He nods.
I gesture at walls and floor, really getting into it. I visualize the whole thing as I talk, the way I can see exactly how my clients are going to look after I’m done dressing and accessorizing them. “All you need is some cream, pale yellow, royal purple and dark cherry for the owner’s suite. The other rooms can get their own themes, but believe me, it’s going to look amazing after you’re done. The place has everything except some accessories and embellishment.” And it’d be a lovely home, not the museum-like, ultra-modern moneyed showcase it is right now.
Edgar rolls his weight on the balls of his feet. His eyes roam the walls and ceiling, then settle on mine. Something hot sparks in their depth. Suddenly my mouth is too dry, but I can’t look away.
“I think her idea is brilliant. I can recommend a few good designers if you’d like,” Rick says, interrupting the moment again. Either he’s oblivious to the thick, sizzling tension or he’s too eager for commission to let us get distracted.
Edgar blinks, and his face returns to its impassive state. He plucks a card from his pocket and hands it to Rick. “Call my assistant and work out the details.”
Rick takes the card like it’s a map to a pirate’s treasure. “Most certainly. I’ll get in touch with her right away.” He puts the card away and says, “I’ll give you more time to chat about possibilities. I’ll be in the foyer.”
He turns and starts walking downstairs. He undoubtedly already has the number memorized and is too eager to make the call to hang around with us now.
I shake my head. Then something suddenly pops into it. “Did he tell you how much this place is? I only remember him saying you had to buy it, but he didn’t say the asking price, did—”
“No.” Edgar places a hand at my elbow and gently leads me out of one of the guest rooms we’re in.
“Shouldn’t you ask before you buy it? What if it’s too expensive?” Luxury homes aren’t my area of expertise. I wish I had Kim’s experience. She knows so much about the billionaire lifestyle, having worked for Salazar Pryce for over five years.
Edgar shrugs. “You didn’t look too closely at the price tag on your purse, did you?”
Is he seriously equating my shopping habits to his? “It’s not a piece of real estate,” I point out, in case that critical distinction has escaped his notice. “It’s just a purse.”
“Dior.” His tone says he knows it’s no cheap purse.
“Yeah, but that’s part of my job. A business expense. You know, because I have to look good.”
“It’s part of my job to provide for you and the baby. And you seem to like this place. So that’s enough for me.”
I stare at him, unable to compute what’s happening. This place has to be worth millions, maybe tens of millions, and he doesn’t care about the price because it’s his job to provide for me and the baby?
He also said you liking it was enough for him.
Yeah, but let’s not dwell on that too much. It’s making me slightly breathless, and I don’t want to hyperventilate. I refuse to believe I’m reacting this way due to surging emotions, a sense of being cared for. He couldn’t have been clearer about zero love for me last n
ight.
Rick takes us back to my apartment complex, fighting to hide a wide grin the whole way. Clearly, the place is filthy expensive.
By the time we reach my place, it’s six. I realize my fridge is empty, and I haven’t bought anything for dinner.
“Thank you for coming along,” Edgar says when Rick’s gone.
I shift my weight on the sidewalk. “No problem. Glad I was able to help,” I say, feeling a little awkward. This is normally when a woman asks the guy to come up to her place, especially when he just plunked down a mind-numbing amount of money on a penthouse she likes.
But we aren’t a normal couple, and my place is a fashion war zone. For a second I wonder if he’d run in horror if he were to see my apartment. But I’m unwilling to take the risk. His opinion matters. I want him to think highly of me, consider me as sophisticated and interesting as the kind of women he undoubtedly dated before. I tell myself it’s because men should genuinely respect the mother of their children, not because of anything else.
“I should get going,” I say.
At the same time, he says, “Have dinner with me.”
I’m not sure if spending more time with him today is a great idea. My heart is already too fluttery. It’s probably the shock of seeing him drop an insane sum on a place he says we should move into together, after he takes care of the Aaron problem. It can’t be anything else… Can it?
He looks super yummy. Smells yummy, too.
I’m probably just hungry.
You didn’t think Rick was yummy.