The plans were spread across the dining table.
Three sets — the original Luxe blueprints, the architect's revised drawings, and Kya's own annotated copy covered in pencil marks and sticky notes and one section she'd circled three times in red and written absolutely not beside it in capital letters.
Julian stood at the end of the table with his reading glasses on, which he only wore at home, which Kya had decided early in their marriage was one of her favorite versions of him. He was holding her annotated copy and reading the red circle section with the expression of a man trying very hard not to smile.
"Absolutely not," he read aloud.
"Absolutely not," Kya confirmed from the sofa. She had her feet up, a cup of tea balanced on the arm, her own copy of the plans on her lap. "She moved th
