POV: Alex |
By the time I'd finished the suspiciously good pancakes and drank the last of that sugar bomb coffee, I was ready to crawl back into bed and pretend this entire marriage thing was a weird dream.
But Ava had other plans.
Big plans.
"You're done? Great! Let's go!" she announced, yanking the tray away like a magician doing a trick.
"Go where?" I asked warily, still blinking through the sunshine blinding my soul.
"The mansion!" she said, as if that explained everything. "I haven't explored the west wing yet. And apparently there's a koi pond? A koi pond, Alex. Fish. In water. That's, like, free serotonin."
"I have work."
She gasped like I'd just told her Christmas was canceled. "You mean paperwork? Meetings? Emails? Ew. Who even marries their childhood crush and then does emails?"
"I didn't know I was marrying you until—"
She grabbed my hand.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Grabbed.
And pulled.
"C'mon, Mr. CEO," she chirped. "Time for the Grand Ren Mansion Tour, Ava Edition."
Somehow, I was on my feet. Still half-asleep. Still confused. And still very much being dragged down the hallway by a girl in bunny slippers and a ponytail that swung like a curtain of ink behind her.
"Did you know there are three kitchens?" she said. "I've only seen one. And the basement has a wine cellar, which I'm totally turning into a snack vault. Also, I met the head housekeeper—her name is Lila and we're best friends now. She promised to teach me how to make dumplings like her grandma. And the driver—Mr. Zhou—he has two cats and showed me pictures. Adorable."
I blinked. "You… met the entire staff already?"
She turned around—still walking backward, by the way—and grinned. "Obviously. They're all so sweet. I made everyone tea last night! And by 'tea' I mean I boiled water and added ten different things until it tasted like hugs."
She tripped.
Over nothing.
She let out a squeaky gasp and stumbled right into me.
I caught her. Again.
She blinked up at me, lips parted in surprise. "Oopsie."
I stared down at her. "You're a danger to yourself."
"And yet here I am—alive and thriving," she said proudly, then tugged on my hand again. "C'mon! Next stop—the indoor garden."
"The what now?"
But she was already off.
I let her drag me.
Room after room.
Endless talking. Endless pointing. She stopped to pet the curtains in one room, squealed over a velvet armchair in another, and full-on screamed when she found a grand piano in the east wing.
"I don't know how to play," she said, "but I'm going to learn and serenade you every Sunday night. Fair warning."
"Please don't."
She grinned like she heard yes.
Somehow—somehow—she even made friends with the koi in the pond outside.
"Look, that one likes me," she whispered, squatting next to the water. "He has a flirty aura."
"I think it's just swimming."
"I'm choosing to believe it's flirting."
This was my life now.
Sugar. Sprinkles. Rambling. Bunny slippers. And kisses blown at fish.
She looked up at me suddenly, eyes wide. "Do you think the koi know we're married?"
I stared at her. "You told the koi?"
She looked scandalized. "Of course not! You said to keep it a secret. But I feel like they just… know, you know?"
I didn't answer.
Because in that moment—with the sun on her hair, a smear of pancake syrup still on her cheek, and a koi fish flapping near her finger like it actually was flirting—I wasn't sure whether I was still dreaming…
…or if I'd accidentally married a fairy disguised as a very, very loud human.
And maybe—just maybe—I didn't entirely hate it.