“Um, okay, but be back for dinner tonight.And text me when you get there.”
“Got it!”Bella chirps, darting toward the door.
“Bella,” Nathan calls after her.
She stops, turning with big eyes.
“Use the sidewalk.No cutting through anyone’s yard.And text when you’re ready to come home.Oh, and if you see the man who drove us here following you, that’s okay.He’s your bodyguard,” he says.
“I have a bodyguard?”
“You do,” he says, which is news to me, but considering the whole threat of Giovanni Russo hanging over our heads, I actually think it’s a good idea.
But I don’t even get a word in edgewise, because somehow Bella and Nathan have developed a trust I wasn’t even aware of.
She hugs me quick then turns and salutes him—actually salutes him—before bolting outside.
The moment the door closes, the house goes quiet.
Too quiet.
“Ad?”
My chest tightens as I look around.
The entryway gleams.
The staircase is polished.
Every wall is fresh and bright.
All of it—all of it—has been redone, restored, brought back to life.
And I’m a moron for thinking it’s for me.For us.
But I can’t help it.
There’s this spark of hope inside of me that Nathan really is here for good.
Even if it doesn’t feel real.
Even if it’s extremely unlikely.
Nathan gestures gently.
“Come on, Sparky.Let me show you the rest.”
I follow him into the living room, the kitchen, up the stairs and to Bella’s room.It’s pretty perfect for a girl her age.Ivory walls with plenty of space for posters.Big, sturdy furniture and a full size bed made up with a thick comforter and dozens of pillows.
“You outdid yourself, Nate,” I tell him as I run my hand over the soft bedding.
“She deserves it,” he says and shrugs like it’s nothing.
But it’s not nothing.
It’s everything.
“How about something to drink?”he asks.
