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“Swiss had been looking to buy a house. For the two of you. But he’s really fucking picky, and I kept trying to tell him he couldn’t intimidate people into selling their home. Obviously, he disagreed,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a thing.”
My heartbeat was so loud, I wondered if I’d heard her correctly. “He was buying us a house?”
Macy nodded slowly. “If we want to get technical, he was trying to coerce a really nice couple into selling their home, but same difference.”
I opened my mouth then quickly shut it again.
There was nothing to say to such a thing.
Swiss was planning on buying us a house.
“Should I open this?” Freya raised the bottle of champagne in the air.
“Yes,” Macy and Caroline said at the same time.
I had not regained the ability to speak.
That was when the rumble of motorcycles drowned out even the rapid beating of my heart.
All four of us looked in the direction of the highway, which was taken up by a… gaggle? Of Harley’s.
My stomach swirled, looking for a familiar figure and a familiar bike. When they got closer, it became clear that Swiss was not with them.
I tried to hide my disappointment, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. I didn’t do well at that if Caroline reaching for my hand was anything to go by.
She held it until the men parked and dismounted their bikes.
Hansen had coffee and croissants. I had no idea how they traveled on the bike. But they did.
Hades and Jagger were with him, obviously knowing their women were there because these men had some kind of badass, alpha male, sixth sense. Or they tracked their wives phones, which considering everything they’d been through, made sense.
I silently urged myself to ignore the disappointment and sadness I felt at Swiss’s absence.
This moment felt pivotal, big, important. And he surely knew about it because Swiss made it his business to know everything about me.
Yet he still wasn’t here.
“What do you think?” Hansen nodded to the house while handing me a coffee.
“I don’t know what to say,” I replied honestly.
“Well, we need to show her the inside,” Hansen said to Macy.
“I’m aware, honey,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “I was waiting for caffeine.”
On wooden legs, I followed our little group into the small but adorable house.
The pathway to the house was bordered by lavender that brushed the natural stones we were walking on. Two rockers sat on the porch with hanging baskets of flowers along the overhang. The garden sprawled to the left of the house with greenery, large trees and a porch swing nestled underneath them.
We walked right into an open and airy living room. The floor was gleaming wood and mismatched rugs covered it. There were windows all along the house, natural light streaming in. A deep amethyst sofa was a bright jewel of color amongst the whites and earth tones. Candles were arranged on the vintage wood coffee table, and a TV was along the wall on an entertainment unit that had cluttered bookshelves on either side.
To the right was a compact but lovely kitchen. Two wicker barstools sat in front of a breakfast bar. Succulents were littered across the windowsill above the sink.
A circular dining table sat in front of more windows and double doors that led out to another sprawling garden. This one with a stone patio and wicker furniture, a hammock strung between two trees.
At the back of the house was the bedroom. A white, wrought iron bed faced double doors that boasted a breathtaking view of the desert, somehow perfectly placed to avoid the surrounding houses, making it seem like we were in the middle of nowhere.
There were two worn, comfortable armchairs at the end of the bed, pointing toward the doors. I imagined myself sitting there with my morning coffee or evening wine.
