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A few people glance over at him with a variety of confused expressions.
“You promised it was mine.” He stomps off in the opposite direction, only to pause midstride. “Ten million dollars?”
Dahlia gasps. “Tell me you didn’t.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Out of curiosity, how do you feel about homes architecturally influenced by the Italian Renaissance?”
“Absolutely despise them with every fiber of my being.”
“Perfect. Me too.”
The laugh that pours out of her makes the house worth every penny.
She barely has a chance to catch her breath before she asks, “Did you really buy a random house we both hate because you’re that petty?”
“No. I bought a random house we both hate because I’m that in love.”
At Dahlia’s insistence, we drive the packed moving truck back to Lake Wisteria rather than hire a moving company for the job. She claims there are too many valuables, but I quickly catch on to her plan of wanting to extend our trip for as long as possible.
Three days later, I park the moving truck outside theMuñozes’ house with a yawn. Dahlia and I both climb out, fighting drowsiness as we walk toward the front door.
I grab her hand and pull her against my side. “You could move into my house.”
“Sorry, but my answer hasn’t changed since you last asked me an hour ago.”
“But I plan to decorate it for Christmas.”
Her brows rise. “Really?”
“Yup. I’m hosting theposadathis year, which means you’re helping.”
She laughs. “That’s fair after all you did for me during Thanksgiving.”
“Because of everything that needs to be done, it’s probably best that you stay with me.Indefinitely.”
She shakes her head.
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll respect your wish not to live together until marriage.”
“Assuming we get married to begin with.”
I tap her nose. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”
She lets out a half laugh, half scoff. “God. What will I do with you?”
“I have a few ideas.” I kiss the back of her left hand.
“Dahlia!” Rosa runs out of the house in fuzzy slippers and a head full of Velcro rollers.
“Mami.”
Rosa pulls her daughter into a quick, crushing hug beforethrowing her arms around me and squeezing all the air from my lungs.
Posada:Mexican Christmas festival to commemorate the nativity story.
Guess she forgave you for the jail cell incident.
She pulls away. “You brought our girl back home.”
