Another smirk.
The elevator opens.
“This place islavish,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “You know I like to work hard and play hard. And we had to have it designed so that it was comfortable enough for a long-term stay.”
Long-term stay.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “We may be leaving the premises for your prenatal visits. We don’t bring people here unless it’s necessary.”
That’s a full month away.
“You’ll like it here, though,” he says, as he stretches his shoulders and neck. His voice drops to a lower, deeper register that holds promise. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My pulse begins to pound. My mouth goes dry, and a warm sensation fills my belly.
He’ll make sure I like it here, will he?
I’m glad we moved out of his house. I’d have a hard time forgetting the memory of the prison-like room he kept me in, even if it wasn’t for long. I want to start fresh with him. Maybe this is my chance.
I look around the room. It’s elegant but functional, with modern and stylish decor—marble flooring, stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, and in the living area, comfortable seating with panoramic views of the skyline. There’s an office, a kitchen, and two sitting areas, one with an open dining room table near the kitchen. I don’t feel right about getting these floors dirty, so I kick off my shoes. I luxuriate in the soft feel of carpet underfoot.
When I walk to the kitchen, though, I brace myself for the cold of the floor beneath my feet.
I pause on the very edge of the room and look to Lyam with wide eyes.
“It’s warm,” I whisper.
“They’re heated floors,” he whispers back.
“Are youkidding me? Why?”
I like the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, almost boyish. He’s never carefree, but this is close. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.
“Because no one likes cold feet. They’re in the bathroom, too.”
This is the Lyam I’ve missed.
My heart aches, knowing that this is the Lyam I crave.
No. No, that isn’t true.
I crave every facet of Lyam. Without his hard exterior, his tenderness isn’t the same. Without his struggles, he isn’t the man he is today, the man he strives to be.
Without his past, there is no present.
Is the same true about me?
I’m not sure how to feel about any of this. I’m not sure what he wants from me. Is he only trying to butter me up?
Or can I actually accept the fact that he’s forgiven me? That he knows I’m carrying his child, and that my protection matters to him?
Why is it that being with Lyam makes me question everything? I ask as many questions as I get answers.
I walk silently to the bedroom. There’s only one, and of course it’s outfitted with a king-sized bed, decorated in shades of cream. Everything in the bathroom’s equipped with high-end luxuries—a large soaking tub, a walk-in shower with luxurious toiletries, and those heated floors like in the kitchen.
