Lost in La La Land(50)

In the circle drive a massive fountain spewed water into the air, creating rainbows in the middle. I wouldn't have recognized my house if I hadn’t driven right to it.

I threw money at the driver and ran up to the entrance as he and Lana struggled with the bags.

She shouted something at me but I ignored it, desperate to see inside.

The front doors had been preserved, fixed up and restained. The hardware glistened as the gates did, polished and new.

Mike smiled wide as he opened the door, almost bowing. “My lady, your house awaits. We even got most of the basement done. I hired out the yard to a friend’s company, so we will have to add that to the b—”

“You’re ruining it.” I lifted a hand.

“Sorry.” He laughed and stepped aside, his face as eager as mine.

I lifted my hands to my lips, gushing. “Oh, Mike. Oh my God.” I stepped inside, spinning in a half circle to try to see it all. “You even had the furniture delivered?” I gasped. The front entryway was like I never imagined it could be. I narrowed my gaze. “How did you do all this in three weeks?”

“We worked night and day.” He laughed his bitter chuckle. “The floors are Italian marble with radiant heating. No more cold floors.” He beamed with pride.

The white square tiles laid on the angle to look like diamonds were separated by a black circle at each corner. The black-and-white floor glistened with the daylight and brightened up the old space. I didn't recognize anything in the house. The walls were that same crisp blue-white as upstairs and the moldings were all the antiqued cream. The lacey banister and railings shone, tying into the floor and creating a focal point.

My shoes clicked across the floor as I made my way into the sitting room. It was done in teal and beige, creating vibrancy and happiness. It was the happiest room I’d ever seen.

The sofas were lush and thick, looking identical to the catalogues and websites I had picked them from.

Throw pillows and rugs made up the few accents we had.

The massive fireplace took up half of one wall, going floor to ceiling in river rock. It was beautiful and yet added that warmth the room needed.

We continued the tour to the dining hall. The huge industrial table sat twenty comfortably with a giant chandelier hanging over it. Mike had insisted upon the table, boasting about how the exposed steel bolts holding the table together contrasted with the softness of the fabric chairs. Adding the glittering chandelier was exactly the right touch. The fireplace in here was ornate and done in that same antiqued white as the rest of the trim in the house.

The flooring on this floor was the same driftwood as upstairs, but the walls were a slightly bluer color than the rest of the house.

As we made our way through a beautiful archway, the kitchen stopped me dead in my tracks.

My hands wouldn't come away from my lips as tears streamed my cheeks. Mike wrapped an arm around my shoulders, just holding me as I sobbed.

It was enormous, boasting double islands with Italian marble countertops to match those in the bathrooms and cabinets to match the antiqued trim and doors. The sinks were huge, three of them. The backsplash was made of translucent blue glass subway tiles and went up the entire wall and around the enormous window where the largest sink was.

A small glass table sat under the bay window in the far corner overlooking the garden.

Every bit of this would have been picked by Jonathan. It paid the perfect homage to his memory. But it wasn't Jonathan I was grateful to.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered, wishing I cooked more than Lean Cuisine and salad.

“I’m so glad you like it,” Mike muttered, still holding me. His rough fingers against my bare arm felt more real than anything I’d had in a long time.

“There’s more.” He strolled me down the hallway to the butler’s pantry and access to the five-car garage they were in the middle of constructing.

“I don't own a car.” I glanced at him, confused.

“You might one day. Maybe you’ll want to drive. It’ll be the wrong side of the road for you, but I could teach you.”

“Wrong side of the road?” I was lost.

“Compared to Britain. You all drive on the wrong side.”

“Britain?” I almost said I was from Los Angeles, but I didn't. I hadn’t noticed I spoke with an English accent.

Mike was real.

I was fake.

I swallowed the comment down and nodded. “I would love to learn to drive.”

“And the bathrooms and billiards room are this way. I also took the liberty of adding a theater room. I wasn't sure how much TV you ladies watch, but it would make an excellent selling feature.” He walked me down the other hallway, past the foyer where Lana was hauling in bags and glaring at me.

“You could help.”

“We’re doing the tour,” I snapped back at her.

The bathrooms resembled the ones upstairs and the billiards room was more like a cigar lounge for men, not really a room I could see myself entertaining in.

The study was lovely, done in a shabby chic décor as we had planned.

The theater room was ridiculous. “Was this necessary? It seems a bit ostentatious, like I can’t just go to the theater on my own.”

“Says the lady with seven bedrooms, a living room that seats thirty people in two separate seating areas, a dining room that seats twenty, the nicest recreation room I've ever seen, a study, a three-thousand-square-foot library, nine bathrooms, and a five-car garage. Yes. A theater room ties in nicely.” He rolled his eyes and I laughed.