Page 78 of Anyone But You

“Keys,” I demanded, holding my hand out to Doug. He patted his pockets until he found my spare keys in his jacket.

“I had a maid service perform a deep clean of your home, and the refrigerator and pantry are fully stocked,” Doug mentioned, dropping the keys into my eager hand.

“Thank you, Doug. Expect a bonus for your exceptional work.”

“Thank you, Knox. Enjoy your first night home.”

I glanced at Victoria, and I relished the lust in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Doug. I will.”

* * *

“This…is…gorgeous,” Victoria whispered once we entered my lovely abode. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floors as she stared at the ceiling as if it were the Sistine Chapel.

I closed my eyes and settled against the door, breathing in the scent of fresh linen, citrus, lavender, and eucalyptus. It was both familiar and unsettling—a vast difference to the smell of rain-soaked earth, salt air, coconuts, tropical flowers, and seaweed.

“You have an elevator?” Victoria screeched, bringing me back to reality. I smirked and pushed myself off the door. My cane thudded against the floor with each step as I searched for the missus, eventually finding her in the formal dining room, deep in thought.

“You seem troubled,” I said, observing the tension in her posture.

“Not troubled… just… thinking.”

“About?” I pressed, moving closer.

“Thanksgiving. My mom always made a big deal out of it. Even though she memorized most of the recipes, she’d crack open this old recipe book that was passed down to her and cook in the kitchen like she was a mad scientist. Every year, she’d try a different dessert recipe.”

“What was the last one she attempted?”

“A fucking Baked Alaska.”

I snorted at the randomness.

“It was a hot mess express. She had ice cream melting everywhere, but she enjoyed herself just as much as I enjoyed eating it.”

“Do you have the recipe book?”

“I do. It’s tucked away in my safe at my apartment.”

“Maybe you should recreate it this Thanksgiving,” I suggested.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I think I might.”

“I look forward to it. I have a surprise for you in the guest house.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“What kind of surprise?”

“The kind you’ll love,” I replied, grabbing her hand and leading her to the backyard, past the outdoor kitchen and pool, to the guest house that was a mini replica of the main house.My stomach twisted in knots as we traveled down the stone pathway. I was worried about how Victoria would react. She was a wildcard sometimes, and the last thing I wanted to do was overstep again.

My hand landed on the doorknob, and I twisted it and pushed it open without another thought.

She froze.

Everything was in place. The living room had been stripped and rebuilt into a soft, sterile haven with wide walkways, low lighting, and a nurse station tucked discreetly into the corner. One bedroom had been converted into a caregiver suite, and the other into a fully equipped medical wing.