Becca.
A few days later, we were back in the car again. James said he had another surprise for us.
I couldn’t stop smiling while we drove through town. While it wasn’t Italy with its countryside charm, Scarsdale didn’t disappoint. The streets were lined with Tudor-style buildings, and every home looked like it had sprouted around lush, green forests and seas of perfectly mowed lawns.
James eyed me as he held Alessandro, who giggled from being bounced up and down.
“If you’re smiling now, I can’t wait to see what you’ll think of this new house,” James said, more to Alessandro than to me.
I’d learned the house we’d been staying in was just temporary, and that the real one was the surprise. That was why James hadn’t even left his things in the bedroom the night we got there.
“Where ARE we staying, James?” I eyed him suspiciously–with everything going on, I hadn’t even asked. “Are we renting this place? Is it with friends or contacts of yours?”
