“Look at this TV,” Dylan says, and I turn to look. I love how the kitchen opens to the dining room, and right after that is the living room. The TV hangs above the fireplace. Two massive beige couches are on either side with a square wooden table in the middle with more flowers on it. The fluffy throw pillows on the couches make you just want to curl up into a ball and take a nap. “Wow, look at this,” Dylan says, running to the window.
“Don’t touch anything,” I say, and he stops in his tracks.
“What?” Justin says from beside me.
“I don’t want him to get his fingerprints on the windows,” I say. I don’t want him to touch anything in this house with the fear he might get it dirty, and I can pretty much bet with everything I have, which isn’t much, that I can’t afford to replace anything.
“You can touch whatever you want,” he tells Dylan. “Let’s go see outside.”
He walks past me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the door. We walk out on the terrace that wraps all the way around. “You can see so many boats,” Dylan says, going to the railing and pointing. “Can we eat outside?”
“Sure. It’s a little hot, but if it’s okay with your mom, I’m good,” Justin says, and I look at him and I shrug, not sure what the good answer is. Even his outdoor furniture looks like it’s from a magazine.
“Can we see the rest of the house?” Dylan asks, and Justin smiles at him.
“You are going to flip out,” he tells Dylan and walks back into the apartment. “I’ll show you my room first,” he says. I follow him out of the room and toward the door, but he walks straight to the end of the hall and opens his door. “This is my bedroom,” he says, walking into the room. He flips a switch that I think is for the lights, but the curtains slowly open, and the far wall is also a wall of windows. I try to look at the view, but instead, I look at the unmade bed. The huge king-size bed is in the middle of the room with a wooden wall behind the beige and brown headboard. The side tables look like they are floating on both sides of the bed with lights hanging over them.
“Wow, your bed is huge. Who do you share your bed with?” Dylan asks, and I close my eyes.
“Just me,” he says softly, and Dylan looks at him. I want to say so much, but I don’t. “Now, let’s go check out the best room in the house.”
Dylan follows him out of the room with me right behind as he walks toward the other end of the apartment. “This is a spare bedroom,” Justin says and opens the door to show me a king-size bed with a light gray headboard. Two light gray chairs and a round table are arranged at the side of the room with a long mirror dresser against the wall.
“This is a girl’s room,” Dylan says with disdain, and then Justin nods his head.
“It’s where my mom and sisters stay when they visit,” he says. “Now come and see the man room,” he says, and Dylan’s eyes light up.
We walk down a long hallway, and the walls are lined full of pictures. There are pictures of Justin on the ice celebrating and then another of him with what looks like his whole family around the Stanley Cup. Three huge sweaty guys in jerseys with Matthew standing in the back wearing a suit with a huge smile on his face. Then a couple of a huge family in front of a Christmas tree. One when he got drafted, and he looks like a little boy. “This is the man’s room,” he says. Opening the door, he turns on the light, and Dylan gasps.
The whole back wall is a television. A white chest sits under it with all the game consoles you can think of. Three bean bags are on the floor in front of it but then behind the bean bags is the most massive U-shaped couch I have ever seen in my life. With over twenty throw cushions, I was wrong before. This is where you want to sit and take a nap. “Does this TV play movies?” Dylan asks, and Justin nods. “I want to do movie night in here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Justin says, and I’m at a loss for words.
“What do you want to watch?” Justin asks Dylan.
“I don’t know,” Dylan says, and Justin hands him the remote.
“Here, find something while your mom and I go talk about dinner,” he says, and Dylan grabs the remote and goes to sit on one of the bean bags.
“Don’t touch anything,” I whisper, and he ignores me while he watches the huge television. I follow Justin out to the family room.
“It’s time to have a talk,” he says. Looking at me, he takes his baseball hat off and tosses it onto the big wooden table. “Are you going to sit?” he asks, and I just shake my head. Right before he starts to talk, the doorbell rings.
Chapter Twenty-One
Justin
She stands in the middle of the room not moving. Ever since we walked into the room, she hasn’t touched anything, and when Dylan was going to touch the window, I thought she was going to throw up. I toss my hat on the middle of the table, hoping for her to see I don’t care about all this stuff.
“Don’t move,” I say to her when the doorbell rings.
“I’m not going to move,” she mumbles under her breath. I go to the door and open it to find Raul, one of the security guys.
“Hey,” he says, handing me a brown box. “This just came for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, closing the door and walking back into the living room. So help me God, I don’t even think she was breathing while I was gone. Putting the box on the island, I walk over to her and grab her hand, bringing her to the couch with me.
I sit down, and she lightly sits down next to me, her ass almost off the edge of the couch. “You know I live here, right?”
“I know,” she says, looking down at her fingers and then up again. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is. Except I make a mess, too, and the cleaning lady comes in and makes it clean,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “You have to also know that my nieces and nephews sometime come and visit.” She just looks at me. “They are kids, and they touch things. Sometimes, more than once, they have broken little knickknacks here and there.” I take a deep breath. “I also didn’t care as long as they weren’t hurt. I live here, but it’s not a museum. I don’t want you to walk on eggshells when you’re here.” I smile at her. “Hopefully, you’ll want to be here a lot.”
“It’s just that …” she starts, and I hold up my hand.
“They’re just things,” I say. “Things that are pretty but can be replaced. But you here, sitting on that couch eating chips …” I smile, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I would buy ten couches just to see that.”
“Is the food almost done?” Dylan asks, coming into the room. “I’m starving.”
I laugh when Caroline smiles. “Take off your shoes, curl up on the couch, and turn on the TV.” I kiss her lips. “I’m going to cook.”
“I want to help you,” she says to me. “We can do it together.”
“That sounds even better than just me cooking,” I say, taking her hand in mine and going to the kitchen.
Dylan climbs on a stool. “Is this a present?” he asks, picking it up and shaking the box.