“Buy a big Turkish rug,” I suggested. “Not a super red one, something with a little blue in it. And we need a sitting area in here; it’s like a porno set.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t realize you were intimately familiar with what porn sets looked like. I’m starting to think I was sold a bill of goods.”
He reached up to cup my face momentarily.
“How about this one?” he asked, holding out his phone to me. “Does this rug meet your approval?”
I almost choked on a piece of pasta.
“It’s almost a hundred thousand dollars.” The words came out in a squawk. “Can’t you find something at Target?”
“You said a Turkish rug.”
“Not a one-of-a-kind antique.”
“Do you like it?” he pressed. “You’re the one who wants a rug.”
“So you’re perfectly fine walking around on freezing-cold floors?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “I’ve survived this long.”
“It’s like living with an animal,” I told Gizzy. “No offense to present company.”
I took the phone and looked at the rug. It was oversized with a symmetrical pattern. Because it was vintage, it was worn in some places more than others, giving the rug a nice patina. It wasn’t too red or too pink and did have some nice blue-and-green highlights.
“It is a beautiful rug,” I admitted, “but I’m not going to be the one to tell you to buy it. I can’t; it’s too much for me.”
“But are you saying I have excellent taste?”
“You’re sleeping with me, so obviously yes,” I teased, running my hand over his bulging bicep.
Grayson took the phone back and pressed a button.
“Done. It’s bought. Should be arriving in a couple of weeks.”
I took a long sip of wine.
“Gosh, that was stressful.” I lay back on the pillows.
Grayson fed me a bite of cake.
“I wish I had some more of the burrata,” I mused.
“I’ll have the restaurant bring you some,” he offered.
“That is way too extra.”
“Says the woman who runs around handing out stickers to people.” He took a sip from the wineglass and typed something in on his phone.
“Just for that, we’re watching a double feature,” I said, “101 DalmatiansthenThe Little Mermaid.”
“No.” His expression that was open and relaxed a moment ago was now dark and stormy. “I’m not.”
44
GRAYSON
