It bothered me to know she hadn’t been accepted.
“I’m sorry. That had to have sucked.”
She shrugged. “Not really. It was a good learning experience, and if I hadn’t done it, I would always have wondered.”
I liked that in addition to being sweet and smart, Natalie was pragmatic and thoughtful.
“You haven’t mentioned your father. Can I assume he’s not in the picture?”
She shook her head. “I have no father,” she answered. “My mom went the artificial insemination route to have me.”
I was glad to know there wasn’t some deadbeat fuck I needed to take care of. My own father was an asshole of the first order who had bounced when I was fourteen. That was the year my Mom found out in a Dear John letter hanging on the fridge that dad had packed his shit and moved out on his lunch break. He’d moved in with another family across town. To add insult to injury his mistress was my Mom’s co-worker, a woman with two kids. I got dropped right along with my Mother, and Dad went on to play father of the year for his new family.
My Mom was devastated and turned to booze. She choked on her own vomit two years after I graduated college. By then I’d had a shitload of money, but it hadn’t changed a thing for her, in spite of how hard I tried.
I never spoke to my father, not that he hadn’t tried to “repair” our relationship once he realized how rich I was. I’d been loyal to my mother even in death, so I never let him in.
I was happy for Natalie that she had one parent who loved her and was there for her, even if it wasn’t in a way I totally understood.
“So she wanted to be a mom,” I commented.
“Very much so,” she agreed. “She’s so sad that I don’t want to work in the business. She’s been trying to gear me toward that direction for years, hoping I’d pursue set design or something. That’s not at all what I want to do with my life, though.”
If she’d chosen to stay with her mother and had decided to work in the business, we’d never have met. The idea was abhorrent to me. She turned and looked out the windshield as I processed all she’d told me. Going back over what I’d seen at her house, I grinned. I was pretty sure I could guess why being on film sets wasn’t the life Natalie wanted.
“Because of the travel, right? You're a nester.”
She brought her attention wholly back to me.
“Exactly,” she laughed. “I don’t mind travel if it’s for a vacation or a short work trip, but being away from home for more than a few weeks at a time is just… not for me.”
God, she was fucking perfect. It was like my girl had been made just for me. She wanted a family and she loved being at home.
“You’re a homebody,” I teased.
“Guilty,” she giggled.
“Me too,” I confessed. “I love my house. When I walk through the door, I’m always calmer. It’s a good feeling.”
“I can only imagine,” she laughed. “I’m sure your house is five thousand percent nicer than what I’m used to.”
My brow furrowed as I looked over at her. “Bigger, yes. Better decorated? No.”
She didn’t know it yet, but she had her work cut out for her to make it a home. My house was a showpiece, aesthetically pleasing but bland.
Her snort of disbelief made me grin.
“You’re sweet to pretend,” she teased.
“Who’s pretending? I love my house, but even I know it needs stuff. I live alone and until now, I haven’t given a damn about making it feel a certain way. The vibe of my house is all about luxury. Looking at your room clarified something for me. I want this to be a home that's inviting and warm. I’m sure you’ll have a ton of ideas.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured.
I smirked as I accelerated and changed lanes. She didn’t realize yet what was happening between us and what it meant long term, but she would soon.
* * *
Turning the car onto my street, I hit the button to open the gate. The long driveway ended in a central courtyard area where my house sat dead center. To the left, there was a six-car garage, to the right a pathway to an outdoor basketball court. On the other side of the court was a three-bedroom guesthouse.
Natalie’s eyes went wide as she took it all in. Hopping out of the car, I hurried around to her side and opened the door. She kept looking around as she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to get out of the car.
“This place is huge,” she murmured. “I’m talking massive, like behemoth size. Who else lives here with you?”
Taking her hand, I started walking her toward the front door.