myself to sleep.
Twenty-Three
Laila
Evanston, Illinois
“Is this still Chicago?” I ask Savage, looking out the window of our limo. After pulling away from the curbside at O’Hare, we’ve been driving about thirty minutes now, and the view out my window has become decidedly suburban and upscale.
“No, we’re in Evanston now,” Savage replies. “Mimi’s house is a few blocks away.”
“It’s so pretty here.”
“This is where Mimi lived as a teenager.”
“Oh, I thought you lived with Mimi in the City.”
“I did. In an apartment. But Mimi lived here with her mom when she was young.”
I return to the window on my side of the car. “Was Mimi’s family wealthy, or did this neighborhood become posh more recently?”
“Mimi grew up poor. Her dad died when she was twelve or thirteen, so her mom got work as a housekeeper in this neighborhood.”
“Ah.”
“I’ll let Mimi tell you the whole story, but, basically, Mimi’s mom went to work for a rich family in Evanston, and that’s where Mimi met her husband, Jasper, a teenager. He was one of the rich family’s teenaged sons.”
It’s the longest, and most relaxed, conversation Savage and I have had all day. We didn’t speak at all during the drive to the airport this morning, though Savage’s dark eyes pleaded with me to speak first. We barely spoke during our flight, other than to ask polite questions about legroom and the shows we were separately watching. But now that we’re here, and on our way to Mimi’s new house, the cold air feels too super-charged with excitement and adventure for my heart to remember to be closed off.
The limo turns onto a residential street lined with stunning mini-mansions. And when the car makes another turn, the passing homes turn from mini-mansions to actual ones—massive homes with meticulously sheared hedges and tidy walkways and iron gates. Stunning homes that look straight out of a bygone era.
“Whoa,” I breathe. “These homes are gorgeous.” I gasp and point. “Look at that one!”
To my shock, I’ve no sooner said the words than the car comes to a stop in front of the very house I’m indicating—a breathtaking mansion with countless windows framed by green-painted shutters, sprawling gardens, and brickwork walkways.
I open my mouth wide in shock. “This is the house you got for Mimi?”
“This is it,” Savage confirms, his beautiful face radiating with pride.
As the driver exits the car and begins unloading our luggage from the back, Savage and I start bundling up for the short walk from the street to the front door. I don’t know anything about architecture, so my brain can’t conjure the right words to describe this home. All I can say is it looks like a “Victorian mansion” to me. Or maybe a Civil war era house? Yeah, I don’t know what I’m talking about. All I know is it looks old, but painstakingly restored, and gorgeous. No wonder Savage wanted to keep his full salary from the show! I don’t know how much this fancy house cost him, but I have to think Savage was depending on his full salary from the show when he decided to buy it.
“Who lives here with Mimi?” I ask, as we begin walking up the front pathway with our luggage.
“Sasha is staying here, for the time being, and Mimi’s got a rotation of caregivers who stay here, too.”
“I’m not sure there’s enough room for everyone,” I joke.
“Just barely,” he replies.
“It must take a day just to vacuum the downstairs.”
“I’ve got a maid service coming, twice a week, to keep it from getting dusty.”
“Wow. I would have given anything to play hide and seek in a house like this as a kid.”
Savage flashes a crooked smile. “I’d be happy to play with you during our stay, if you’d like.” There’s sexual innuendo buried in his tone. Knowing him, he’s probably imagining himself nailing me, wherever he finds me.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I say. “We’re here for Mimi.”
His face falls. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks again for that.” He reaches for the doorknob, but stops and takes a deep breath, like he’s gearing up for something.
“What?” I ask.
He bites his lip. “I know intellectually you’re only here for Mimi’s sake. But, still, my heart is racing. Even if this is fake, it’s still a first for me—bringing a girl home to meet my family. I’ve never done that before, and it’s kind of exciting.”
Oh, crap. In a torrent, I feel the urge to throw myself into Savage’s arms and kiss the hell out of him. I want to