Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) by Rowe, Lauren (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

“Only a few minutes,” I say, even though I’m thinking, “Only the rest of our lives.”

The car makes a turn, and then another, before coming to a stop in front of my new house.

“Surprise,” I say, gesturing out the car window.

Laila follows the trajectory of my gesture and looks straight at my house. But it’s clear from her facial expression she has no idea what she’s seeing. “Where are we?” she asks. “Who lives here?”

I try not to smile too big. “Let’s go inside and find out.”

Laila’s jaw drops. “Did Kendrick buy a house?”

I chuckle at Laila’s shocked reaction. If she’s this excited for Kendrick to buy himself a new, beautiful house in Malibu, she’s going to have a straight-up aneurysm when she finds out the true owner of this beauty. “You guessed it,” I say. “Nothing gets past you. Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s gorgeous. Wow. Good for Kendrick.”

“Let’s go inside and say hi.”

“Yes! How exciting!”

We get out of the car and walk, hand in hand, toward our new home, as Laila babbles happily about the beauty of the house and its spectacular location. As she rambles, it takes all my willpower not to interrupt her to scream, “The house is ours, you fool! I want you to live here with me, forever!”

My new house isn’t huge, like Reed’s place. It’s not small, by any stretch. But nobody would ever call it a mansion. Which suits me perfectly. As far as I’m concerned, the place is the perfect size for Laila and me and our needs. We’ve got enough room for ourselves and any guest we might have—Sasha or Laila’s family. Plus, some extra rooms for music- and pottery-making. And best of all, there’s a perfect place in the living room for Laila’s baby grand—a spot in a corner overlooking the ocean. The house is so perfect for Laila and me, in fact, I wanted it the second I walked through the front door. The minute I entered the house, I said to Reed and Georgina and Reed’s real estate agent, “We’re done for the day. I’m home.” And that feeling only grew and solidified as we visited subsequent houses throughout the day, just in case, none of which held a candle to the cliffside house that had instantly felt like home to me.

When Laila and I arrive at the front door of our new house, she rings the doorbell. And when I punch a code on the box by the door, she rolls her eyes and says, “Of course, Kendrick gave you the code. You two are so cute.”

I open the door and follow her inside, and while she gushes about how gorgeous it is, how spectacular the view, how much she loves the furnishings, I say, “I’m glad you like it. Because it’s not Kendrick’s new house. It’s ours.”

“What?” she shrieks.

“I bought it for us, baby. So we could live here together. Please say yes.”

She throws herself at me and screams, “Yes!” And I laugh and hug her to me.

We kiss and hug for a long moment. She asks me a thousand questions about when I bought it, how long I’ve kept this secret. Until, finally, I laugh and say, “Come on, baby. Let me give you a tour of your fancy new house.”

Thirty-Six

Savage

“Our living room. Obviously.” I gesture toward the room we’re standing in. “You won’t believe the ocean view in the daytime. It’s a little slice of heaven.”

Laila rushes to the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of our living room, and when she gets there, she presses every inch of her body against the glass, like she’s one of those rubber lizard toys that adheres to glass with suctions cups. Of course, I can’t help belly laughing at her exuberance.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispers. “Oh my God. I can see so many stars!” She turns around, her face aglow. “I can’t wait to sit out on the balcony and watch the sunset with you!”

“My thoughts exactly.”

She sprints across the room and flings herself at me, almost knocking me over. “I love it!” Her eyes land on the baby grand piano in a corner behind me and she gasps. Squealing, she disengages from me and lopes over to it, bounding across the room with exaggerated movements, like she’s a gazelle bounding through tall grass. And, once again, I belly laugh at her enthusiasm.

“I hope you don’t mind I had it delivered here, rather than to your condo,” I say, even though her body language makes it clear she’s thrilled.

“Thank you!” she shrieks happily, hugging and kissing her beautiful new instrument like it’s her long lost child. “I love you, baby!” she coos. But she’s not talking to me. She’s talking to her new piano.

Without hesitation, Laila slides onto the piano bench and whips off the introduction to one of her biggest hits. “Listen to that sound! It’s glorious!” She gasps. “Should I play you the song I wrote for you?” I open my mouth, but before I’ve said a word, she answers her own question. “No, let’s wait. I’m way too excited to see the rest of the house. I won’t even remember my lyrics. Come on!”

She leaps up and takes my hand and drags me into the adjacent kitchen. And then proceeds to hug the island and every professional-grade appliance. She opens cupboards and drawers and fawns over every little detail. She holds up a cheese grater. And then a can opener. A couple pots and pans. All of which make her “ooh” and “aah” like she’s watching a spectacular fireworks display.

“How do you have all this stuff already?” she says.

“I bought it fully furnished, with Reed’s help, and then Amalia and Georgina helped me with the finishing touches.” I tell her the story of how I wound up staying a couple days at Reed’s house after Mimi died, while Laila was still in Cabo. “Great news,” I say. “Amalia said she’ll come over once a week