the carved details.“This was all me, Ad.”
She turns toward me, and something in her eyes makes my breath catch.
“And it’s for you,” I add, because she needs to hear it.
Needs to know it.
Needs to feel it down to her soul.
Her lips part.
She looks at me like she’s seeing the boy I was and the man I became at the same time.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
And I’m about to.
“What are you doing?”she asks, but there’s a teasing gleam in her brown eyes that tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“welcoming you home, Mrs.Thorn,” I tell her.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Nathan
Before I can doanything more than slide my lips over hers, Bella reappears, breathless and wild-eyed.
“My room has a window seat!And a giant closet!And a DESK!And—wait, is that a whole other room over there?”
She points to another set of doors.
“Yeah, that’s my personal music room,” I tell her and watch her face fall.
Then I add gently, because I can’t keep it a secret, and really, I don’t want to, “There’s one downstairs for you to use.”
She smiles, and Adrianna exhales, and fuck me, I’m filled with pride.
These two might be the most important people in the entire world to me.And for reasons I can’t name, it feels so good to have that—to have them.
“Can we see it?”Bella asks.
“Yep, come on,” I say and take Ad’s hand as we leave our room.
I lead them—my family—toward the back of the house, where a doorway opens into a small but fully soundproofed studio.
