Who Am I (A Jai Courtney Fanfic) Book 2

Chapter 64-Meg

Meg

We drive to the airport and Jai has me take my motion sickness medication on the way. When we arrive, I grab my cameras, my violin, and my satchel. I let the crew handle the rest of my luggage. Jai walks me to the private plane that's waiting for us. We sit down inside in the seated area. I let the stewardess take my violin and camera bag.
"Do you want that house?" Jai questions me.
"Do you?" I ask.
"I like it. We could make it our own," he shrugs. "I actually looked into local supply costs and I got a quote from Luis. We could get the work done quickly and cheaply. If it turns out we don't like it, we could sell it for a profit."
"So... you're saying you want it?" I grin.
"Would you be mad if I told you we already got it?" he asks.
I laugh in surprise. "Are you serious?" I question.
"People usually jump at a cash offer," he shrugs. "I offered less than what they were asking, mentioning all the work we're planning on plus the exterior upkeep. They agreed to it."
I chuckle and reach over to hug him. He kisses me.
"So... we officially have our own place," he grins.
"What's the plan, though? We won't be back for a while," I point out.
"I'll just have to sign the paperwork. We can choose what we want and have it installed before we come back from the honeymoon. They'll do the flooring and basement first so we can use the bedrooms and basement right away," he tells me.
"I still think we should keep separate residences until the wedding," I say softly.
"Alright," he agrees.
I told him earlier on that I thought I should stay in a hotel when we get to LA. He was kind of sad at first but understood. He admitted it was a temptation for him having me so close in Australia. He says I'm staying at a hotel not too far away from his home. I offered to pay for it but he insisted on footing the bill. I don't argue with him about such things. I just thank him.
Our plane takes off without a hitch and I'm actually not feeling too bad. They serve us a lunch and we both eat it. It's nice and I actually feel fine. I can't believe that little bit of medicine is all I need to help me feel so much better. Had I known before, I never would've dreaded flights so much.
We arrive at Los Angels International Airport—the third time I've been here but just to catch our changeover. It's pretty big but I think Chicago's is bigger. We walk through the building easily and grab our luggage. We leave quickly and step outside.  I'm hit by the heat and completely surprised.  It's got to be at least 80 degrees here.  It was 45 when we left Ohio.  He grabs a taxi and gives the driver an address.  We drive on a highway. I'm surprised when we come to a neighborhood so speedily. It's a nice area—probably suburbs to upper middle class but I'm kind of shocked at the yard size. They're all really small, like smaller than I was expecting. There's very little green space and the houses are practically right on top of each other. The house size and yard space seem to grow the further we keep going.  We arrive at what must be his home. It has substantially more property than the surrounding houses.  It's a white house with a clay terracotta roof and dark trim. It's somewhat modern-looking on the outside and considerably bigger than the others. There's some green space with grass and plant life in the front. He has several kinds of palms in his front yard—quite tropical. It honestly reminds me of Popi's old house in Florida when he retired—except I think he had considerably more yard space than this and the house wasn't so grand.
Jai climbs out of the taxi and so do I. He has the driver help him with all of our luggage up the stairs and to the front door. I'm a little confused since I'm not staying here.
"I'll drive you to the hotel," he clarifies as he unlocks the front door.
I nod in understanding. I step in and it's rather modern, but it has a beachfront kind of feel to it, too.  The colors are all light with a medium brown wooden flooring and matching vaulted ceiling beams everywhere.  He hates carpet—I learned that today.  But he does have a rug in the living room.  As I've been looking around, I realize he and the driver brought everything inside.  He tips the driver and walks him to the door.  He closes it behind him and strides over to me.  He kisses me gently at first, then growing more passionate. 
"Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" he whispers. 
"I don't think it's a good idea," I say as he trails kisses down my neck pulling me closer. 
He sighs slowly, shakily. 
"Yeah, you're right.  I wasn't myself just now," he admits. 
"Do you want to put your things away and we can drop mine off?" I ask. 
"I'll just dump them in the bedroom.  I can unpack later," he replies dismissively.  "You want to go to the beach when we're done?"
"Um... sure?" I say questioningly.  "Will we have time for that?"
"We should," he grins knowingly. 
He drops his baggage back in his bedroom like he said and I wait in the living room, sitting down on his sofa.  I notice he has a fireplace in here but I'm almost certain it's gas or faux.  I look around and admire how nice this place actually is.  It's not quite as fancy as his home in Sydney—it's more comfortable and somewhat more common but still probably close to high end.  I actually like it but I've heard California living can get exceptionally expensive. 
He comes out a minute later with his beach clothes on.  He has two towels in hand.  I smile at him and take the towels as he grabs my suitcase.  I throw my camera bag over my shoulder and go to reach for my violin when I see he already has it in hand.  He locks the front door and we cross through his house quickly.  I see he's got a decent sized kitchen—also light in color with an arch around the doorway but it was mostly open to the living room.  There's another entrance from this side.  I see a glimpse of his dining room.  He takes me down some stairs and opens the door for me. I step out.  We're in his garage.  He has a car and a motorcycle in here—of course it's a muscle car.  It's a black two door with two white stripes in the middle. He opens the garage door and then the trunk of his car.  I'm surprised he didn't want the cab to take us since it was bigger but it looks like my suitcase fits.  He takes my camera bag and sets it beside the suitcase and then tucks my violin case on top.  He closes the trunk and looks to me.  He smiles.  I smile back as he reaches for me and holds me for a moment.  He leans down and kisses me gently.  He sighs and slowly releases me. 
"Let's go," he says. 
We climb into his car and I'm reminded that black is his favorite color. 
I'm actually kind of sad when he pulls out and I see most of the space outside is paved.  The cement driveway leads to the street and there's no green space here.  I realize this is the side of the house, though, and I do see a grassy area around the corner—the front, I think.  There are a few trees over there, too. 
He drives us through a neighborhood and past a nice downtown area.  He pulls up to a hotel that's right on the water.  I see a marina with a myriad of boats docked there.  Some are out on the water.  It's incredibly beautiful.  I can't believe he got me a reservation here.  I'm suddenly struck with inspiration.  I feel like I need some paints and canvas...
We step out and I can see a pier and beach further down the coast.  This area is beautiful and I can't believe he actually lives here.  He checks me in and we're taken up to my room.  The door is opened and all I see is the view of the ocean.  I gravitate towards it in awe.  I hear Jai speaking and I try to focus on his words. 
"Do you like your room?" he whispers in my ear. 
"I need paint," I tell him. 
He laughs lightly, "I'll have to find you an art store nearby."
I feel a gentle kiss to my temple and cheek.  I sigh as he holds me looking out at the view. 
"One more month," he says softly and I think he's regretting not setting the date sooner.  So, I ask him.  "I can wait a month, but probably not much longer," he admits.