Most girls would be jealous of Calliope Draycott. She seemingly has it all. The friends, the money, the boyfriend, and in a few years, if all goes to plan, she'll have the job too. So why doesn't she feel happy? It's after a disastrous family dinner...
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I think Isaac's place is my favourite place in the entire world.
It's way out of what his price range should be, but "price range" isn't really a thing when your Mum is one of the best real estate agents in the country, with a personal real estate portfolio to match, and your Dad is one of the best plastic surgeons around.
My family are wealthy, but Isaac's are in a league of their own.
He lives in a Victorian house owned by his mother and gets a hefty (80%) discount on the rent, which is the only reason he can afford it. His job pays well but not as well as nepotism which pays a lot better. Specifically, in the form of two-bedroom flats in Chelsea. Beautifully decorated flats in Chelsea, but that was more my doing than Isaac's. It's also another reason why I feel so at home here, I'd helped him put it all together. I picked out the grey sofa I'm currently stretched out on, and the throw pillows and the coffee table and the rug. I picked out pretty much everything, from the coffee maker to the mattress for his king-sized bed.
As large as the house is though, it isn't all his. His mother had each floor converted into a flat, and he lives on the top floor. It has the best views of the gardens nearby, and a balcony. His flat is by no means small though, none of them are, and they've all been renovated to be open plan. It's a two bedroom, even though he lives on his own and has no plans for a roommate, as far as I'm aware anyway.
I think he is planning on using the second bedroom as an office, but we haven't started decorating it yet, university and work got in the way, but I have big plans for that room. Plans that include an entire wall - floor to ceiling - of bookshelves, a nice rug, a big desk and a few chairs. What could be more perfect?
Suffice to say, Isaac is spoiled, but I'm not going to complain, especially when I'm relaxing and enjoying the view. By the view, I mean, Isaac cooking me dinner. There's nothing sexier than a man that knows how to cook. And if I'm honest, it's one of my favourite things about him.
His family's personal chefs taught him well when he was growing up. Sometimes they still brought him over some food, even though he doesn't live at home (and he hasn't since he went to university at eighteen) and is fully capable of cooking for himself. He's actually a little bit of a show-off in the kitchen, which again, is very sexy.
He's spent all afternoon making a three-course meal - even though I would've been fine with a bowl of pasta and maybe a glass of wine. It's sweet how much effort he's putting into tonight, but that doesn't stop me from feeling a little bit on edge. It all seems a bit over the top for a normal weeknight.
I don't even realise that I'm looking at him and smiling fondly until he does a little spin as he dances around his kitchen and meets my eye, sending me a wink, and all I can think is I love this man, and he looks away and goes back to focusing on the food.
I get up off the sofa, somewhat reluctantly because it's so comfortable (and I silently congratulate myself for picking it out) and walk over to the kitchen island and sit down opposite from where he is cooking. 'So, have I forgotten our anniversary or something?' I joke, because he's going all out tonight, and I don't quite understand why.
