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But he was super sexy, so it was fine.
“The real estate agent called,” he said. “There’s a new property outside the city.”
“Where?”
“Casole d’Elsa.”
“That’s a beautiful area. Just a bit of a drive from the city. What do you think about living that far away?”
He gave a shrug, sitting in his black jeans and t-shirt. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
He gave a slight smile. “You’re the one in charge as far as I’m concerned.”
“But you must have an opinion. I want to take your preferences into account.”
He looked out over the balcony, the Duomo in the distance. “I don’t know shit about kids, so I’ll have to defer to your expertise as to what’s best for our family. Living in Florence may be ideal when they’re older and can walk to school, but perhaps the countryside is best for when they’re infants. We can always change our minds later. I’m keeping this place, so it’ll always be here when we need it.”
I studied the side of his face as I replayed his words in my mind. “They?”
He turned to look at me. “I assumed you’d want more than one.”
It was a beautiful villa with olive trees planted around the property. Two stories and expansive, it was far too big for two people. It had a pool, a large lawn, a view of the valley to the west. A long winding path led to the top of the hill where the beautiful home sat, the pathways lined with stone, the walls a Tuscan beige.
It was beautiful.
With my hand on my bump, I walked through the chef’s kitchen, the large sitting room, the six bedrooms and eight baths, the outdoor terrace perfect for entertaining under the summer sky.
Bartholomew trailed behind, taking his own path through the home, examining the technical aspects of the house, like the water heater, the furnace, the fireplaces, all the boring stuff that men cared about.
“What do you think?” He joined me in the courtyard, finally wearing something other than black. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans, and the color brought out the richness in his eyes.
“Uh, it’s gorgeous. That’s what I think.”
“You want it, then?”
“I don’t know…”
“Your hesitation? It seems like everything is up-to-date. It’s turnkey.”
“Um, how about the price?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “What about it?”
“It’s a lot.”
“Is it?”
“Are you being serious?”
“I’m always serious, sweetheart. I’ll tell the real estate agent to submit our offer.”
“Whoa, hold on.” I grabbed his wrist before he walked away. “It’s your money. I want to make sure this is something you want—”
“Ourmoney.”
“Bartholomew, I’m not your wife—”
