“Oh shit,” I add. “She wants me to come visit it now.” I glance back up, hesitating for half a second. “Do you mind coming with me before I drop you off? It’s kind of time-sensitive.”
Some cryptic emotion passes across Huxley’s face, but he quickly erases it and smiles. It’s one of his genuine smiles. The one that makes his green eyes sparkle and shows off his dimple.
His effortless charm has me feeling like I’m slipping under his spell just by staring at him.
I can’t imagine the effect he’d have on me if he actuallytried.
“I don’t mind.” He claps his hands once while he stands up as if geared up to go.
“Great!” I grin and close my laptop. “Then we should leave right now.”
The potential condois a twenty-minute drive from the Remington in one of those skyrises lining the Marsford Bay boardwalk. I considered buying a house instead of another luxury condo, but even though I’m twenty-nine and justboughta theatre, something about owning a house felt too permanent. Too grown-up.
I settled for a penthouse with amazing amenities instead.
It took driving all the way here and meeting with Dusia, my real estate agent, to realize that maybe bringing Huxley along was a mistake.
This is acouple’sactivity.
Dusia certainly thought so.
Huxley turned bright red at the assumption, and I would have laughed at his spluttering reaction if I wasn’t so busy trying to hide my own flaming cheeks.
But Dusia is a professional and navigated through the blunder with charismatic ease. She jumped right into the showing and slowly led us through the penthouse, pointing out feature after feature.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Dusia says with an assured smile.
Dressed head to toe in Prada, she’s the picture of class with her minimal makeup and straight black hair tucked behind her ears.
“Look around. Take all the time you need.” She points to the door while clutching her phone. “I have a few calls to make, so I’ll be right outside when you’re ready.”
I nod and thank her, waiting for her to step out before looking over to Huxley, standing near the kitchen island. I watch him idly drag a finger over the countertop, his gaze upward as he looks around the spacious living area.
It’s late afternoon, but the sun is already setting, the rays glowing orange against his face, the shadows slowly extending over the hardwood floor.
I have an inexplicable urge to capture this moment.
Without much thought, I pull out my phone and take a few pictures of Huxley in the afternoon light.
“Did you just take my picture?”
I take another while he’s looking straight at me just for kicks.
“Maybe.” I pocket my phone. “So? What do you think?”
He appears to be considering what to say.
“I can’t imagine being this rich,” he finally mutters, his gaze back on the professionally staged decor.
A strange guilt flutters across my conscience, and I suddenly feel gauche to be flaunting my generationalwealth to Huxley like this. Then again, I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for a reality I was simply born into.
Not wanting to dwell on the feeling, I let out a small puff as I strut closer to him.
“Not the question, do youlikeit? Could you imagine yourself living here?” Realizing I misspoke, I stumble to fix it. “I mean me —meliving here.”
Huxley watches me with what Ithinkis curiosity. His expression has softened since Dusia stepped out, and I’ve never wanted to know what another person was thinking more than I do now.
Huxley is a mystery. Especially right now, while he’s studying me with an intense gaze. My heartbeat quickens under his attention. Finally breaking eye contact, he heads toward the large sectional facing the living room windows.
