Page 46 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“Well, you’re good at figuring out what doesn’t fit, then.” He snaps his fingers like a light bulb goes on in his head. "I know a furniture company that sponsors me. We can pick out some pieces online."

"Sure," I say, though I wonder how much input I should actually give. This is his space, after all.

We move to the kitchen and he opens a laptop on the kitchen counter. The website he pulls up is filled with sleek, modern furniture. It’s nothing like the warm, eclectic mix I grew up with.

"What do you think of this?" he asks, pointing to a sectional sofa.

"It’s nice," I say, noncommittal. "Looks uncomfortable, though."

He studies it, then nods. "Yeah, you’re right. What about this one?"

We go through the catalog, discussing pieces that catch our eyes. To my surprise, he takes my opinions seriously. I suggest a reading chair with an ottoman. Jay adds it to the cart without hesitation. We spend the next hour clicking through pages, commenting on fabrics and finishes. It’s almost… fun.

Okay, it is fun. I could never spend this much money on my own home. But Jay doesn’t even notice. A little voice in the back of my head wonders exactly how much Jay makes per year. With his large staff, I’d guess that it’s somewhere in themillions.

At one point, he leans in closer to point at a rug. I catch a whiff of his cologne and my heart does a stupid little flutter.

God, I’m so thirsty. It’s humiliating.I force myself to focus on the screen.

"We’ve got a good mix. I think it’ll feel more like a home now," he says, oblivious to my torment.

I nod. "It’ll take a few weeks for everything to arrive. I hope we didn’t blow your budget."

“Nah. I get a healthy discount. It’s been a while since I made a video for this site, so they’ll be excited to hear from me again.” Jay closes the laptop and looks at me. "In the meantime, we’ll make do. Thanks for your help."

"Don’t thank me yet," I say. "You might hate it."

"I doubt that," he says. “I like everything you do.”

I can’t tell if he means the furniture or something else. Blushing, I stand, stretching my arms above my head. "I should get some sleep. Where do we do that?"

“Sure, yeah. Come on.” Jay leads me up the stairs, insisting in carrying my suitcases. “Prepare thyself.”

Instantly, I’m struck by the contrast between the pristine, photo-ready downstairs and the cluttered chaos of the upper floor. Plastic packing crates are stacked haphazardly in the hallway. I see no furniture as we squeeze past a large, undecorated bathroom. It’s pretty apparent that no woman has ever had any say over this part of the house.

“Huh,” I say. Downstairs is sparse; upstairs isbare.It reminds me of a frat house up here!

"Welcome to Casa del Chaos," Jay says with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Downstairs is for the 'gram. Upstairs is where dreams of organization go to die."

I can’t help but laugh. "So, your house is like a mullet? Business in the front, party in the back?"

He chuckles. For a moment, it feels like we’re just two friends ribbing each other. That is, until we reach his bedroom.

It’s the only room upstairs that looks lived-in, with a large bed and a nightstand. The bed is an unmade heap of linens. A pile of clothes sits in the corner. My heart starts to race as I remember his suggestion that I sleep here.

We stand in the doorway, neither of us making the first move. "I guess this is it," I say, my voice smaller than I’d like.

Jay rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor."

I frown, trying to sound casual despite the heat creeping up my neck. When we first negotiated sleeping arrangements, my answer was definitely more along the lines of, “we can share a bed as long as pillows separate us.”

But now that I know what Jay has to offer in the bedroom, I want nothing between us. Not pillows, not blankets, not pajamas. I’m horny, even if I have a hard time just coming out and saying it to Jay.

So I manage a confident, "Married people usually share a bed. We can manage, I’m sure."

He lets my suitcases slide to the ground and takes a step toward me. There’s an intensity in his eyes right now. My breath catches as he comes closer. "Calla, we need to make this look real. If we’re awkward around each other, no one’s going to buy it."

“So… what are you suggesting?" I play dumb.

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