“No, I’m calling you perfect.”
He parks on the side of the street and leads me through a tall iron gate to the back of a tall brick building. The garden is like an enchanted realm with cobblestone paths, a rose trellis, and sunflowers as tall as me. Gas lamps are hanging on posts every few feet, and I imagine how beautiful it must be at night when they illuminate.
We walk to a circular patio decorated with a small iron café table and chairs. Vines of ripening tomatoes flank the patio on both sides. Anthony puts his key in the lock on the French doors and invites me inside his home. If it’s anything like the outside, I may not want to leave.
“Do you share that courtyard with the other tenants?” I ask.
“No, it’s all mine,” he shocks me with his reply.
“Did you plant everything out there?” I ask.
“No, actually. It was my mother’s garden originally. I’ve added a few things over the years. Of course, the vegetables are mine.”
“So, your mother lived here?”
“Yes, Aria. I grew up here. This is my building. I own it.”
“Wow, how many tenants do you have?” I ask, surprised by this new information.
“Six,” he answers while setting up a pot of coffee.
“So, you’re like a landlord? Isn’t that like having two jobs?”
“No. I don’t manage the building. I own it and I live here, but I have a property manager who handles the leasing and the maintenance. I don’t do any of that.”
His flat is larger than I would have expected from the outside, with beamed ceilings and thick wood molding. It’s an open concept with kitchen, living, and dining rooms all in view. His wood floors are covered with woven rugs and the whole place has a sort of cottage feel.
“Take a seat, Princess,” he says as he sets two cups of coffee on the table.
“Okay, your place is really nice. I thought maybe you’d give me a tour.”
“Maybe. Let’s talk first, okay?”
“Fine, tell me whatever terrible thing you have to tell me.”
“Why do you think it’s a terrible thing?”
“Because of the way you’re acting. If it was something good, you would have just blurted it out.”
“It’s not good or bad, Aria. It’s just a conversation about how we’re going to proceed.”
“Proceed?”
“Yes. Now that Lanz is fairly certain that you and I are together, we need to tell your mother.”
“What? Why? Do you think Lanz is gonna tell her? He doesn’t even know her.”
“No, but he might tell other people and that might cause an investigation or worse, a scandal. The right thing to do—the adult thing to do—is to let her know about us so she doesn’t feel lied to or betrayed if that happens. We need her on our side.”
“You’ve never met my mother. I don’t think she’s going to side with us.”
“Then, at least, she’ll be prepared if something happens instead of finding out about us from a tabloid or a reporter. She’s a public figure. Something like this could affect her from a PR perspective.”
“So, what? You’re worried about my mother?”
“No, I’m worried about you. It may be hard for you to understand now, but she needs to know who I am and what my intentions are. It’s the right thing to do for us and for your relationship with her.”
“I still don’t agree…but if you think it’s best, tell me how we do this.”
