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Luca shakes his head and smiles at me. “This is absolutely incredible, Abby.”
The warmth of pride fills my chest as he looks around at the open, two-story building, the ceiling beams wrapped with reclaimed wood. Big ceiling fans shaped like vintage windmills all spin in time.
“Welcome to Cypress Lane, I’m—oh God! Hi. It’s you.” A nervous-looking employee gives me a giant grin, her cheeks reddening. “Hi. Sorry. I’m Maya.”
“Hi Maya, I’m Abby. And this is Luca.”
Maya pumps both our hands enthusiastically.
“I assume you don’t need me to show you anything?” she says, furrowing her brow. “But if you do, I totally can. I just finished training two weeks ago and I know the store top to bottom.”
“What’s your favorite piece?” I ask her. It’s my standard question to new employees to see if they actually like the products they’re selling.
“Oooh.” Maya’s eyes widen. “The Monroe bedroom collection. It’s such a perfect combination of modern and retro. Classic lines and well-built pieces that will stand the test of time.”
“Good.” I smile to let her know she passed the test.
“Can I get you guys some coffee or champagne while you’re browsing?”
“Champagne?” Luca arches his brows and winks at me. “Fancy.”
“I’ll take some coffee, thanks,” I say.
“I’m good,” Luca replies.
Maya leaves to get my drink and I lean in to Luca and softly say, “I mostly just want to make sure they’re serving good coffee.”
“I figured.” He kisses the top of my head. “You just had coffee at the café we went to.”
We’ve been busy today—walking around my neighborhood, getting butter brickle ice cream at a little place I love and shopping at a couple small boutiques. This is our final stop for the day.
I sit down on a gray leather sofa and Luca sits down on a patterned armchair across from me.
“What made you pick the name Cypress Lane?” he asks.
“It’s the name of the street I grew up on.”
“Nice. Did your parents like that?”
“I lost my mom when I was fifteen and my dad when I was twenty-one.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Thanks. It’s been a long time. I know they would have both loved to see Cypress Lane, though. My dad used to build furniture. He had a workshop behind our house.”
“They’d be really proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
Maya brings me the coffee and I take a sip. It’s hot, fresh and just the right strength. I nod my approval.
“You want to give me a grand tour?” Luca asks me.
I wave a hand. “It’s all furniture. You don’t have to look at everything.”
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “It’s your furniture, though. Maybe I want to look at it.”
“Do you, though?”
“I do need a new couch for my office. Help me pick one out and then we can catch an Uber back to your place and eat.”
“Deal.” I stand up. How much space do you have in your office?”
“Plenty for a regular shaped couch. I can’t have a big sectional in there or anything.”
“Hmm…” I look around the showroom. “Colors in the office?”
“Cherry wood floors and light gray walls.”
I wind my way through the showroom, pointing out a few couches I would recommend.
“This is a newer one. I have this one in my office and I love it.” I lead him to a navy leather sofa and gesture toward it. “Simple lines and very comfortable.”
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” He grins at me. “Sold.”
I smile back. “Just give your address to Maya before we leave and I’ll have one delivered to you.”
“I’m gonna pay for it.”
I shake my head adamantly. “It’s a gift.”
“No, I wanted you to help me find a couch to buy, babe. Not just give one to me.”
“Don’t be so stubborn. I’m sending you a couch.”
“Abby—”
A guy next to Luca gives him a puzzled look. “Yo, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
“He wants it,” I say, waving Maya over.
When Maya reaches us, I ask her to take down Luca’s address and arrange for the delivery. I love knowing he’ll have a Cypress Lane piece in his home.
“Do you need anything else?” I ask Luca.
He gives me a wry smile. “No.”
He gives Maya his address and we leave the store.
“Uber or walk?” I ask, looking up at him as I link my arm through his.
“I say Uber. I’m too hungry to wait.”
He orders a ride with his phone and we chat with the driver on our way back to my place. Once we get there, Luca follows me into the kitchen. I see him taking in the white cabinets, marble counters and warm wood floors.
“I hope you like beef stew,” I say. “It’s kind of a cross between pot roast and stew.”
“I love it.”
He approaches me from behind as I take the lid off the slow cooker to check on the food. When he puts his arms around me, I jump a little but then settle back against him.
