I scan the walls, surprised by the life inside the place.

The couches are wide and deep set, as if meant for movie nights or comfort rather than for show, as the ones in my living room are. The ceiling is high, and the light natural.

The walls are a soft gray, the trim stark white, and giant art pieces cover the walls. It’s bright and inviting.

Anthony squeezes my hand and I turn my eyes to his.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“It’s beautiful.”

He pulls me along, up a set of wooden plank spaced stairs to the second story.

There are doors on both the left and right side, a slider that leads to the front balcony behind us and a giant window at the back.

Anthony releases me and steps ahead, but I’m close behind. I get as close as possible and my eyes widen.

The light shines in, the sun high this time of day, and beaming through the loft-like space, creating a tranquil setting.

I step up to the glass, careful not to touch and leave fingerprints behind. “Wow.”

The ocean is just below the hillside, the house at the deepest point of the cul-de-sac, so there are no neighbors to see inside, no private back access for others to look up and through the glass. It’s just pure ocean for miles.

A low rumble sounds around me, and I turn, my eyes sliding to an electric fireplace running along the mantel.

Anthony sets the remote down, slowly peeling his suit jacket from his body next, his eyes intent and on me.

He tosses it over the back of the chair and slowly stalks toward me.

I know what the need for affirmation looks like, and it’s written over every inch of his face, so while I’m tempted to move, I know better than to actually do so.

But over his shoulder, something catches my attention, and my eyes follow.

Pearls.

An iridescent vase full of them.

A frown begins to build, but I refocus when Anthony’s hands land on my biceps.

“This is my home.” He gauges me. “Soon, it will be yours too.”

An anxious laugh slips, but I play it off as well as I can, and repeat what I already said because I’ve got nothing else. “It’s beautiful.”

“You, Jameson, are beautiful.” The look in his eyes shifts and I prepare myself for what follows.

He leans in, and I close my eyes as Anthony presses his lips against mine.

An unexpected, alarming hint of guilt warms my stomach and my features pull. My eyes fly open and I almost blanch when I find Anthony studying my expression, as if he never closed his own.

He straightens and while I quirk my lips upward, his point down.