Page 291 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“The soup can wait. I’m feeling better.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

I grin. “Bet your bottom dollar.”

He punches in a code that was sent to him, and the moment we walk into the brownstone, I regret it. It’s the most beautiful home—light and airy, creamy-white walls, wide-planked beige wood floors off the marble flooring at the entry. I grab the sleeve of his jacket. “Harrison?”

Covering my hand with his, he looks at me. “Yeah?” he asks, keeping his voice low like we’re trespassing.

“How much?”

I feel his body vibrate with laughter as I visually get lost in the stunning kitchen.

“I’m thinking between twelve and fifteen million. I’d have to see the comps. Fully renovated, it could go higher,” he replies. “You like what you see?”

“It feels like a home, a sanctuary in the middle of the city.” I turn to him and ask, “How many square feet and bedrooms?”

He stops and stands in front of me. “Are you seriously interested?”

“I can’t afford it but just humor me.”

“Okay.” He opens his phone to read the spec sheet. “Four floors like Nick and Natalie’s. This one has an elevator. Looks like a closet. Five bedrooms. Five and a half bathrooms. An office on the top floor. A den in the basement along with a gym. Twenty-five hundred square feet out back.”

I’m still stuck on how the sunlight sends rays across the living room floor. Heaven.

“Want to hear more?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, my heart already too invested in something I can’t afford. “I’m good.”

“Hello?”

We both turn around to the sound of a woman’s voice. Harrison says, “Hi, I’m Harrison Decker. I was sent the code to tour the property.”

With purpose, she comes toward us with her hand held out. “Yes, of course. I’m Dolores. I live here. It’s so nice to meet you. Natalie raves about you.” She shakes his hand firmly by the looks of it and then turns to me with one hand on her pregnant belly.

“That’s great to hear. Nick is my oldest friend.” Harrison looks at me, and adds, “This is Tatum Devreux. She’s?—”

“Hi, I’m a client of his.”

Her smile is as welcoming as her home. “Oh,” she says, looking back at him. “That’s impressive.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Harrison says.

“Yes, I’m running late to meet my husband and kids for dinner. I’ll get out of your way so you can tour the home.”

I say, “Thank you for letting me see it.”

“I’m happy you’re here.” Holding up her finger, she asks, “Are you of the Devreux Shipping family?”

“Yes.”

Her hands clasp together over her baby belly, and she nods, appearing pleased. “That’s so interesting. Very well. Carry on. And I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow, Harrison.”

“You definitely will.”

Her heels clack across the marble floors in the front of the house, and I imagine that being mine. The sounds of home.

Leaning down, he whispers, “You didn’t have to say that.”

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