“So, you’re saying,” she bites down on her bottom lip nervously, “that we’d be roommates?”
I like how that sounds. “Yeah. With Eden. But she’s hardly around.”
I leave that last part hanging between us. A small nugget of information. A quiet invitation. A subtle way of saying—it’ll be just us, most nights.
She hesitates. “I see…”
I smile. “Need help moving anything over?”
“For how long?”
Okay, she isn’t as eager about this as I am.
“Should be just a week until my guy can come out and fix things up.”
“A week? There’s no one who can come fix this sooner?”
I shake my head. “Not unless you want to pay for it.”
She chews her lip, clearly unsure on what to do. “No, I definitely don’t have the money to pay for this and there’s no way I’m moving back in with my grandma. She’s already turned my old room into her own personal yoga studio, and the attic has… you know… the ghost.” She shivers.
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I don’t ask about her grandma’s ghost.
“I’ll just grab a few things from my room and bathroom. Then I guess I’ll walk down.”
I nod, even though every inch of me wants to insist on carrying her bags myself, I can see she needs a moment to process thefact that’s about to share a home with me.
“Call me if you need anything,” I tell her, voice low. “I’ll see you down there in a bit.”
She hesitates, then nods, biting her lip again—like she’s still weighing it all out. “Thank you, Gabriel. For giving me a place to stay.”
I smile. “Not a problem.”
I’m already sure that this might be the best, house fail I’ve experienced yet.
Chapter 18: Alessia
I thought the water pressure in my bathroom was nice, but the upstairs bathroom that Gabriel, Eden, and I now share in his home??
Waybetter.
It’s the kind of water pressure that makes you close your eyes and let out a sinful little moan as the heat works its way into your muscles. Gabriel must have installed some sort of water softener in here too because I can feel my skin start to smooth and gentle. It’s not harsh like the direct stream of boiling water I blast at myself in Natasha’s.
It’s obvious the Carpenter house has been taken care of by a man who knows exactly what he’s doing and weaves pride into everything his hands touch. The place is solid, well-built, every detail intentional. New hardwood floors stretch through both levels of the home, the walls are painted in carefully chosen shades—warm taupe, deep greens, soft blues—that tie everything together with an easy, lake house luxury feel.
It’s the kind of house that smells like cedar and clean linen, like coffee brewing in the morning and the crisp bite of thewinter air slipping through the cracks when you step outside. It’s nothing like the home that Natasha and I are currently living in that’s seen better days and needs some serious repairs.
Even Rhiannon’s old room—though still looking like she could walk in at any moment—is well maintained. It smells clean, the windows look like new, and the floor is swept. The bed, though, is not nearly as comfortable as the new one that I splurged on at Natasha’s place which might be an issue since I love my sleep.
I step out of the shower, toweling off. My skin is still flushed from the heat, but it’s not dry despite the cold, winter weather. I take in the little details of the bathroom—light green tiles stretching from the shower to the sink, rose gold fixtures catching the glow of the vanity lights.
There’s something about the combination that feels fresh, expensive, and thoughtful. I remember the quick glimpse I got of the building he and Roman are building in New York before I went to the bar where I kissed him that first night. It was apparent even then that he knows what he’s doing with a renovation. He sees the vision when it’s still bones and then follows it through like he does with everything in life. I wonder how much of this was Eden’s creativity and vision and how much was Gabriel’s execution. Or maybe both of them working together.
I met Eden briefly at game night a couple of weeks ago, but we didn’t get a chance to talk much since I was knocking back tequila shots and making heart eyes at her older brother. Now that we’re living under the same roof, I’m nervous and excited to get to know the youngest Carpenter sibling. She’s probably the closest person to Gabriel these days. He’s been like a father to her for the last fifteen years of her life. I wonder if he was a tough one or if he allowed her space to make mistakes and learn.
Something tells me it was the latter. That he was patient andkind, even when he was trying to navigate his career, divorce and all the pressure pressed on his shoulders that he wasn’t ready to take on.
I pull out my hair dryer, fingers combing through my damp curls as I work. Then lotion—cocoa butter, my favorite—gliding over my skin until I’m soft and slippery. I shaved every inch of my body for tonight, though I have no idea how things will go but you know… just in case. My makeup is light but pretty. A touch of highlighter. Just a little mascara. Lips plumped and glossy. I hope it’s enough to mask my nerves.
