“Someone hasn’t denied my claim.” She stays quiet, but I want an answer. “So? Will you come with me to pick outourhouse?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Gabriel.”
My heart deflates at her lack of enthusiasm, but I’m not giving up yet. Zalea may have lost hope for a future where we’re together, but I still haven’t.
“It’s actually areallygood idea, Z,” I say, planting a kiss on her forehead. “How are you supposed to marry someone you haven’t lived with yet?”
“What?” She looks up at me again.
“Yeah, like what if the way I do my laundry is a deal breaker? Or what if I leave the toilet seat lid up? Aren’t these things you want to know before you commit to a lifetime together?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The marriage pact,” I say, swallowing back my nerves. This is the first time I’ve brought it up since the day I helped save her old dog, Sprinkles.
She blinks twice. “You remember that?”
I nod. “You said it was still on,” I say, softly. “And you turn thirty this year.”
Zalea struggles to hide her surprise as she stares back at me, and I hold my breath waiting to see what her answer will be. She steps back, her body no longer resting on mine, and begins rinsing her hair.
“Alright,” she says finally. “Let’s find a home”
She turns her back to me and I bite back my grin, because for the first time in years I feel like I might actually be breaking down the walls she built to keep me out.
FIFTEEN
ZALEA | FLORENCE
When Gabrielfirst mentioned house hunting yesterday, I should have known better than to assume he meant a modest apartment. Instead, we’ve spent the entire morning touring a seventeen-bedroom villa tucked into the rolling Tuscan countryside.
The property has a sprawling hedge maze unfolding across the front lawn, trimmed to perfection, and behind the house an infinity pool spills into the hills. The place is large enough to host two surf teams…or a royal ball. Maybe even both at once.
“What do you think of this property?” Antonio asks. Gabriel’s real estate agent stands near the windows, clipboard tucked beneath his arm.
“It’s a beauty,” Gabriel says, his eyes sparkling with the unmistakable shine of expensive possibilities. But when he looks at me, his smile falters. “You don’t like it?”
I offer them both a sheepish grin, turning slowly as if the marble floors and vaulted ceiling might suddenly shrink if I stare long enough. “Well…it’s a bit far from Florence.” I hesitate, then add, “And it’s a bit too big for my taste.”
“Well that won’t do,” Antonio says, glancing down at his clip board. “The next three properties I have scheduled are even larger than this one. All in Tuscany.”
“Cancel them,” Gabriel says immediately. “And please give us a moment.”
Antonio nods, already pulling his phone from his satchel as he steps out onto the terrace. The doors slide shut behind him, leaving me alone with Gabriel.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I frown. “Why are you apolog?—”
“I should have asked what kind of place you wanted before booking in all these tours.” He takes my hands in his, thumb brushing over my knuckles in slow, absentminded strokes. “That was selfish of me.”
“It’s alright?—”
“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head. “But I’ll do better. Tell me what you want in a home, and I’ll make it happen.”
I glance around again, at the cavernous space. “ I definitely don’t want anything this big. This is practically a palace.”
“Living like royalty is a no. Got it,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.
