“You’d need a study,” I decide, nodding my head as we peek inside. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
Sal smirks, shaking his head and taking my hand, leading me down the hall. We check out the cozy living room. There are still nails in the walls where family pictures used to hang, and I find myself running my hand across the wall, twisting a lonely nail.
“How do you leave all this behind?” I ask a bit absently. I’ve only met Ethan the one time, but I can’t even imagine.
“I don’t know,” Sal says, simply. “We don’t really believe in divorce in my family. Obviously my Ma should’ve left my dad a million times over and she never did.”
“Yeah, obviously in my family you love us forever or die trying.”
That’s horrible, but he laughs. I love Sal so much.
“This house needs new memories,” I decide. “This house deserves a happy family to love it.”
Sal rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “You’re adorable.”
We go upstairs next. There’s a mural of a woodland forest painted in what I assume used to be a nursery, with a tree shaped bookshelf at the center of the back wall. The next room was clearly a little boy’s, with dark blue walls and a baseball field painted on the left wall. The third room belonged to a little girl, lilac walls with white carpet. There’s another mural in here, a fairy-esque pond with big-eyed frogs atop lily pads and sparkly butterflies flying over it.
“I love the murals,” I tell him. “I guess we have to have three kids—two boys and a girl.”
“Is this our house now?” he asks, lightly.
I nod my head, only half-joking as we approach the master suite. This one is lovely, all elegant with creams and textured walls. I see the door to the bathroom, but I don’t even need to see anymore—this is my suburban dream house.
“Your sister must be fucking awesome. He had the perfect life. The perfect home. The perfect family. I wouldn’t leave that for literally anything,” I state.
“He didn’t actually leave, he got kicked out. Anyway, it’s not his house anymore; you’ve already decided it’s ours, so I guess it has permanent occupants who know better.”
“Unless island Salvatore tries to reappear,” I state, turning around to playfully glare at him. “Have you heard from Vivian lately?”
He rolls his eyes like he’s not amused, but he knows I’m just teasing him. “Island Salvatore drowned. Bastard didn’t know how to swim without hands.”
“What an idiot. Who can’t swim without hands?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I want to see how comfortable the bed is, so I go over and jump on it. Ooh, soft. Perfect. I roll over on my back, closing my eyes and sighing. “Yep, I’m sold. This is my house now. You’re going to have to tell Ethan he’s not allowed to sell it.”
Sal crawls up on the bed with me, rolling on his back, but turning his head to look over at me. “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me buy that bastard’s house.”
I grin. “You hang out with him sometimes; you can’t hate him that much. And, while I think he’s crazy for ever leaving it, he is letting us hide out in his old house. He has to know he’s taking a big risk doing that.”
“Guy has a hero complex, that’s how he got himself in such deep shit to begin with. He can’t see someone in trouble and not try to fix it.”
“Well, I think you’re lucky to have him,” I tell him.
“I think I’m lucky to have you,” he replies.
Smiling softly, I curl up against Sal and rest my head on his chest. I close my eyes and just soak up the moment. It’s still morning and it’s already been a hard day, but I think Sal’s right. I think it’ll end up being a great one.
Chapter Thirty
“I thought you loved me.”
“Shh, he’s about to save her in his Volvo.”
Sal shakes his head, removing his arm from around my shoulders so he can lean forward and grab a snack. On the coffee table in various bowls, we have an assortment of cereals to snack on. A cereal bar, if you will. We never really eat cereal at my house since we have people to cook for us, but during the course of our relationship, Sal has taught me that dry cereal is the perfect snack to movie watching.
Tonight I’m making him watch Twilight.
“This is the textbook definition of cruelty,” Sal states. “If I ever doubted you were a ruthless Morelli, I couldn’t after this.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, not about to take this sass. “Um, excuse me, could you recall for me how many full seasons of Entourage I sat through? Eight. It was eight. You owe me.”
“I watched that BBC bullshit with you.”