The living area was open to a small dining table, and as I went closer, I saw it was set with red heart-shaped plates on top of rectangular placemats that had a border of hearts. There was a heart-shaped wooden fruit bowl with apples, bananas, and oranges, and naturally, the salt and pepper shakers were hearts as well.

A glance at the kitchen, and I, too, couldn’t help laughing. “Jesus.” Heart mugs, heart canisters, a heart cutting board, heart-covered oven mitts, and more of the heart dishes… “Someone vomited hearts.”

I looked at Chloe, who was walking toward me to see the small kitchen area herself, her lips pressed together against more laughter, her eyes lit up with amusement.

“I had no idea,” she said. “I swear. It’s a nightmare of hearts.”

“Perfect for a couple of newlyweds,” I said, unable to not grin.

“I can heart-ly believe my eyes.” Then she laughed again as her eyes skipped over the overload of hearts in the kitchen.

She took a few steps across the wood floors—if you squinted past the decor, the place was actually very nice, obviously built recently, with high-end finishes and quality furniture. Chloe opened a couple of kitchen cabinets until she found an empty one, then she began loading anything with hearts inside. Piece by piece, she “cleaned” the kitchen of every last hint of hearts, and then the dining room.

Next, she marched into the living area, located the coat closet near the door, opened it, and when she saw there was plenty of room, in went the throw pillows and any decor that wasn’t attached. When she was done, we were left with the armchair and the window-covering garlands, but she’d cleansed the place of all the other heart vomit.

With a look at me, she nodded once as if to say, There.

“Feel better?” I asked, still grinning.

“Much. This is a great little place when you get rid of the awful decor.”

“Not a romantic, huh?”

“If you need hearts to be romantic, there’s something wrong with you,” she said.

I definitely did not need hearts to be romantic, if romantic was the right word, because as I watched Chloe bend over to grab a heart-framed plaque she’d missed on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, I couldn’t take my eyes off the curves of her ass outlined in that pure-as-snow dress.

I wrenched myself out of my stupor and strode toward the one bedroom I’d spotted so far, wondering if there were others but suspecting there wasn’t room for more.

The bedroom was carpeted and had ship-lap walls and, you bet your ass, a shit ton of heart-shaped pillows on the bed. I was shocked and somewhat relieved that there wasn’t some kind of giant heart-shaped headboard.

Before I could follow Chloe’s lead and shove the pillows in a closet, she came into the room.