Page 89

When Caspian lived there, everything had been dark: black leather sectionals, dark walls, chrome fixtures, and heavy curtains that made the rooms feel more like a luxurious bachelor pad than a family home.

He had expensive taste, but his obsession with black sometimes made me wonder if the man was allergic to color. If I allowed him to decorate the entire mansion without interference, every room probably would’ve looked like somebody’s luxury funeral home.

Now, the living room was almost unrecognizable.

The old black sectional had been replaced with a massive cream-colored sofa with deep seats and oversized cushions. Two curved accent chairs sat near the windows, and a beautiful glass coffee table rested on a thick, textured rug. The walls were painted a warm neutral shade, with elegant artwork and lighter curtains that allowed the afternoon sunlight to brighten the entire space.

The room still had that expensive, sophisticated feel Caspian loved, but it was softer now, more inviting. It actually felt like somewhere a family could gather instead of a place where somebody was about to negotiate a million-dollar drug deal.

I reached out and ran my fingers along the back of the sofa, admiring the luxurious fabric.

“Wow,” I murmured, taking another moment to appreciate the transformation.

Willow stepped up beside me and let out a low whistle. “This looks like a luxury retreat where people drink sparkling water with cucumber slices.”

I chuckled, then put my attention on my Granny, who was walking slowly across the threshold, one hand resting against the entry table as she took in the soaring staircase and polished marble.

“How you feeling, Granny?” I asked, moving over to take her elbow. “The air isn’t too thin or drafty in here, is it?”

“The air feels wonderful, baby,” Granny said, her eyes sweeping across the room. “Light and clean. You never told me this house was this grand.”

I smiled softly, helping her step down into the living area. “It’s always been this grand, Granny. It just looks… a little different now.”

Willow walked over to one of the chairs and dropped into it with a dramatic groan. She sank back into the cushions, let her head rest against the fabric, and closed her eyes.

“Oh, yeah. This is it.”

I looked at her. “What?”

“This chair has generational wealth stitched into the seams,” Willow said without opening her eyes. “You sit in this thing, and your credit score automatically goes up fifty points.”

Kaidence immediately ran over and tried to climb onto the edge of the cushion. “Move, Auntie! I want to sit in the magic chair!”

Willow opened one eye. “Excuse you? There is an entire football field of a sectional behind you, child.”

“I want that one!”

“Then sit on my lap.”

Kaidence frowned, puffing out his chest. “I’m too big for laps.”

“Then stand on your own two feet like a grown man.”

He ignored her completely, climbing directly onto her lap and wriggling until he was comfortable. Willow rolled her eyes, but her arms automatically wrapped around his waist to keep him steady.

Granny chuckled from the sofa. “Y’all going to wear out the furniture before we even unpack.”

“Not me!” Willow shot back. “If something breaks, Kaidence did it.”

“I did not!” Kaidence gasped.

“See? Already trying to evade accountability.”

She tickled his stomach until he squealed with laughter.

I stood there watching my family fill the room with laughter and warmth, and the tension I’d been carrying since the fire finally began to ease.

There was no lingering smell of smoke, no cramped hotel suite forcing us into each other’s space, and no strangers passing outside our door at all hours. We finally had room to breathe, somewhere Granny could recover comfortably, and Kaidence could play without being confined to a small space.