Living in a luxury guesthouse on James's estate was a significant step up, but I still wasn’t inclined to bring girls back there. There was no fucking way I was taking advantage, much less bringing strangers onto the property. I thought it was bad enough that I lived there rent-free—no matter how vociferously I argued—and that James had gotten me a brand spanking new Honda to replace the one that had been stolen.
In the years since, I'd moved a few times, but when I never made a move to bring anyone home, I realized not having women over was something I preferred. The bottom line was that I liked to keep my distance. I went so long without a real home that once I had one, I became almost selfish about it. All the years I spent working nearly around the clock paid off.
I'd been aware of the fact that I was breaking new ground when I asked Allie to spend the night, but I hadn't known that I'd feel nervous about her reaction to my home. I'd succeeded beyond the wildest dreams I'd had as a discarded kid without any prospects. For me, the house wasn't just a place I went at the end of the day; it was a symbol of what I'd achieved while at the same time being the sanctuary I escaped to at the end of each day.
My eyes stayed trained on Allie as I shut the door behind us. When I saw her lips curve up into a soft smile as she looked around, something inside me eased.
"Wow. Your house is so warm and welcoming. It’s really beautiful," she praised. “Your decorator is a genius.”
I couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across my face. Yeah, I'd made the right decision opening that part of myself up to her. It was crazy that I'd known her for less than a dozen hours and had already shown her more of the real me than I'd ever come close to doing with a woman before. It felt damn good.
“Thank you. That means a lot since I’m the decorator,” I admitted.
Other than James, no one knew that. Not even my friends who were in and out on the regular realized that I’d done it all. I’d waited years to have the home I wanted. In large part, that was because it took almost two years to get Hart International to fit me into their roster. I could have used different architects and builders, but they were the best, and I wanted my house to be something that would last forever.
I’d used the long wait time to scour magazines, websites, and every luxury furniture store I came across in Los Angeles, New York, Paris, and Spain. What the Harts built for me was a dream come true, and the furniture I’d filled it with was everything I’d ever wanted. I could honestly say that for the first time in my life, I had a feeling of pride about my home.
“You did an incredible job, but now I know never to take you to my house,” Allie laughed.
I wrinkled my brow as I deposited her clutch on the entry table and dropped her shoes on the floor underneath it. “Why?”
“When Morgan’s parents retired and rented us the condo she grew up in, we went HAM at Ikea. It’s clear that ready-to-assemble furniture from a big chain store isn’t in your repertoire.”
I guffawed as I took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “Trust me, you couldn’t be more wrong. For many, many years, the idea of having enough money to shop somewhere like Ikea was nothing but a pipe dream. Believe me, Allie. I appreciate big box furniture just fine.”
Once again, I’d given her another piece of myself that not many people knew. My bio included the fact that I’d grown up in foster care, but my agent had whitewashed the story to such a degree that even I thought it sounded like I’d somehow managed to have an idyllic childhood. The reality was that nothing could be farther from the truth.
Walking through the doorway to the kitchen, I flicked on the lights and headed for the island. The white and gray cabinetry, professional-grade stainless appliances, wide plank hardwood floors, and Carrera marble counters were always a welcome sight.
At the island, I gestured to the under-counter refrigerators. “What’re you thirsty for? I’ve got water, Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, orange Gatorade, lemonade, iced tea, and triple x Vitaminwater.”
“Water is fine.”
After getting bottles for each of us and tucking them into the jacket of my Tom Ford tuxedo, I took Allie’s hand and led her out of the kitchen to the stairs. Just inside the door to my bedroom, I turned right and walked into my closet. It was four or five times the size of any room I’d had growing up, and every time I walked into it, I was thankful for how far I’d come.