Shhh! Don't tell my assignments that I stayed up to write this chapter instead of working on them!

Chapter 43

I couldn't believe my eyes as I parked outside the address Lula had given me. There had to be a mistake. No way was this where Lula was living now. I pictured Lula in all her spandex glory, and it just did not compute. There was picket fence out front, for Pete's sake! The two storey colonial home looked like it came off the cover of some house and living magazine. The lawn was perfectly manicured, a small gardens on either side of the porch appeared well tended, shutters on the window. The view took my breath away, but I couldn't see Lula living here. Whipping out my phone, I quickly dialled the woman.

She picked up on the fourth ring. "White girl! Where you at? You're not calling to bail on dinner, are you? You already bailed on donuts today."

I shook my head. I should have known she'd hold that against me. Food was more than just a source of energy for Lula, it was a way of life. If Lula shared her food with you, or wanted to eat with you, you were a special person. Being offered a chicken wing from her bucket was like a sign of respect. "I'm not bailing," I assured her. "I'm just calling to make sure the address you gave me is correct."

"Course it is," she dismissed. "Why? You lost?"

"Uh…" I stared at the front door as it opened and Lula stepped out onto the porch. "Nope," I confirmed. "Not lost. Just didn't expect the house to be this…. Uh…"

She chuckled. "Just get your ass inside," she instructed, and hung up. She did not, however, go inside. Probably she was making sure I didn't suddenly turn my car around and make a dash for it. Smart move, I was suddenly feeling off kilter. And things only got worse as I slid out from behind the wheel and started up the path: Louis had joined her on the porch. As I watched, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his front so he could press a kiss to the side of her neck. Lula let out a giggle – a freaking giggle! – and swatted him away.

I'd forgotten how smitten they were with one another.

Louis released Lula as I reached the bottom of the stairs, a huge grin on his face. "Stephanie!" he greeted warmly. "It's so good to see you! You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"I should hope so," I returned, rolling my eyes. "Last time you saw me I had a newly broken nose and was suffering ill-effects from painkillers I'd been given." I made it to the porch and had just enough time to establish my balance after the three steps I'd just climbed when Louis' arms were wrapped around me. "You're looking good as well," I said, sending Lula a 'What the hell?' kind of look over his shoulder. I wasn't used to physical affection like this, and I definitely did not envision any husband of Lula's being the kind to doll out hugs willy-nilly.

"Thank you, Stephanie," he said, letting go and stepping back beside Lula. He was still smiling. There was a moment of silence, broken only by a dog barking down the street. I felt awkward. This was too surreal. It felt very grown up. The house, the greeting, the… everything. "We should head inside," Louis said after a beat, opening the door and gesturing for Lula and I to precede him through it. "Lula why don't you give Stephanie the tour while I go check on dinner."

"Good idea," Lula agreed, dragging me by the arm into the house. Correction: home. It was not a house. The second I stepped inside I could feel the warmth radiating from every corner of it. This was no mere building where two people co-habited. There was something about it that just sang out with love. It made my heart constrict just a little to think about how happy Lula must be in her new life for her home to be speaking to me on such a level. "Come on, White Girl," she urged, not stopping for a second as lead my toward the stairs. "We'll start with the bedroom. I know that's what you're most curious about. It's what I'd be wanting to see."

My head swivelled this way and that as I followed her through the hall and up to the second floor, taking in little details: the photo of Louis and Lula on the wall, the potted plants that adorned several surfaces and corners we passed, the FMPs that had been abandoned at the bottom of the stairs, the tie hanging off the banister at the top of the stairs. All the little lived in details that took it from being just a place to sleep to a vibrant conduit for their lives.

"Tada!" Lula trumpeted as she swung open the door to the master bedroom.

I stared in awe. I'd been to Lula's old apartment a few times over the years. She'd never been all that well off, but she always made sure her bedroom was decked out. And here was no different. I could certainly see that some compromises had happened as they settled in together, the overall décor much muted from that of the eclectic style my friend was known for, but there was no doubting that this space was Lula's. The bed – the huge bed – was covered in white, Egyptian cotton sheets with a purple duvet and pillowcases. When I looked closer, I discovered the duvet and pillows were actually covered in a subtle leopard print. A pair of matching fluffy handcuffs hung from the bed post. Yup, that's Lula alright.

There were hints here and there of the kind of person Louis must be as well: a pair of reading glasses and Stephen King novel sat on one bedside table. I almost snickered at the thought of Louis innocently trying to get in some reading before bed with Lula being her usual, voluptuous self right next to him.

Next, she showed me the walk-in wardrobe, and ensuite bathroom. Again, I noted the ways in which their two lives had come together. I wouldn't say blended, that definitely wasn't the word for it, but it didn't clash either. Things that I thought for sure would have cancelled each other out, unable to inhabit the same space, sat side by side like it was no big deal.

Downstairs, Lula took me into Louis's home office, which was big and comfortable, and full of plants. She made a beeline for the chaise lounge in the corner and arranged herself on it artfully.

"He put this in for me," she explained, patting the space she'd left for me to sit down with her. "So I can watch him while he works. He gets this cute little wrinkle between his eyebrows when he's concentrating." A small table beside the lounge held a pile of magazines, an assortment nail polishes, nail file and couple other bits and bobs.

Wandering over to the oak desk on the other side of the room, I ran my fingers along the edge, revelling in the cool touch of the wood. There were a bunch of papers strewn across the work area in front of the computer, along with a calculator, a ruler and a few pens and highlighters in various colours. It dawned on me that I had no idea what Louis actually did for work.

"He's the top budget analyst for that hotel chain, Utopia," she said when I voiced the question. "He's, like, a math genius or something. Incredible. Come on, three more stops on the tour."

We blitzed through the living and dining rooms, and I found myself in a spacious kitchen, surrounded by a delicious aroma as I watched Louis bustle around the pots and pans he had on the go.

"You're back!" he pointed out, turning around from the stove and spotting us just as Lula and I were sliding onto stools at the island bench, after she'd poured us each a glass of wine that had been chilling in the fridge. It was so weird to think that he hadn't noticed our presence straight away. I was so used to the guys with their superhuman senses that it had somehow become my expected norm of men my age. That seemed a little unfair to every other man on the planet.

Louis reached over the island to brush Lula hand, and they shared one of those lovesick looks like the first time they met. I felt like I was intruding on a tender moment, averting my eyes to something – anything! – else in the room before the lump in my throat took hold and I found myself unable to breathe. Seeing Lula happy after everything she'd been through over the years had me more emotional than when I watched the Notebook while on my period that time.

"Dinner's almost done," Louis announced, as a timer went off, breaking the moment. "Where do you want to eat?"

Lula looked from her husband to me, then glanced past me to the hall and the dining room I knew was beyond it. She seemed to be weighing her options, making some complex decisions in her head. "Here's fine," she said after a second. "It's comfortable. No need to go all formal and sit in the stuffy dining room, right White Girl?"

"Right," I agreed, smiling. She may be married, and she may be living in the most gorgeous home I've ever seen, but that didn't mean she'd completely changed as a person. She was still my Lula from the streets. Things didn't have to be complicated and fancy for her to be happy. And honestly, I was grateful that she'd decided on the kitchen island. I didn't think I'd be able to handle dinner at a proper table without wondering if she'd been snatched by the Burg and brainwashed.

Over the course of the evening, I managed to get to know Louis a little better. He was indeed a budget analyst, and very clever when it came to numbers. He was also an avid gardener and loved to cook – hence the decadent meal he'd provided. He and Lula seemed like chalk and cheese, but they appeared to be settling in to married life with ease. He accepted her for who she was and didn't expect her to change, or settle down just because she was hitched. Something about her had mellowed, though. It was like she'd finally found her happy place.

I also managed to explain to them both about my time training with Brandon and my plans to continue working on myself and get my life in order. I went over the training the guys had helped me organise, touching briefly on the financial factors that had played a big part in the process. I tried to gloss over it, feeling awkward bringing it up when Louis was sitting there with his big math brain that dealt in dollar signs every day. Probably, he'd never had a financial woe in his life. I mean, look at his house!

"I'm just grateful to whoever decided to pay my rent while I was away," I concluded, stabbing a bean off my plate and stuffing it in my mouth as I maintained eye contact with the gravy boat in front of me. "Otherwise I'd be a lot worse off. Dylan's the best super I've ever had, but I'm not sure even he could have prevented me from being evicted if my rent had been left unpaid for three months."

Silence blanketed the kitchen all of a sudden, the tinkling sounds of cutlery having ceased. I looked up to find Louis and Lula in a rather intense staring contest as they attempted to communicate without words. It wasn't quite the same as when the guys did it; theirs was a mere locking of eyes for a few seconds and all the understanding was passed from one brain to the other telepathically. Lula and Louis's silent communication appeared to involving a lot of head jerking and eyebrow contorting.

I was just wondering if I should excuse myself to use the bathroom when Louis cleared his throat and caught my gaze. Uh-oh.

"Stephanie," he said evenly. "I'm the one who paid your rent."

"WHAT?!" I screeched before I could stop myself. Taking a quick breath, I laid my cutlery down and tried again. "I mean, what? Why? I-"

Louis lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Lula was worried that you wouldn't be able to afford it between the time off you had for your dislocated shoulder and the fact that you were away for an undetermined amount of time," he explained calmly, lacing his fingers with his wife's on the counter. "I checked in with your building supervisor and he said that the rent hadn't been paid, so I paid it for you."

"But why?" I insisted. "You didn't have to do that. I… I'll pay you back. I promise. I just-"

"You don't need to pay it back," he assured me. "Consider it a gift of gratitude for everything you've done for my Lula. If it weren't for you we would never have had the chance to meet."

I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Lula gave me a slight shove to knock me out of it. "I told Louis about how you saved me from Ramirez," she said gruffly. "I would have died if it weren't for you."

"Not to mention you came with her to meet me again after we were married," Louis pointed out, grinning from ear to ear. "If you hadn't been there who knows what would have happened! Lula might have chickened out. Or we might have met, and I would have assumed her awestruck silence was rejection, like I did, and turned and walked out of her life again."

"I still want to pay you back," I said, completely stunned by the generosity of this man. Lula really had hit the jackpot.

"No," Lula said firmly. "If you really want to do something to show how grateful you are, you can get me into that kickboxing class you mentioned before. It sounds right up my alley."

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into domestic life with Lula.