Page 80 of Stranded

“I’m a fast learner,” I promise with a wink, starting up the engine. “You’ll see.”

Chapter

Thirty

RONAN

Alph tugsme to a halt before I can head up the porch stairs. “Hey, Ronan? Let’s head in through the back entrance.”

I stand back to let him wrestle the suitcases down the cobblestone path around the side of the house. I’m perfectly happy to save my big, strong hunk any more staircases with those damn things.

“The back entrance?” I tease, trotting after him. “You don’t need to ask me twice.”

His eyes twinkle as he glances up at me. “I will anyway. I want to try everything with you. Twice, just to make sure.”

The excitement is almost too much. I bite my lip, struggling to keep myself from jumping his bones right here and now. Just a few more steps and we’ll be inside…

But first, apparently, there’s a locked door.

We trade grins as Alph digs out his keys and unlocks the door, then pushes it open. He hefts the suitcases inside, and then he follows suit and turns on the lights.

“Come on in.”

I step inside… and, for what feels like the hundredth time today, I stop in my tracks.

“What the…”

The dining room table is gone. The sofa and chairs have been moved to this spot, forming a little sitting area. To the left is a desk sitting by itself, tucked in next to the kitchen.

“That one’s mine,” Alph says when he notices me looking. Then he grins, like he’s waiting for me to come to the inevitable conclusion.

I pivot to stare at the living room… which isn’t a living room anymore. My whiteboards are all hanging up in a row on one wall. My mannequins—once shoved behind the sitting chairs upstairs—stand neatly in gaps between shelving units, which are all filled up with clear plastic bins.

My stuff—all of it, including the mess left behind by my ex-roommates—is in those bins. And they’re all neatly labelled in Alph’s handwriting.

In the middle of the room, there are two more desks, all set up for me to work from. And I swear I see on one of them…

“Is that my sewing machine?” I sprint over to it, my jaw dropping as I lean over to inspect it. “Holy shit. But it was…?”

“It wasn’t the picture of health,” Alph smiles at me. “But Marianne felt bad. She wanted to make up for it. And we’re going to be baking her alotof pies in return.”

“So many pies.”

I can’t see the rest of it. My eyes are too blurry now, as tears trickle down my cheeks and I turn back to Alph.

“Is this really…?”

“Yes, Ronan,” Alph murmurs. He steps closer and gently squeezes both my hands. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

I yank my hands out of his so I can wipe my eyes with both hands, and grab his great big silly face, and kiss him until the very air gives out from my lungs.

Alph moans sharply, his hands going to my waist as I finally pull away dizzily. “I take it that’s a yes.”

“Fuck, yes,” I whisper. I’m still in shock. “Did you do all this today?”

“I had help. We were planning it for a while. That’s why I left the door… um. You know.” Alph clears his throat.

“Ohhhh,” I groan with the realization. “Fuck. Really?”

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