Over the last few months, Tyler had opened up in pieces about his life, laying the cards down one by one. I’d started stitching together the picture. He and Travis didn’t share a dad. His mum had Travis at sixteen and that relationship burned out fast. Despite that, Trav’s dad was still very much a part ofhislife. Five years later came Tyler’s dad; an abusive alcoholic, gone by the time Tyler was five but not before he left scars deep enough to set a whole life off course. By then, his mum, barely more than a kid herself, was drinking heavily.
He told those stories offhand, like they were insignificant moments in his life. But every time, I saw it in the quiver of his eyes, in the way his thumb would pause against my leg when something slipped too close to the bone. I could only imagine what he’d carried, what he’d seen. Lucky for him, and for Travis, their uncle and Sarah had stepped in where they could. But still, no child should have had to grow up that fast.
The cab pulled through the iron gates of the house, tyres crunching over gravel, and my breath seemed to still.
The house jutted from the hillside like it had grown there, all pale stone, warm oak, and glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows caught the last of the sun, spilling molten light across the façade. Clean, modern rooflines were softened by olive trees and wild bougainvillea framing the entrance, their colours trailing toward a Spanish-style fountain in the middle of the drive. He’d shown me photos, obviously, but nothing compared to the awe of seeing it in real life.
“Jesus Christ…” I muttered, stepping out of the car. “This is it? It’s…”
“Baby, you remember I don’t make minimum wage, right? The apartment in London cost a pretty penny too,” Tyler smirked, hauling our bags out like it was nothing, his biceps flexing and catching the Californian sunlight.
I raised an eyebrow. I mean, I knew he was loaded, top three in the world currently, brand deals flying in every direction but we’d never actuallytalkedabout money. That wasn’t why I fell in love with him. Okay, he’d tried dragging me into Hermès in Vegas until I flat-out refused. I was not about to carry a bag worth more than my car. And yeah, okay, the London flat we’d just bought was…ample, shall we say.
I must’ve been gawping, because he stopped beside me, his eyes dancing.
“O, you do realise this is yours now? We didn’t sign no damn prenup.”
Fuck. I hadn’t thought about that. This wasn’t justhishouse, it was mine, too. Ours. My little Balham flat suddenly felt like a dollhouse in comparison. Realistically, I never had to work another day in my life. But Tyler knew better than to even suggest it. He knew exactly who he’d married—a woman who’d busted her arse to build her career. And he loved me for it. Plus, his hamstring basically needed me on tap.
He rounded the cab, clasped my hand in his warm, safe grip, and said, “Welcome home, Mrs Reed.”
I bit my lip but couldn’t stop the grin spreading. This place was gorgeous. Too gorgeous. My brain scrambled trying to take it all in as we dragged our cases across the driveway.
Tyler turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “Full disclosure, I only bought this place last year, and you know how little I’ve actually been here, so it doesn’t really have the full Reed feel yet,” he said casually, like we weren’t about to walk into a Selling Sunset episode.
I stepped inside and nearly lost my breath. The entryway soared up into a vaulted ceiling, a glass chandelier cascading down like falling water, spilling light over smooth stone and pale oak. A sleek staircase of solid wood and glass climbed to the second floor, where I could already count at least four bedroom doors.
“I was hoping you’d put your touch on it now that you’ll be living here,” he added.
Speechless, I just turned in a slow circle, drinking it all in.
“O…” Tyler’s voice came from behind me, laughing nervously. “You haven’t said a word in ten minutes. Please, saysomething.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Sorry, Tyler. I just, this feels like I stepped into someone else’s life.”
“Well, you better believe it, baby.” His arms slid around my waist, his mouth finding that sensitive spot just under my ear. “This is our life now. I told you I’d give it all to you.”
Heat shot down my spine, my body already softening against him when his voice dropped lower, smug and full of promise. “Now that we’re home, I’m gonna fuck you in every single room we’ve got. Order dinner in, drink champagne, then take you in the pool.”
My head snapped up. “There’s a pool?!”
He barely had time to blink before I bolted across the house, throwing open the glass doors. “Oh my God.” The words tumbled out in a squeal. “That’s not a pool, Tyler, that’s basically a private lagoon.”
Behind me, his laugh rumbled. “You’re so damn cute right now.”
“I think I’m in a dream,” I whispered, still staring out at the glittering water.
He tugged me back into his chest, his voice almost reverent. “No, baby. I’m the one dreaming. Having this perfect, smart-mouthed, drop-dead gorgeous woman standing in our house, calling me her husband.” His hands slid under my T-shirt, rough, calloused palms skating over my skin, and his lips found mine in a hungry kiss that told me exactly how serious he was about the ‘every room in the house’ plan.
My fingers were just curling into the waistband of his jeans when a voice cut clean through the fantasy.
“Hello?”
We both froze. Tyler groaned against my mouth, muttering a curse as he pulled back.
“Hi, Sarah!” he called, already resigned.
I scrambled, smoothing down my tank top and dragging my hair back into something resembling order. By the time I turned, a tall, older brunette in a well-cut blazer, sky-high heels and jeans was stepping through the open doorway, striking in that confident, effortless way. She was followed by a broad-shouldered man who looked like an older, more lived-in version of Tyler. Same shimmering green eyes, same half-smile that said he’d been born knowing more than most.
