“I thought the guest house would work well for the office spaces—it’s more than large enough. The main house itself has seventeen bedrooms. That’s not enough for us to find a space for a guest to sleep? We didn’t need the guesthouse for that. Better used for you and your work, right?”
Cella moved from photo to photo, saying nothing. Marcus let her. Beside Tiffany, who was so excited to show her the photos of the room she wanted to be her bedroom, waited a binder that Cella hadn’t seen in months ... possibly even longer. She didn’t need to open it up to know what was inside.
Her designs.
Things she wanted.
Ideas for her own home.
Her someday home.
“I thought we could hire someone,” Marcus said from behind her as she reached for the binder, “to bring your vision to life without actually taking time away from what you’re doing now. If you like that idea, of course. Otherwise, we could work on the new house in our time when we’re able. Everything is up to us, you know?”
Cella understood, then.
She really got it.
The tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye didn’t last long before she had wiped it away with a quick sniffle as the only proof that it had existed in the first place.
“How long have you been looking at this house?”
“The realtor sent me information about the Quebec estate a couple of weeks ago, but I mean, I’ve been looking for something for us for—”
“Before the pregnancy?”
“Oh, yeah. Easily. I knew where we were going, Cella. I knew what I wanted. You. It was just a one-step-at-a-time kind of thing. Then, the pregnancy happened. We had to change some plans around. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Right.
Because he took it all on himself.
He expected nothing from her.
Nothing but love.
“And hey, if this isn’t the kind of place you’re interested in,” he said, coming to stand at her back where he could reach alongside to move some of the photos on the counter, “then I can send back that info to the realtor, and she’ll know to look elsewhere.”
“But I love this house,” Tiffany put in, making Cella laugh.
Even Marcus chuckled.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“I love it, yeah. But it’s not just about me—”
“Except it should also be about you, Marcus. Not everything is all about me, either.”
“It is in my world, babe.”
The two of them stared at one another, unmoving.
He quietly added, “And if you said yes to this one, I was told any changes and designs would be done before the babies arrived. They’ll come home to—”
“A home,” she whispered. “Their home.”
“Yeah.”
His hands found the tiny swell of her midsection again. Everything was right.
“Is that another yes, then?” Marcus asked.
At this point, she wasn’t sure there was another answer she could give. He seemed to take great pride in making sure the only thing she could say was ...
“That’s a yes.”
42.
Marcus
MARCUS hadn’t expected the Quebec estate to be an almost immediate yes for Cella. He figured she would probably want to see the place first, maybe do a tour of the mansion and surrounding property as well as the guest house. Especially when his plan was to turn the place into both their home and her company’s office.
He had been warned how particular Cella could be when it came to searching for a place to call their own. Apparently it took her first husband nearly two years of looking before he found the house she wanted to settle into. The Rochester house she bought after his death had been more a necessity than something she truly wanted which was why she didn’t waffle long when it came to buying that property.
Nonetheless, Marcus expected some pushback.
Anything.
She surprised him by jumping into the Quebec estate wholeheartedly. At first, he worried that she was going to regret the choice to buy the property later. Maybe after the chaotic period of their life slowed back to a normal pace; when they weren’t constantly running for appointments relating to the pregnancy, counting down the days to a wedding, and now working on getting a massive mansion move-in ready by the time their twins were born.
It concerned him.
That was all.
Marcus quickly realized how silly his worries were when six weeks after they finalized the purchase of the estate, and he was able to watch Cella walk through the halls of what would become their home. It was like she knew every step; each one was comforting and familiar. She already had a vision and a plan forming for what she wanted, and the picture she painted took hold in his mind the more she described it.
He didn’t need her to say it.
Even he could feel it.
The place was perfect.
Everything they wanted.
All they needed.
Seventeen bedrooms. Ten bathrooms. There was more than enough space to add in the theater room he wanted. The indoor pool that had been integrated into the finished basement that also connected to the guest house through an underground hallway was great, too. Set deep in the middle of a ten-acre private, forested property that they planned to fence and gate in, the estate couldn’t have been more perfect.
Really.
They had left Tiffany with his parents while they made the trip to the estate only because it was late, they already had a long drive the next day back to New York, and Cella wanted her to get as much rest as she could. More rest was basically the same thing Marcus wanted for Cella, but he figured it was better to let her just do what she wanted. Especially when she wasn’t complaining about being tired despite spending the last two hours going room to room within the mansion.
“And?” came the familiar voice in Marcus’s ear.
Smiling, he replied to his father on the call, “She is ... in love.”
Gian’s dark laughter matched his own. “I figured she would adore it. The place felt very ... you and her if you know what I mean.”
“Really? I thought maybe once she saw it—I don’t know, maybe she would find things that were a problem. Instead, she’s just ... over the moon.”
To say the least.
“Even the pickiest women will have moments where perfect things are placed in their hands, and the only thing they can do is say thank you,” his father returned. “Congratulations, Marcus, you managed to do that for her with the estate. Your mother is dying to go have a look, by the way. Drop off a set of keys, would you? I’m sure we can afford a weekend trip to Quebec soon for her to check it out.”
Marcus nodded though his father couldn’t see it. “Sure, will do.”
“Tiff is great, by the way. Already sleeping.”
“Speaking of sleeping.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s late. And a four-hour drive back. It’ll be almost two in the morning by the time we get there. There’s still furniture in some of the rooms, and I’m sure the blankets in the back of the car will do us fine for the night. We’ll get up early and start the drive back. Probably get there around breakfast or shortly after.”
“First night in your new home?”