Chapter 112
In a cab on my way to Wicker Park, I text Dani.
Gideon Stone
Are you at your apartment?
Dani Sommer
Yes. Why? You in the area?
Gideon Stone
Meet me at that house you love.
Dani and I have been together for nearly eight months. I think it’s time we start talking about moving in together. We’ve been good. Everything feels right.
Dani Sommer
Suspicious. Okay. On my way.
Seeing her round the corner, I smile and lean in to kiss her. “Would you say you’re spiritual?”
“Of course!”
I put in the code on the lockbox hanging on the gate.
“Very suspicious!” she says, watching me.
“After you talked to me about this house, I had my real estate agent reach out to the owners.”
“Oh?”
“They are going to list it next week, and I persuaded them to let us see it before it hits the market.”
“Persuaded?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I am very persuasive.” I grab her hand, and we walk up the steps.
“I know. I let you fuck me in the ass.” We both laugh and then I unlock the door, gesturing for her to enter first.
“The current owners bought two lots a few years ago, knocked the existing houses down, and built this,” I share as she looks around the open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room. “They’re architects and moving to North Carolina, which is why they’re selling.”
“I love this house,” she says, walking around. “Literally, my dream home.”
Her dream home. I like it too. I want to give her this house. It’s modern, but not overly modern. It has personality. It’s warm, not cold.
“Lots of stairs.” She giggles.
“Four flights of stairs will keep that ass tight,” I say, stalking behind her.
“It does oddly remind me of Declan’s place, even though it’s a more open concept.”
“I agree, but his is old and renovated to be new. This is new construction. A lot less maintenance.”
“There’s no way I can afford this place.”
“You sure?” I ask, disagreeing. “You could always sell the cottage.”
She grimaces. I know. I’m not supposed to bring up the cottage. She is still deciding what she wants to do with that.
“What do you think about me buying it and you living here with me?”
“Gideon.” She sighs, a mix of hesitation and surprise in her tone. “If you want to buy it, buy it.”
“What about you living with me?” The pause. She’s not ready. “No pressure,” I say, trying to keep it light.
“If you like this house, I think you should buy it,” she says, avoiding my question. “How much is it?”
“I think they are hoping for five million.” I hold her gaze, still wondering why she keeps avoiding the idea of living together.