Oddly for those few months... or rather, since I've known Clinton, I've never been at his place. We always met at mine or in the city. Somehow there never was a need for me to go there.
I was honestly surprised when I saw a modern house in a private housing estate.
We drove up to the driveway, actually Clinton drove my car. He insisted he would manage. So I sat down in the passenger seat, looking out the window where we're headed. We were in Beverly Hills, not far from Santa Monica.
The house was located just before the hill and looked really cool. The gray façade, transparent large windows and minimalist design in no way resembled my seventies style home, but I felt that this place was fine for me. I didn't know if I imagined raising a child in this place, but I did my best to think about it. All my life I was a little reluctant, but I came across a second person with a similar approach, so we both had to learn the art of compromise.
We got out of the car and I had to stretch a bit because my back hurt like hell. I leaned back, rubbing a sore spot down my spine.
"Everything okay?" I saw Clinton leaving the car, standing right next to me.
"Yeah, let's go inside" I grabbed his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
Everyone has already inside, so we entered last, closing the door.
I looked around, noticing the large clean space. All walls were white and furniture in dark wood. The stairs to the first floor were large and shiny. I wondered if they are always so clean when they are in the apartment.
Not watching too much, Clinton led me behind, still not letting go of my hand, leading me probably to his room, as I guessed.
We entered the dark room. Almost immediately, the boy threw his sports bag on the floor, going to the window, revealing a large window almost to the entire wall.
As I had noticed, the room contained a large bed with a high black headboard, a wardrobe close to and a door to the bathroom next to it, as I had expected. On the side of the room was a desk with equipment, it was probably his mini studio. There were a few colorful paintings on the walls with melting and melting logos of brands. I didn't know why, but this room screamed that he lived here.
I smiled slightly at myself, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"What are you thinking about?" asked the boy, laying his back on the mattress next to me.
"This room is yours..." I said, pointing at the pictures and equipment "I love that feeling. I feel your soul in this place."
"Thanks" he chuckled slightly "Are you hungry, do you want to take a bath or shower? Recently I bought a bathtub to make it easier for us to wash the baby" he confessed at the end of the sentence.
"I'm going to take a quick shower" I got out of bed feeling how hard it's coming to me. I was afraid that I would not be able to do it soon. I was a very small person, and the child began to weigh more and more.
"In that case, I'll go down to the boys a bit," the dark-haired told me, heading for the door to the corridor.
"Clinton?"
He turned in the door, looking at me with a question in his eyes.
"Do you have Nutella in the fridge?" I asked hopefully.
"I'll see" he nodded "Any more wishes miss?" he cringed at himself at the end of the sentence.
"No, I think that's all" I smiled encouragingly, closing the bathroom door.
