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He’d made the bed, so it looked like something straight out of a promo image for a Huxley Grand hotel. The new sheets I’d ordered had arrived, as had the comforter. They were freshly washed, and the bed looked so inviting.

“It looks amazing.”

For a man who claimed not to be a cuddler, Graham had held me every night since we’d come to France. I’d gotten used to falling asleep in his arms, and I hoped that wouldn’t change now that we had more space. Though, I noted that there was still only one bed. He must have gotten rid of my old mattress.

“One more thing,” he said, pulling me toward the bathroom.

The top of the bathtub was obscured by a shower curtain that hung from an oval-shaped copper rod.That’s new.

Graham pulled back the curtain to reveal a pole with a matching copper showerhead that looked as if it had always been there. “Voilà!”

“Wow.” I stepped closer. “That’s gorgeous.”

“That’s not even the best part.” He grinned. He was too cute. Clearly, he’d put a lot of effort into this project, and he was proud of it.

I could imagine Graham as a little boy, showing off his hard work to his family. Seeking their approval, their praise. Who gave that to him now that his grandparents were gone? Who reminded him that he was doing a good job?

“What’s the best part?” I asked, delighted both by the changes I’d witnessed in our home and in this man.

“We not only have a shower.” He switched on the faucet, and steam immediately rose into the air. “We have hot water.”

I gasped. “No way.” I stepped closer, placing my hand underneath the spray. Warm water cascaded over my hand, and it felt glorious. “Oh my god. I think I love you.”

Shit.My eyes widened, and I quickly jumped to damage control, hoping Graham would brush off my admission as a joke.

I stepped closer, tugging on the hem of his shirt.Distract. Divert.“You want to try it out with me?”

“What about your wig?” This was new territory for us—showering together.

“I can shower with it, but I typically remove it. The wig will last longer if I only wash it once every few weeks. But I can keep it on if you’d prefer,” I said with a twist of my belly.

He grasped my chin, bringing my gaze to his. “I want you to do whatever is most comfortable for you.” The words were spoken in a slow, measured tone.

I nodded, and when I inhaled, my breath was shaky. He released me, and I took a step back, removing my baseball cap before setting it aside. Since I often got sweaty when working at the château, I’d opted to wear glueless wigs while we were in France. It still had a lace edge, to make it look more natural, but it was a lot more comfortable for my scalp.

With my heart in my throat, I removed my wig, baring myself to him completely.

“Lil,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “Look at me.”

I met his eyes, scared to see what I’d find there. But he greeted me with acceptance, his eyes glowing with warmth and affection.

“You—” he cupped my cheeks “—are stunning.”

“You’re not…” I glanced away. “Disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” He said the word like it tasted bad in his mouth. “Why would I be disgusted?”

“Most people are weirded out by the baldness.” Some of the guys I’d dated in the past had been. So I’d always made sure to have my wig, eyebrows, and eyelashes on at all times.

“You’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, to the bare skin there. “Envoûtante.” I smiled, remembering him using that same word to describe me on our wedding day, and it meant enchanting or bewitching.

A tear streaked down my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling lighter.

“And if anyone ever says otherwise, they will regret it.” Anger flashed in those green eyes like lightning.

I would’ve laughed, but his tone was so serious, so menacing. For me. I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Loved.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX