Chapter 80. A Room Of Their Own

The house had a yellow front door.

Diana noticed it before the windows or the broad steps, before the woman waiting beside the gate with a folder under her arm. On a gray morning, that door seemed almost indecently hopeful.

Gabriel stopped the car.

“We can leave after five minutes,” he said.

“Would that disappoint you?”

“Yes.” He glanced at her. “But you can still do it.”

She liked the answer enough to kiss him before getting out.

He had shown her the listing over breakfast two days earlier. No offer, no deposit, no surprise set of keys. Just photographs and a question about whether she wanted to look. She had said yes because she was curious, and because the way he studied the small garden made her want to see it through his eyes.

Now she walked beside him up the path, her hand warm in his.

The agent introduced herself and opened the yellow door. The hall smelled of fresh paint and something older beneath it: wood, empty rooms,