Chapter 29
Amir
As the driver turned into my neighborhood, I felt more nervous than I’d expected.
Florida was one thing; the bar was another.
Both had their places in our timeline. This was entirely new territory, and it opened things up further between us.
Right here and now, I was inviting him inside—not just into my house.
“Mal will be here tomorrow,” I said.
Remi sat up straighter. “Really? What . . . I mean, is Avery cool with it? Does she know I’m staying here?”
“Yeah, I won’t hide things from her anymore. She feels bad, actually.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks that she was unfair to you. That she acted too harshly.”
To my surprise, he smiled. “I’ll never fault a mama bear for defending her cub.”
“Maybe you could say that to her. She’s more sensitive than she lets on.”
He took my hand and held it in his lap. “Yeah, sure. I don’t want Avery to worry on my account.”
It was getting dark out, which cast the streets in the blue hue of coming night. Some kids were still outside playing, and there was a group of them blocking the way while they played basketball. One of them waved for the others to move, letting us pass.
“This is . . . different,” Remi said as he stared out the window.
“Different how?”
“Quaint, for one.”
“And for two?”
“Normal.”
I breathed a laugh. “You didn’t expect it to be normal?”
“You signed for, what, six million this season alone?” He scoffed as if it was preposterous. “I expected a mansion on a hill. Big ol’ front yard to tell the peasants, ‘I can afford to waste space.’ A driveway that loops around because backing out is for cottiers.”
“I don’t really like living lavishly.”
“You have a Maserati.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, I got it after the divorce. I was a bit depressed.”
“Did it help?”
“Ehhh, you can’t be depressed while driving it.”
“That’s verifiably not true. It’d make wrapping yourself around a tree more fun.”
“Note to self: Don’t let Remi drive the Maserati.”
Tipping his head back, he laughed. “Man, my life is full of killjoys.”
“Nah, your friends are great.”
“They’re alright. I think I’ll keep them around.”
We pulled in front of the driveway, and I hurried to open the door so I could go around to Remi’s side. He looked surprised when I did it for him. I waited for him to take my hand, and once I’d pulled him out of his seat, I threaded our fingers, then opened the trunk to grab our bags.
“This is how I know you’ve only dated women,” he said as I slung his backpack over my shoulder. “You’re treating me with such chivalry.”
“Why shouldn’t I? Man or woman, everyone deserves to feel loved.”
He made a sound that might’ve been agreement.
Behind us, the car pulled away, leaving us alone in front of the house, staring at the picket fence that blocked off the yard.
We made our way up the driveway, then veered to the side and entered through the little gate that let out onto a path that led around to the front door.
He eyed the garden beneath the front window, which had hydrangeas that were starting to bloom.
“My neighbor’s kid waters the plants when I’m away,” I said.
“Making little entrepreneurs. That’s the American way. Is this clover?” He toed the edge of the lawn gently.
“Taking back your assumptions about me yet?”
He didn’t respond, and I found myself glancing over at him as we walked.
He groaned when we reached the steps. “A porch swing? And a welcome sign? I feel like we’ve stepped into the 1950s.”
I glanced at the “Welcome to the Darya House” sign that Roman made for me.
It hung beside the door, which was painted the same green as the wood porch.
As soon as I unlocked the door, Remi dragged me inside and kicked his shoes off neatly in the entryway.
He seemed to be on a mission, examining the place like he was searching for something.
I was positive we wouldn’t find anyone getting it on this time, so at least there was that.
He stopped in the living room and scanned every corner. “Holy hellfire.”
“Are you okay?”
“Okay?”
He released me and went over to the china hutch, which was filled with pieces that were older than my parents, brought over from Iran—blue and gold floral porcelain, figurines, some photographs.
He ran his socked foot over the patterned rug that stretched across the wood floor.
Heading over to the wall, he checked out the collection of silver spoons, then he touched the set of sunflower throw pillows on my couch.
His nose got really close to the incense sticks on the coffee table before he ran his fingers over the scratches in the wood surface.
Turning toward me, he didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “This is how Avery had it set up, right?”
“Uh, no.”
He rolled his lips inward as a smile started to break through.
“What’s your deal?” I laughed.
“Did you rob an antique store? Seriously, Amir, this can’t be your house.”
“It is my house.”
“So, you were an old lady in a past life.”
I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up. It’s timeless in here.”
“No, no, no. My bar is timeless. This smells like retirement.”
“That’s called rosewater, and I think it smells nice.”
“If I bring it to Remi’s, people will think I’m selling moonshine under the table.
” He looked at the original brick fireplace and the heavy drapes that covered the sliding door.
Turning in a circle, his eyes went to the too-narrow doorways that led to the dining room and hallway. “When was this built?”
I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. “1926.”
He tapped his foot a couple of times. “Original floors?”
“Obviously.”
Moving into the kitchen, he nodded appreciatively. “Cabinets?”
“Refinished. They’re staying until they fall apart.”
“Crown moldings?”
“Came with the house.”
“There’s gotta be a tree in the backyard.”
“Oak.”
“Gods, please tell me there’s a tire swing.”
“Added by yours truly.”
He broke into a smile. “Still counts. I have a very important question for you.”
“Shoot.” I immediately regretted my words when I remembered watching him stuff his gun into his bag when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
“Do you want to marry me, and are you open to the idea of leaving out the prenup?”
It was impossible not to laugh. “You’ve without a doubt known my net worth since before we got on that plane, but it’s the house that does it for you?”
“Money has no intrinsic value, at least since 1971—”
“More like 1933,” I corrected.
“Make it 1913.”
“Oh, I like you.”
His smile widened. “A house like this one is something I’d kill for. Most people flip them and turn everything grey, take out the walls to make it open-concept, and add a freaking barn door. It’s nauseating.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I mean, the old lady décor is a bit much.” He reached up to touch the ruffled valance on the window above the sink. “But at least it’s got character.”
“I’d say it’s better than sleeping on a cot in a bar. Where were you even showering?”
Grabbing an apple from the counter, he took a bite.
He gestured with it as he chewed slowly.
“There’s a gym right down the road. It’s good motivation to go.
But if you want the super honest answer, that dish sprayer works perfectly well, and there’s a drain in the floor, so”—he shrugged—”DIY shower. ”
“That has to be against some health code.”
“You gonna rat me out, baby?”
I put my hands on the counter beside him. When I flicked his lip with my tongue, the sweet taste of the apple made me lean in for more.
“I’d never rat you out,” I murmured. “Hell, I might even help you hide a body.”
“Funny you should mention that. I have a list.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” Taking both sides of his face, I pressed my lips to his firmly.
He hummed against me and wrapped his arms around my neck. “I have to be honest here. I’m afraid to go to your bedroom.”
I pulled back slightly. “Why?”
“You might have a porcelain doll collection in there. Frankly, I won’t tolerate those creepy eyes following me around.”
I tried to shove away from him, but he tightened his arms around my neck.
“Fine,” he said against my mouth. “I’ll tolerate it for you.” His tongue slid over mine, and he released a throaty groan. “But . . .” His teeth tugged on my lip before he sucked on it. “If I wake up to a Werther’s caramel on my pillow, that’s the last straw.”
“Shut the fuck up, Remi.”
I went for his pants, and he finally seemed to take the demand to heart.
At some point, I’d have to sneak away from him tonight.
If I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice when I grabbed those caramels from the cabinet and tossed them into the safe.
I wasn’t sure my pride could handle another round of his damn jokes, especially if he ever found out he’d been right about something.