Page 95 of Bound To Be Mine

“Oh wow,” I said.

Floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, offering views of the city that literally took my breath away. The space was modern and minimalist. It looked very expensive. But it was also empty. That was the word that came to mind. It looked like a showroom. Like no one actually lived here.

“What do you think?” he asked, setting our bags down.

“It’s beautiful,” I said honestly. “But it doesn’t look like you.”

He paused, turning to look at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—where’s your stuff? Your personality? This could be anyone’s apartment.”

He looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “I guess I never thought about it. I’m not here much. It’s just a place to sleep.”

That made me sad. My house was cluttered with evidence of my life—photos, books, random things I’d collected over the years. This place looked like he’d moved in yesterday and planned to leave tomorrow.

“Come on,” he said, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Let me show you around.”

The tour didn’t take long. Master bedroom with an en-suite bathroom that was huge. Guest bedroom that looked like it had never been used. An office that was the only room that showed any sign of actual life, with papers on the desk, books on the shelves, and a few pictures of his family.

The kitchen was all dark cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. I couldn’t get over the view that was visible from the kitchen, dining, and living room with the open-concept floorplan.

There was a buzzing noise. I looked around.

“That’s the door,” Briggs said. “Sebastian and Bernadette, I assume.”

I hugged Sebastian and Bernadette when they arrived, feeling more relaxed around them now than I had at our first meeting.

“Ready to look at our venue?” Bernadette asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Absolutely. Let me just grab my bag.”

I kissed Briggs goodbye, trying not to think about how domestic that felt. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Take your time.” He squeezed my hand. “Have fun.”

Sebastian’s driver took us through Manhattan. New York was so different from LA. Everything felt taller, faster, more compressed. I could see why Briggs loved it here.

After spending two hours at the venue, I was dropped off at the building to get ready for dinner.

“Are you going to tell me what the dress code is for this special dinner?” I asked Briggs.

He was still working in his office. He smiled. “Casual.”

“Will you please tell me where you’re taking me?”

“Home.” He grinned.

“You’re making dinner?”

“No. My childhood home. My mom’s house. It’s Sunday. Family dinner.”

I stared at him. I shouldn’t be nervous. I had met his entire family—except his mother. She was going to have an opinion. I married her son in a drunken Vegas wedding. She was definitely going to have things to say.

29

BRIGGS

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the townhome I grew up in. I climbed out of the back and reached in to help Mandy out. She was holding the bottle of wine she insisted we bring to dinner. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but there was no way she was meeting my mother without something in hand.