“You should get the California king,” he adds smoothly. “Otherwise the room will swallow it.”
Sneaky bastard.
“I can have it delivered in a few hours if that’s the set you want,” I tell her. “It does come in a California.”
She nods. “Yes, please. And can I look at dining furniture? And maybe a couch or two.”
She scrolls, selecting several pieces without hesitation. “These are perfect for this house.”
I smile. “No problem. Let me call him.”
She looks up at me and smiles shyly. “Thank you, Remy, for everything. This was a lot.”
“It wasn’t, it was an hour for an old dear friend,” I wink, grinning at her, “who swore she would marry me one day, it was the least I could do.” I barely contain my laugh at the flush that rises up as she turns muttering about checking to see if Meg needs anything.
Chapter fifty-two
Christianna
Today has been a whirlwind. Everything is signed, and Brittany has left us with the keys.
I stand in the middle of the house, looking around in disbelief. I have a house. A mini mansion, really, but somehow still homey.
“Meg,” I say, “in all this furniture talk… where do you want to put your stuff?”
“Would you mind if I took the pool house?” she asks. “It’s plenty for me, and I can wander in to use the kitchen or hang out at night.”
My chest tightens. “You can have the third floor if you want. Or the big…”
“No,” she interrupts gently. “This is perfect. And it saves me from stairs.” She smiles. “It also gives you privacy, if you want it.”
I start to protest, but my stomach growls loudly, traitorously.
Remy lifts his brows. “The backyard has a patio set. It’s nice tonight. Why don’t I order pizza and we eat outside?”
I glance at him, uncertain. So much has happened today, so fast, and we have not talked. Not really.
“What toppings do you like?” he asks, hopeful.
“Anything but fish or olives.”
“Meg?”
“Same. I’ll pick things off if I need to. Oh, no pineapple either.”
“Done.” He checks his phone. “Forty minutes. Erik is in the backyard, I think.”
I head outside and am greeted by a low woof.
A white and gray dog barrels toward me.
“Oh,” I laugh, dropping to my knees as he crashes into my arms and starts licking any available skin. A soft whine follows, and I see a red dog approaching more carefully, tail wagging low, crab-walking sideways as if unsure he’s welcome.
“Well hello, baby,” I croon.
The slightly smaller dog nudges between us, determined to claim space. I laugh, talking nonsense as both dogs crowd into my lap, warm and solid and very real.
“Aren’t you the sweetest babies,” I murmur.
