“Come on, Mama. Let’s show you your spot.” He gently guided me out of Luca’s room and across the hall.
I didn’t try to escape the gentle hold he had on me. I should’ve, but I couldn’t find the strength. Cope’s warmth was like the world’s most comfortable blanket. I wanted to pull it around my shoulders and hold it close.
Cope pushed open the door, his hand sliding to my lower back as he urged me inside. My feet felt like lead. Some part of me didn’t want to see what beauty lay beyond the threshold.
As I stepped inside, I sucked in a breath. I’d been right. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. The walls were the palest turquoise—the kind of color that made you wonder if it was there at all. But at the same time, the tone had a sense of calm washing over me.
There was a large king bed against the wall closest to the hallway, one that looked like an overstuffed cloud with its white duvet and endless array of pillows. But it was the view from the bed that had me gobsmacked.
It was the same breathtaking picture as downstairs, but because we were on the second floor, it felt as though we were hovering. Floating on a sea of water, forest, and mountains.
My eyes burned, and my nose stung. I’d never stayed in a room this nice before. No place that felt thisme.
“What do you think?” Cope asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him honestly.
“The color reminds me of your eyes. It felt like it was meant to be.”
My gaze jerked to him. “My eyes?”
“Turquoise. Like the Caribbean Sea. Could find a world of peace in those eyes.”
It wasn’t just my eyes burning now. It was everything. People had remarked on my eyes for most of my life. Roman had certainly been taken in by them. But had anyone really taken the time to see beyond the standard blue?Blue Eyes.Just thinking the nickname had pain coursing through me.
But not Cope. He saw tone and quality. And more than that, he saw feeling.
“Come on,” Cope said, that smile back on the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t seen the best part.”
He strode toward an open door I knew had to lead to a bathroom. But I wasn’t sure how much more beauty—moreseeing—I could take. Still, I followed. And when I stepped into the en suite, I couldn’t help my audible gasp.
The antique tub sat in front of another massive window, looking out on that same incredible view. You could soak in the warmth of the water and the peace of the view all at the same time. “Cope…”
“Not too shabby. There’s a shower, too.” He gestured to the large, marble-tiled space in the far corner. “Should be stocked as far as toiletries go, but let me know if you’re missing anything, and I’ll have my housekeeper grab it.”
I was still gaping at the tub, unable to get any other words out.
Cope’s hand slipped beneath my hair, kneading my neck. “Set this water as hot as it will go and have a nice long soak. I’ll bring your bags up and have dinner ready when you’re done.”
I goggled up at him. I was struggling to process so much. The fact that, for the first time in years, someone was taking care of me was at the top of that list. But I focused on a tiny detail. “You cook?”
One corner of Cope’s mouth kicked up. “I’m full of surprises, Warrior.”
15
SUTTON
My toes peekedout of the bubbles, the dusky mauve polish I’d painted on them the other day standing out against the white ceramic. I could just make out the soft strains of Luca playing a video game across the hall, but it was the kind of noise that faded into a meditative background, assuring me that my son was safe and happy.
I, on the other hand, was a prune. A happy one. I’d added hot water to the bath twice, soaking up every ounce of heat. I wasn’t sure what the bubble bath was made of since the label was in French, but it smelled heavenly.
I knew I shouldn’t get used to any of this, but that didn’t mean I would stop myself from enjoying it. I let my eyes fall closed for a moment, taking it all in. Maybe if I cemented the memory, it would be enough to sustain me when we had to leave.
After a few more moments of warmth, I forced myself to pull the plug. It would be rude to stay in the bath all night, and I could see the sun sinking lower into the horizon, painting Cope’s property in acascade of pinky reds. An artist could paint this landscape a hundred times over and still not capture it all.
Maybe Arden did, I thought as I stood from the bath and grabbed a fluffy white towel from a perfectly folded stack. I knew Arden often worked with metal as her medium, but I had to imagine the landscape inspired her regardless.
Quickly drying off, I wrapped the towel around my body and poked my head into the bedroom. The door was closed now, and my three duffel bags sat on the bench at the end of the massive bed. I pulled out a pair of sweats and a matching top covered in abstract bumblebees. I probably should’ve gone for something more appropriate—jeans and a T-shirt, maybe—but after the day’s events, I couldn’t force myself into hard pants.
