Part of me feels like I should be more concerned by this. After all, I put everything into my ambitions, and I was willing to give them up. That’s an incredibly scary thought.
The only thing that makes it better is that Lyle would never, ever ask me to give up my ambitions for him. I glance at him and the tightness in my chest eases. None of that will ever matter, because Lyle is the kind of guy that will make sure that I never have to give up anything that I want.
“What do you say we get out of here?” Lyle asks, glancing at me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m a little sick of this place.”
Yes, definitely. I stand and smile as he holds out his hand. I lace my fingers in his. It feels like forever since we got to be together without worrying about anything else.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask.
Lyle clears his throat.
“I think you’re overdue for a tour of my home,” he says.
I stare at him. Lyle’s home. It’s the one place that I haven’t been yet. When
I was mad at him, part of me was certain that he was avoiding taking me to his place so I wouldn’t get suspicious about who he actually was. Maybe that was true, but now his place stands as a symbol for the last obstacle to our relationship. Being invited to his home means that, finally, we’re being completely open with each other. Everything is on the table. His life, the baby, my father… We’ve worked our way through it all and reached this point.
It’s amazing.
“Yeah,” I say. I can feel a smile spreading over my face. “That sounds really, really good.”
He squeezes me hand and smiles at me. I feel warm and happy. Somehow, things have turned out exactly as Lyle had said they would.
Lyle’s home is a mansion.
I stare at the gates as the car passes through them, and I’m certain that both Lyle and the driver ( a driver!) are laughing at me. But I can’t bring myself to care as we drive through the sweeping grounds.
I knew, logically, that Lyle was rich. His company is a billion-dollar business that is incredibly popular and powerful. On top of that, I knew the late Thompsons were billionaires and that they had left their fortune to their only son.
But seeing this huge mansion in front of me, set on huge, well-kept grounds, really brought it home for me. I’m well-off because of my father’s business and my own work, but Lyle is rich.
“You grew up here?” I ask, awed.
“Yeah,” Lyle says. He’s smiling fondly at the place. “I inherited it when my parents passed away, along with the business. Some days I think about selling it; it’s too big for just me. But there are too many memories here that I can’t let go of yet.”
I look the mansion over. It’s definitely two stories, and I can’t imagine living alone in that massive place. On top of that, the cleaning alone must be hell.
“I pay cleaners,” Lyle says, amused, when I voice this.
“Of course you do, rich kid,” I snort.
But I smile, taking the sting out of my words. If I’d cared at all how rich Lyle was, I would have thought about this a long time ago. But I really don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, Lyle’s wealth is his business, and I’m more than content to continue working my way toward my own goals.
When the car pulls to a stop, the driver jumps out to open the door for me. I slip out of the sleek car and thank the driver, who nods in return.
“Does he just wait for you to call and tell him you need to go somewhere?” I ask, amazed, as the car drives away.
“Not quite,” Lyle laughs. “He has my schedule, and he does other jobs in between. If I call him and he’s busy, then I’ll either drive myself or get a taxi.”
Stepping into the mansion is like entering an entirely new world. Crystal pieces glitter on the shelves, there are professional paintings on the wall in gold frames (I’m too overwhelmed to ask if the frames are made out of real gold), and the large photograph of Lyle’s parents shows that Jessica is wearing a necklace made of large diamonds.
“Woah,” I breathe. “This place is amazing.”
“A little, I guess,” Lyle says, looking around. “Sometimes it feels like I live in a museum.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, coffee? Or do you want a tour?”
A tour would be wonderful. But that can wait until a little later. I’ve waited for some time, now, to get Lyle on his own. I step toward him and wind my arms around his neck, sliding in close to his body.
“A tour sounds great,” I say. I press a kiss to his jaw. “Why don’t we start with the bedroom?”