"This is luxury." he whispered. I shook my head, not being able to process what he was saying properly.
The room was adorned with thrift store goodies, old couches, and smelled-- well, old.
I clutched my Coach bag, gritting my teeth and shook my head once more.
"This is a mistake." I stated, exhaling quickly.
"It is not." he replied, taking my hand.
I squealed at the contact, because-- goodness, this was where he lived, and I don't think this was really what I had in mind when he described his house as 'deluxe'.
"You've got to be more open minded then that, lass." he told me with a grin. "Luxury isn't all about money, or what the media and markets tell you is beautiful. In fact, I think you are missing out on a few things."
I stared and knitted my brows together.
My head was still swimming in confusion.
"This is what I call home, Jen. I hope you have a place to call home too."
He offered a sad smile. He knew it wasn't true.
I threw my purse aside and hugged him.
Maybe he was right-- this was indeed, luxury. To be in the arms of someone who cared for me.