Chapter 41 Grace Nash

Lego Closet Perfection

A Few Weeks After the Wedding

The plane touches down in San Diego on Sunday morning, and I'm excited that Spencer invited me here for my birthday—and not just because it means a couple more days away from Amelia, but because I can't wait to get a glimpse into my husband's apartment.

I'm not sure stranger words have ever been thought. Yep, I married someone whose apartment I've never stepped foot in.

My husband invited me over to his apartment.

Can't wait to see my husband's place!

The weather is perfect a couple weeks before the end of May, and Spencer navigates his car from the parking lot at the airport toward his apartment, which is situated a little closer to the beach than the stadium.

He parks in the garage, but he wants to show me the view of the water from downstairs before he takes me upstairs.

It's a mistake. When we reach the sidewalk, someone is poised near the parking garage entrance with a camera. He snaps our photos, and my brows knit together.

"Nash! Is it true you got married?" the man asks. "Is this your wife? "

Spencer holds up a hand and doesn't otherwise respond, and I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or insulted that he didn't respond.

I'm leaning toward relieved…but my heart can't help but feel like I'd love for him to answer that question.

I'd love for him to brag to whoever this man is that he's married now.

But he didn't.

When we get inside the building, I glance up at Spencer. "Who was that?"

"Paparazzi," he answers through gritted teeth.

Isn't that an even better reason to have given an answer? "Won't they just hound us until you answer?"

"In all honesty, they mostly left me alone in Minnesota, but this is a new place, and I need to find my footing. My agent always advises me to keep my mouth shut if I'm not sure how to respond." He shrugs as we step onto the elevator to take it up to his apartment on the top floor. "You okay?" he asks as we ascend.

"Yeah. I guess it just threw me."

"I can answer next time," he offers quietly. "If it'll make you feel better."

I shake my head. "No, no. I've just…I've only really dealt with the media that one time in Vegas with you. Otherwise, I'm used to my quiet little existence at the vineyard."

His lips tip up a little. "That quiet existence is one of the things I love about you." His eyes widen as he realizes the words he just said, and my heart trips a little over them. He lowers his voice to a rasp close to my ear. "And the fact that when you come, you're anything but quiet."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. "Oh my God, Spencer!"

"Yeah, baby. Just like that." He raises a brow, and all I can do is shake my head with a mortified laugh.

We exit on the thirty-fifth floor, and there are only two doors up on this level. He unlocks the door straight ahead of the elevators, and he stands aside to let me in first.

The first thing I see is the view .

I beeline for the windows, forgetting that I'm actually pretty curious about what secrets Spencer's home might hold about him.

The penthouse suite looks out over San Diego Bay. Coronado Island is a little to the left, and beyond that is the entire Pacific Ocean.

For a girl who's used to beautiful views out the window of some of those ten thousand lakes Minnesota is known for, paired with the vines and trees that represent my entire family…I'm stunned into silence.

Minnesota is pretty, sure. But it's not the beach, and there's something tranquil about looking out over land that isn't a part of my family history.

It's a completely different feeling than the one back home. This isn't home, but it's my husband's home, and I could get used to this life, too.

Just not at the expense of having to leave Minnesota. This is vacation…temporary. That is home…permanent.

Spencer walks up beside me. "The view is what sold me on the place. It's a little more than I wanted to spend for a rental, but it's worth it to come home and look out at that."

"I can imagine," I say. I turn toward him. "Show me around."

He nods. "Well, this is the view." He turns and sweeps his hands out. "And this is the place. Kitchen, building table…I mean dinner table ." He points to the table as I chuckle. "Family room," he continues, pointing out the couch aimed at the television hung on the wall. I spot a few Lego sets here and there, and I follow him down a hallway next. "Lego room," he says, pointing into what I assume is one of the guest rooms. There's a project table in the middle, a television hanging on one wall, and shelves and shelves of completed sets all around the room. This view is out the other side of the building, boasting a city view that's not as pretty as the ocean side but is still incredibly interesting to look at.

I spot the Millennium Falcon in a place of honor on one of the largest shelves, and I walk over toward it. "The piece de résistance," I say formally, and he laughs as I inspect some of the other sets he's built in here. "Did you take them all apart when you moved here?" I ask.

He nods. "This is just what I've built since I moved in. And this is my Lego closet." He opens the walk-in closet, and Lego boxes are neatly stacked on shelving units spanning from the floor up to the ceiling, and they appear to be organized by branding. It's impressive, to say the least.

He is really the cutest.

And so, so perfect for me.

But it appears fate has other plans for us…ones we don't even see coming.