Page 125 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

He was, otherwise, a perfect cat. So long as he didn’t need to be pushed into the little travel carrier. The irony of him never meeting a box he didn’t love to squeeze his fat butt inside wasn’t lost on me.

Twenty tense minutes later, we had a yowling cat in a carrier as we rode the private elevator up to the penthouse.

Gav bought a penthouse for us.

When I’d shot him a wide-eyed look as he unlocked the elevator, he’d shrugged and told me I would understand when I saw it.

I was dubious about that.

Until we stepped off the elevator into the apartment and I saw the longest wall that ran nearly the whole length of the building—covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

“Oh my God,” I groaned.

“More than enough room for all our books. Future books. And future children’s books. Since we will obviously be raising a reader.”

Plot Twist had the floor-to-ceiling windows I promised. We had a giant kitchen that would likely sit mostly unused, save for coffee making and takeout-plating. But it was pretty nonetheless.

“It’s a little white,” Gav said.

“A little?” The entire penthouse was washed in white. “But that’s kind of part of the fun. Making it ours. And we can hire Anthony’s company to do the work.”

Gav shot me a smile, like he did anytime I included his family in our lives.

As if I could help it.

They were my family now too.

In all the ways I had hoped. Yet infinitely more.

When Gav and I caught the flu the winter before, it had been a revolving door of aunts and cousins who came not only to fill our fridge with ready-to-heat soups, stews, and pasta dishes, but cleaned our apartment, washed our laundry, and brought us endless tea.

For my last birthday, I’d thought the day of browsing the shelves at The Strand, drinking coffee, and eating sweet treats with Gav had been perfect. Until he led me into the restaurant for dinner to find the Costas had rented the whole thing out and everyone was there to celebrate me.

I’d made a fool of myself by crying.

But I’d had the time of my life.

I had people to get coffee with, shop for cozy seasonal decor with, sit with me when I was anxious about something.

It was everything I never knew I so badly needed.

“I’ll just let out PT then I have something else you really need to see,” Gav said, pulling his sleeve over his fingers as he reached to the front of the carrier and undid the lock while Plot Twist viciously tried to claw him through the cage.

The second he emerged, though, he whacked his body against Gav’s legs like a completely different cat.

He ran off to check out the windows while Gav pressed a hand into my lower back and led me through the cavernous common room and down the hallway.

“An office, I figured,” he said at the door to the first—somewhat small—room. “Then there are two guest rooms. They share the en suite.”

And they were the perfect size for kids’ rooms. Even if they ended up needing lots of bookshelves or gaming stations.

“That’s the primary. We will get to that,” he said, but led me across the hall toward another door. “This is for all your seasonal stuff,” he said, pushing open the door to a room as big as the guest rooms, featuring massive shelves clearly meant to hold plastic totes.

“Oh, this is perfect,” I said, eyes huge. “There’s even enough floor space for a table so we can use it as a wrapping room for Christmas.”

Which we objectively needed with how many people we had to shop for.

“You really thought of everything,” I said, feeling a little emotional, and we hadn’t even gotten to our room yet.