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“It is. You made the apartment look better. New curtains?”

“Yes. Your windows were too naked.” Willa turns, her face a little hesitant. “You don’t mind?”

“The curtains? No, you’re right about my nude windows.”

“The curtainsorme using your credit card. I’m not trying to use you for your money,” she adds quickly.

“Trust me, I’m well aware of what being used for my money looks like, and I know that’s not what you’re doing. You probably only bought things that were on sale.” I can tell by her surprised expression that I guessed correctly. I pat the cushion next to me. “Now, come. Sit. Talk to me about what you’ve been trying to work up the courage to say.”

Willa smiles, but it’s wobbly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Little bit. Come on.”

Willa cautiously moves to sit down, keeping half a cushion between us with her knees together and feet flat on the floor. Much too prim and proper. I hook an arm around her waist and tug her over until she’s practically in my lap.

“Much better. Now, go ahead and ask. If it helps, please know that the answer is yes—I’ll change my mind.”

Willa tenses, practically turning to stone. She doesn’t look at me. “Change your mind about what?” she whispers.

Does she think I could possibly mean abouther?

Maybe I was wrong about what she planned to say. I pull her closer and press a gentle kiss on her temple. “There’s a possibility I guessed incorrectly. I thought you were going to talk to me about the letter I sent to residents.”

“The one with the rent increases and the no-pet edict?”

“I’d hardly call it an edict, but yes.”

My father would tell me I’m being sentimental, but I’m starting to see that as not such a bad thing.

“I’ve already drafted another letter announcing that I won’t be raising rent or kicking out puppies or parrots or anything else. Life at The Serendipity will continue as normal.”

Willa spins to face me, her blue eyes gleaming brightly. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not amonster. Even if my first instinct is to prioritize the bottom line over the human element. In this case, I had a change of heart about the building. I don’t need the money I’d make from selling luxury condos. And it would make people happy.”

Willa especially, but I’ve started to feel oddly attached to The Serendipity. Or maybe it’s the people who live here. I’ve heard so many stories while fielding the complaints and rebukes.

Like the Hathaways. The other day, the older couple stopped me on their way up to the rooftop garden. They told me how they met and fell in love here years ago. After their children were grown, they decided to return to The Serendipity to live out the rest of their days.

Then there’s Matteo, the chef whose grandparents used to live here. They were famous for throwing dinners in the courtyard for anyone who wanted to come, which inspired his love of cooking. He even invited me to eat at Aria, his restaurant, on the house.

After telling me I really should reconsider my plans, of course.

Nori Sinclair, who looks to be about Willa’s age, has lived here since she was four and told me she wanted to stay here forever—but the rent increase might force her to leave.

Sara tearfully begged me not to make pets leave while Archibald assaulted me with his tongue. Again.

And on it goes. I think I’ve met almost every resident now—mostly against my will and in uncomfortable confrontations—but the conversations have unexpectedly softened me.

Willa gasps. “You were going to turn The Serendipity into condos? Archer!” She pokes me in the chest. “Actually, I could totally see that working. But please don’t. I like where I live, and none of the other options are anywhere close to the price or character.”

I grab her wrist and bring her hand to my mouth, kissing her fingertips. “You were looking at other places to live?”

“Yes,” she admits. “Sophie and I were trying to find a two-bedroom place together.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to make the decision just because you felt sorry for me.”