I loved it when she was speechless. It didn’t happen with Emma often, but when it did I relished the moment. I knew she would love the apartment once she got home. Double the space. Plenty of room to decorate and fill it with her taste in furniture. I didn’t give a shit what she put in there, so long as she was happy and felt like she was at home. The two levels would be merged with a spiral staircase and the entire floor plan was being updated for a more open feel. We would go from having six bedrooms and four bathrooms to having ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms. Plenty of space for six kids, two adults, and still have room for a guest or two if they wanted to come over.
Our home. Fit for our unique family.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with your money,” Emma said.
“Trust me, I promise you’ll love it. And you can decorate it anyway you want.”
“I can’t get out of bed. How am I going to go furniture shopping?”
“There’s this wonderful invention called ‘The Internet’. I really should show it to you sometime.”
“Imagine me throwing my shoe at you right now.”
“Can you reach your shoe?”
“I can reach a knife. That a better weapon?” she asked.
I chuckled as I leaned back in my chair at my desk.
“I love you, Emma.”
I listened as she sighed and I could feel her smile emanating through the phone. The first time I said that to her was just after the doctor told her she needed to start her bedrest. She was upset. Crying over her job and the pain in her feet. I tried to hold her, and she cried harder because I couldn't get my arms around her, and I crashed my lips to hers to get her to stop. It killed me to see her cry. Even now, it did. And when I drew my lips back and looked into her beautiful blue eyes, they fell from the tip of my tongue easily and effortlessly.
Like it had always been meant to be.
“I love you too, Ryan,” she said.
“When you and the kids and the nanny get home tomorrow-- and I do mean tomorrow-- we’ll sit and have a massive conversation on how to rearrange the house. And none of you will lift a finger to do it. I have a feeling the kids will want to stay upstairs with the rooms they’ve decorated, but that means you get much more free rein with how to decorate the downstairs.”
“Sorry, I’m still processing the fact that there’s an upstairs and a downstairs.”
“And all of the stairs have wonderful views,” I said.
“For fifteen million, they better.”
And just as I’d promised, the construction crew packed up, cleaned up, and hauled ass out of there. I brought my family home the next morning, and the look on Emma’s face was priceless. Bags were dropped from weakening hands and the kids were squealing. Even the nanny’s jaw dropped when she saw the place.
“It looks so awesome!” Hunter said.
“Where’s our rooms now?” Zoey asked.
“Your rooms haven’t moved. They’re simply upstairs,” I said.
“So what’s gonna be down here?” Benjamin asked.
But Emma was still silent.
She slowly waddled into our new place and I grew nervous. Did she really not like it? Had I just spent all that money renovating this place only for her to hate it. Her eyes panned around and took in the vaulted ceilings. The roof-to-floor windows that matched the ones upstairs. She walked over to the electric fireplace and ran her hand over the hand laid stonework one of the men had been working on.
Then, I watched tears rise to her eyes.
“Emma?” I asked. “Baby, what's wrong?”
I strode over to her and wrapped my arms around her as much as I could.
“It’s beautiful,” she said breathlessly.
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline as a tear rumbled down her cheeks.