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He’s lost to contemplative silence for a few moments before he says, “Money doesn’t make the man. Besides, one can’t be held responsible for being born into wealth.”
“One can’t,” I agree solemnly before cracking a grin.
The atmosphere lightens.
It’s as we reach the parking area that I suddenly wish I hadn’t brought my own car. Oliver seems to catch onto that stray thought. Out of the blue, he suggests, “How wo
uld you feel about coffee?”
“Right now?” I ask, surprised. “It’s nearing eight.”
He moves his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I still have work left to do. Some dessert and coffee would be appreciated. We could go to a café, if you’re so inclined.”
I suddenly see past the obvious offer.
We could go to a café.
Or…
We could go to one of our residences.
He’s left the choice up to me. I swallow, meeting his steady gaze.
I don’t recognize my own voice as I suggest, “How about I make you a cup?”
The flare of heat in his eyes makes my knees turn weak.
* * *
As I let Oliver into the penthouse, I spot the stiffness in his shoulders, which evaporates after a few minutes.
When I found out he was planning to sell this place and I offered myself as a potential buyer, I don’t think he expected me to make changes. Although expensive, I’ve accumulated enough savings to buy this place.
“What do you think?” I ask as he studies the lack of ornaments. I had packed them away, replacing them with simpler, more colorful items.
“It feels like you,” he finally responds after studying the living area. He glances over. “I didn’t know you were in a hurry to make so many alterations.”
I shrug. “The paperwork did go through, and you said I could purchase the entire place, including the furnishings. And since you keep sending me home on time—” I aim a glare his way. “I had too much time on my hands.”
His hands tucked in his pocket, Oliver strolls into the dining area, which has been stripped bare of all his personal decorations.
“I didn’t want them,” I say softly. “And I had a feeling you wouldn’t, either.”
He doesn’t turn to face me. “Where are they?”
“In a storage unit I own. I know you told me to do whatever I want with them, but they’re going to stay there if you ever decide to change your mind.”
He leans over to glance at a large tapestry, which I’ve yet to put up. “I won’t.” Then he looks at me. “Do you need any help with this?”
It’s a struggle, but with the help of a chair for me to stand on, we manage to hang up the tapestry, which reveals an image of aquatic life with a beautiful mermaid peeking from behind a rock. The colors are loud and vibrant, demanding attention, and I can tell Oliver admires it.
“Where did you get this?”
“Hanna’s roommate. She makes them by hand.”
“It’s stunning.”
“What other changes did you make?” Oliver asks. He looks relaxed now, almost comfortable.
