Gem gushes throughout the tour. Stellan’s house is situated deep in South Philly in a quiet neighborhood. The street is narrow and paved with cobblestones. He owns almost the entire block, and the house is absolutely massive. It’s one of those ancient Philadelphia Victorians, most of which are in disrepair, but Gem’s right. This one’s been lovingly restored over the years, and now there are more rooms than a single man could possibly occupy.
The movers carry our things inside. Stellan appears intermittently, half helping direct our furniture and half showing us around. He takes us to the third floor and gestures at the hall. “This will be Gem’s.”
“Which room is mine?” she asks, poking her head into one.
“All of them.”
She turns around, eyebrows raised in alarm. “Are you joking?”
“I assume you’d be more comfortable this way. You’ll have your own bathroom, bedroom, an office, and a small library. The door to the stairs locks if you need more privacy.”
I swear, Gem starts vibrating with excitement. She’s mature and brilliant, but still a teenage girl who reads too much. I bet she’s freaking out at the idea of having her own floor at the top of a beautiful mansion with a freaking stairwell door that locks. She’s probably picturing herself going on adventures into Narnia or something.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him as we go back down to the second floor together. Gem’s still upstairs bouncing from room to room and trying not to scream. “She’d be fine down here.”
“The place is empty anyway. Someone should use the third floor. Might as well be her.”
I nod slightly as Stellan takes me to the far end of the hall. I pause, not sure I want to follow, but eventually force myself to step into the master room.
A huge bed dominates the back wall. There’s a dresser, an enormous walk-in closet, en suite bathroom, and beautiful furniture. “I thought you’d sleep in a coffin. You know, like a vampire?”
“Hilarious.”
“This is nice though. I mean, really nice.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I figured it would be more—” I shrug a little, gesturing around. “You know.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re a single guy… living alone… with a dangerous job…” I trail off, realizing how silly I sound.
“You expected dead bodies and empty whiskey bottles?”
“Pretty much.”
“I hate to disappoint you. I could always procure a corpse if you want.”
“Pass. Thanks though.” I sit on the edge of the bed and bounce slightly. I glance over my shoulder and try to imagine him lying down beside me, his big body taking up all that space and putting out heat like a campfire. He watches me from across the room, clearly trying to let me acclimate myself. “This is weird.”
“I understand what you’re feeling.”
“Are you sure I can’t have my own room?”
“That’s not negotiable. If you’re going to be my wife, you’re going to act like it.”
I tilt my head and turn away, thinking I’d rather act like we’re married but estranged, though I doubt he’d think that’s funny. For how young and handsome he is, he’s also strangely conservative and old-fashioned.
Which is how I know he won’t like this next part.
“I need to tell you something.” I clear my throat, working up the courage as he comes closer.
“What’s that, wife?”
“Can you skip the playful nickname?”
“There’s nothing playful about being married to me.”
