Being so close to the opulent community of Aurora Hills, the laid-back familiarity of the beach town fades into lavish high-rises and boutique shops. When I first bought the townhouse after my divorce, it felt like the perfect compromise—still within Amada Beach limits but further from the heart of the town. I just needed space after everything that happened with Stefan. Ten miles isn’t much but it was enough to avoid random visits or the expectation for me to host anything.
Even now, my mom and siblings rarely come visit because I’m always there; I always go to them. It’s the systemIset up, but over the last few months, it’s become increasingly lonely.
Nothing compares to the isolation of living in the house that Stefan and I owned together. His parents bought, renovated, and gifted us a beautiful Spanish Revival villa. At least it was before the renovations, when Martha decided to strip the house down to its bones and turn it into a contemporary monstrosity.
I’m not even a huge fan of Spanish Revival homes, at least not for myself. However, it stuck out like a sore thumb in the small, gated neighborhood. Not to mention, there arehundredsof contemporary style homes in San Diego to choose from.
I love my little house.
It’s a craftsman-style house with a slight industrial modern touch. The interior is dark and moody, with American Walnut wood and iron accents. There is plenty of natural light, including a modern window combination along the stairs. It’s too dark to get a good look at the back porch, but the sliding door leads to a wooden deck with a small seating area.
The small fenced-in grass area will be perfect for Rosie. It’s only now occurring to me how much time she probably had to spend in the apartment. Not that I care—Idon’t—but it will be a big upgrade for her.
Liam’s quiet as he puts Rosie down and stands, observing the space with more intrigue than I expected.
My décor sways toward neutrals with a few pops of red and other jewel tones mixed in. A built-in bookcase under the stairs is full of CDs and knick-knacks, not a single book in sight. The natural wood accents and variety of houseplants brings balance and life into the space.
I can thank Vivi for those. She chose some of the easiest plants to take care of, and always comes over to help me repot them in early spring.
When he turns back to me with a small smile, I ask, “Are you judging my house?”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Just admiring it, actually.”
I shrug. “I like it.”
A soft thud pulls our attention to the couch where Rosie just jumped up and now walks in circles before plopping down.
With a long, dramatic sigh, my head tips back toward Liam. It doesn’t surprise me that his dog gets up on furniture; I can only begin to imagine how spoiled she is. There are probably sweaters and specialized dog food in his bags somewhere. Plus, I know how to pick my battles, and fighting with a mutt the size of an overgrown rat is not on my list of favorable activities.
I’m reallynotexcited to have a dog here though, and I won’t let Liam forget.
“It’ll do,” he says with a boyish grin.
Rolling my eyes, I look at the single bag he brought with him. “Is that all you have? It’s a small townhouse, but I can make room for you in the closet and dresser.”
He steps forward again, wrapping a hand around my waist. “Sounds like I’m moving in.”
Before I notice what I’m doing, my arms snake around him, holding him closer. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Three weeks.”
Liam teases, “Squatter’s rights.”
Scoffing, I pinch his back lightly. He flinches, not from pain but from being ticklish. “That requires living somewhere for at least five years in the state of California.”
His other arm wraps around me, his hand sliding precariously close to the waistband of my leggings. His pinky never dips below the fabric but he toys with the idea. “Three weeks, five years. What’s the difference, really?”
Snickering, I give him an exasperated look that he sees through immediately.
“This is what I had time to take to the dry cleaner’s this morning,” he says. “I’m going to box up the rest and take it tomorrow.”
“Very smartandmuch appreciated,” I say, sincerely glad he thought about that.
He chuckles but his eyes are glued to my lips. After a few, silent seconds, I expect him to pull away but he never does.His fingers tease the waistband of my leggings again and his features soften the longer he looks down at me.
“Can I kiss you again?”
Suddenly, I’m nervous—today has been alot.
I started the day pissed off at him for presumably not stopping by Brighter Daze or texting me. The next thing I knew, I was agreeing to him temporarily moving in with me.
