Chapter 129
{Lisa’s POV}
I murmured under my breath. Hmph!
“You know you love usss,” he added as Heri slipped past me, peeking around the room with curious eyes.
She ran her hand over the window frame, then turned back to me with a small, hopeful smile.
I sighed, giving in. “Fine. You can stay here.l, sweetie.”
Ronan squeezed my shoulder, victory shining in his expression. “Good choice, wife.”
“Shut up.”
But even as I said it, I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. If this was what it meant to argue with him these days, maybe I didn’t mind so much.
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If someone had told me weeks ago that I’d be moving into a room with Ronan, I would have laughed them straight out of the house. Muchless giving said room to someone else. Yet here I was, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, staring at the walls with a brush in hand while Ronan leaned against the doorway like he owned the place… which, to be fair, he did.
“Everything is set already,” I muttered, chewing on my bottom lip as I scanned the corners. “But if I don’t do this myself, it won’t feel right.”
“You really want to paint again?” Ronan asked. “We could have called someone. I could have called five someones.”
“No,” I said firmly, dipping the brush into the pale lavender paint. “This is for Heri. It has to come from us.”
“Translation,” he said dryly, “you want to scratch that workaholic itch of yours.”
I shot him a glare. “That is not it. I’m not a workaholic.”
He smirked, stepping into the room. “You say that while holding a paintbrush like that. So forgive me if I'm not buying into it.”
Before I could fire back, Heri popped her head in, eyes wide with excitement. “Can I help?”
My chest softened instantly. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Come here.”
And just like that, it became a family project.
While I was mentally mapping out what to do, Ronan smiled. “Oh, you're so neurotic sometimes.”
He rolled the paint roller in his hand as though he had done this a hundred times before. Then, without a word, he crouched low and sprang up, landing gracefully halfway up the wall, his arm sweeping a perfect stroke of paint across the top edge where no one would reach without a ladder.
I blinked, mouth open. “Show off.”
“That was barely anything,” he replied with a shrug, leaping higher to finish the corner.
Heri clapped her hands, her little laugh bubbling out.
I broke out in laughter. I had to grip the brush tighter to keep from dropping it while I doubled over. Ronan’s growl rumbled low, but his mouth twitched like he was fighting a grin.
“He's like an oversized frog, isn't he, Heritage?” I said.
“Yes,” Heri said innocently. “Frogs jump high too.”
He glanced at me and Heri, raising a brow. “Well, that makes you one too, cause we're the same.”
My expression froze instantly. “The thought that I know you keeps me up at night sometimes.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He laughed. “Now, let's get to work.”
The work moved quickly, which was the plan to begin with. We could be done within the hour.
I handled the lower walls, Heri busied herself with dusting the windowsills, and Ronan made the impossible look casual.
At one point, I crouched down to inspect the corner trim when I felt something cold and wet swipe across the tip of my nose.
I froze. Slowly, I looked up.
Ronan stood there, holding the brush, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Did you—” I began.
“Accident,” he said, far too smoothly.
“It was not an accident!”
Before he could respond, I snatched the brush from the tray and flicked it at him. A small splatter of lavender paint dotted his shirt.
He glanced down, then back at me, with that dangerous little smile that told me I had just started a war.
The next few minutes dissolved into chaos. Paint streaked across my cheek, my arm, and somehow my hair. I lunged for him, dabbing at his jawline with the roller while he ducked and retaliated. Heri squealed, darting around us like she was caught in a storm, giggling so hard she nearly toppled over.
“Lisa,” Ronan growled. “You are making this worse.”
“Good!” I cried, collapsing onto the floor, out of breath and covered in smudges.
I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, laughing until my stomach hurt. “Now we’ll have to paint all of this again.”
Ronan crouched beside me, one hand brushing paint gently off my chin. “Look,” he said.
I lifted my head, blinking. The splatters and streaks had blended into something surprisingly beautiful, a soft pattern swirling faintly like water ripples across the wall.
“It’s…” I trailed off, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “It’s lovely.”
Heri nodded enthusiastically, her little fingers pointing at the patterns. “Pretty.”
Ronan’s gaze softened as his hand cupped my jaw and tilted my face up toward him. “So we agree. No repainting.”
I sighed dramatically, still smiling. “Fine. You win this one.”
Then he straightened, inhaled deeply, and blew a steady stream of air across the damp paint. In seconds, the lavender dried smooth, the sheen settling like it had been there for years.
I blinked again then nugged his side. “You’ve been holding out on me, wolf man.”
“Only a little,” he admitted.
When it was finally done, the room looked like something out of a dream. Simple, soft, and hers.
“Ready?” Ronan asked, crouching down to Heri’s level.
She nodded, bouncing on her toes.
We led her out into the hallway, Ronan and I each covering one of her eyes with a hand. She giggled the entire way, her tiny hands gripping ours as we guided her back into the room.
“Okay,” I whispered, glancing at Ronan.
“On three,” he said. “One… two… three.”
We lifted our hands.
Heri’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she took it all in. The lavender walls, the soft curtains, the neatly made bed with its new quilt. Her little body trembled, and tears welled at the corners of her eyes.
“This… for me?” she whispered.
I knelt immediately, wrapping my arms around her. “Yes, sweetheart. For you.”
Ronan scooped her up effortlessly, holding her between us. Together we pressed close, sandwiching her in a hug so full it felt like the walls themselves might hold it.
“You don’t have to worry anymore,” I murmured.
“This is your home now,” Ronan added after me.
Heri buried her face against my shoulder, her tears dampening my shirt, but she was smiling through them. And in that moment, covered in paint and laughter, I knew we had done something right.