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“Lorenzo, this house is perfect as it is. I can feel more love in this house than there has ever been in any of our houses,” I tell him, meaning it. My house doesn’t feel like a home; it’s cold and feels like a display home, but you can feel all the love that surrounds us here. On the kitchen frame are markings showing how much Lorenzo had grown through the years. The photos are filled with happy memories. My parents' house doesn’t have photos hanging up. It is decorated with art more than memories of our family.
“I know it’s not much. The kitchen table is tiny.”
“Hey, do you know how many times I’ve sat at that horrible thing my parents call a table and wished for something cozy like this?” I tell him, gesturing to the adorable table.
“Really?”
“Really. That monstrosity my parents want to eat at is horrible. You saw it. You practically have to yell to uphold a conversation.” I laugh at the thought of the many dinners I’ve endured at that table over the years.
“Well, it was quite obscene,” he says, his dimple appearing.
“That’s putting it nicely.” We glance at each other before both laughing.
He heads back down the hall picking up my bag he’d dropped in the hallway. He carries it back to where the doors of the rooms are and stands there. “So, I know we are gonna get married but I meant it when I said I wanna capture your heart first, so if you feel more comfortable in the spare room for now, I’m more than happy for you to do that. I want you comfortable,” he says, handing me my bag, letting me make the choice.
“Thanks Lorenzo. I might take the spare room for now if that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” he tells me, pushing the door to the spare room open fully for me to enter. A perfectly made double bed lies in the centre of the room with a dresser off to the side of it. There’s a small window that looks to the neighbour’s property, the sun shining through it.
“This used to be my room growing up,” he tells me, as he leans against the door frame, arms crossed.
“Really?” I ask, looking around the space, trying to picture Lorenzo from my past being in this space.
“Yeah. I spent a lot of nights dreaming about a certain red head back in the day,” he admits, causing me to whip around, myskin heating. He winks again before standing up straight. “Settle in. I’ll call Niko and be back,” he says, turning and heading out the door.
I drop to the bed, taking a deep breath. This is really happening. I’m going to marry Lorenzo. I haven’t taken a minute since his proposal to think it all through. I know it’s crazy. It's like I’m headed straight into oncoming traffic, but my feet won’t stop, propelling me forward. My brain is screaming out to take a minute, but my feet are walking me straight into the chaos.
When I think about it, I do want to marry him and get away from my parents. I’m not dumb either. My dad had other suitors trying to find me and propose last night. The phantom of the opera masked guy and his friend made it clear what their intentions were when their whispered conversation was overheard so I managed to steer clear of him for the whole night. He looked to be in his early twenties so my dad mustn’t have cared that we’d have such a large age gap. At least marrying Lorenzo would be on my terms. He makes me feel seen and listened to and with that hope, I’m sure we can learn to love each other.
Standing back up, satisfied with my decision, the zip on my bag squeals as it runs along. I sort my clothes into the dresser drawers before I take my toiletry bag and walk it down to the bathroom. With a pop, the small mirror above the sink releases, showing the cabinet behind it. Ally always tells me how she checks out guys' medicine cabinets and that you can find out a lot about them from what they have in there. All I see is some shaving foam, a couple razors, some band aids, extra toothpaste, a bottle of Advil and a box of unopened condoms. My lips twist to the side before my nosey fingers reach up, grabbing the unopened box and turning it over to check out the box. Magnum size. A gulp travels down my throat, as my face burns with heat. Nervous energy has my fingers juggling the box, nearly droppingit in my haste to put it back exactly as it was. My hand wraps around the Advil bottle, closes the cabinet then I step back into the kitchen. I open a few cabinets before I find one that holds the glasses, filling up the glass with water from the tap. I tip two pills into my hand, popping them in my mouth and washing them down with my drink. My head had begun pounding again. A combination of overthinking and my hangover.
I pull one of the pretty painted chairs out, taking a seat to wait for Lorenzo to return. His door closes a few minutes later.
“Sophia?” he calls.
“In the kitchen,” I call back, and he appears.
“Did you get unpacked?”
“Yeah, I did. I took some Advil for my hangover. Hope you don’t mind.”
“What’s mine is yours Sophia. You can take or use whatever is in this house and my apartment too,” he tells me.
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome,” he says, pulling out a seat for himself. “So, I told Niko of our grand plan and I think he spent more time laughing than listening, but he said if you rang Ally and gave her his number then he could pick her up on his way.”
“Wish me luck. I’ll ring her now.” I walk back down to the room I’m staying in and grab my phone from my bag. The dial tone sounds before she answers.
“Hey babe, how was brunch?”
“A headache. Hey, are you free?” I ask, my nose scrunches though she can’t see me.
“Yeah, just lounging around. Do you need something?”
“Are you free to come to a wedding?” I ask, my eyes now scrunching as I wait for her response.
“Wedding? Who’s getting married?”
