I nod slowly, less afraid than I should be. “Hit me.”
“I want to send the interior designer the floor plan of your bedroom too. If you’reokay with that.”
It should feel intrusive. But all I feel is seen.
“I am.”
“Okay. Truth is we already talked after I hung up with Callie—you take really long showers—and she said she needs references of furniture and overall styles you like.” Mia braces for impact, but since I remain silent, she carries on, “If you send some over this afternoon, she can come tomorrow with sketches.”
“So everyone you work with moves at your pace?”
“Not always. But I make sure my clients are top priority.”
Clients. Right. There's my reality check. I’m just another project.
“Thank you. You’re right. That’s a good idea.” She rolls her lips, clearly containing a massive victory grin. “You always get goosebumps when a man admits he’s wrong?” I ask.
She fucking beams at me. “Every single time.”
I nudge her playfully.
“I like seeing you smile,” Mia says, voice soft.
“Didn’t do it much before you moved in. So, thanks for that too, Trouble.”
She gasps. “You didnotruin the sweetest compliment ever by calling me Trouble.”
“Trouble is a compliment. Trust me.”
I don’t explain it. Don’t think I ever will.
“Okay, one more thing before you start your dream-room board.”
Dream-room board. I chuckle at how her brain works. “What?”
“I’ve been flat, excuse my British, apartmenthunting for Liam and April, and a realtor came back with a private opening to see a penthouse I know Liam will love, and I’m hoping April will too. Liam asked me to visit the place with them. That’d mean I’d miss Lily’s drop-off tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “Let’s make you a set of keys before we pick Lily up today.”
She nods, but there’s a flicker of surprise like she didn’t expect it to be that easy.
Maybe that’s on me. Maybe I’ve been too rigid. Too closed off. Too focused on surviving the day-to-day to realize how much smoother everything’s become since she got here. How much difference it makes when you let someone in.
No. Not someone.Her.
Mia leans back slightly in her seat, spinning her pen between her fingers. Her eyes dart back to the screen—I’m sure already thinking about what’s next, what else needs fixing.
I watch her. Watch her be this steady, beautiful storm that’s taken over my house in a matter of days.Client. That word still stings. She said it so easily, reminding me that this is temporary.
Soon she’ll take on another project. Another job. More suited to her impressive skills. I watch her work. And wonder how long I’ve got before she leaves everything better than she found it—and walks away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
mia
For the restof the afternoon, the doctor works on his assignment, and I pretend to get back to mine. The personal one I started before boarding the plane here. At first, we sit on opposite ends of the sofa at a civilized distance. But for the life of me, I can’t focus on what I’m doing with Preston in the vicinity.Gray joggers? Really?
I’ve never suffered from too much inspiration before—didn’t even know that was a thing—yet here we are. And there he is, sitting directly across from me, looking criminal in daylight.
