Page 54 of Chasing Lyric
“Oh, you haveno ideaof the mischief those two got into.”
Chase chuckles, leading me toward the sofa. “So, shall we order some food?”
I collapse onto my gray three-seater sofa, kicking a pile of mismatched cushions to the floor without a second thought. Chase settles beside me, eyes wandering the room like he’s taking inventory of my soul, because honestly, that’s what this place is. Every corner screams me.
The space isn’t huge, but it’s enough. Cozy, layered, lived-in. A round wooden coffee table sits in front of us, crowned with a cheerful little potted plant that’s somehow thriving on chaos and neglect. Against the far wall rests my vintage buffet, woodenwith brass handles that gleam just enough to make my dad feel like he contributed something tasteful. On top, my pride and joy, a tall, green-stained Tiffany lamp casting a soft glow across a scatter of quirky ornaments I’ve picked up over the years.
To the side, a terracotta pot cradles a tall, spiky plant in a forest-green stand, perfectly leveled with the buffet like they’re friends in conversation. A wicker chair lounges in the corner, overflowing with colorful cushions that don’t match but somehow belong together. Near the door, my sunshine-yellow armchair beams like it’s welcoming you in for a gossip session. The television is tucked beside the big bay window, which opens to a sleepy street view framed by gauzy curtains that dance when the breeze sneaks in.
Under it all lies a patterned rug that pulls the whole room into a warm embrace, grounding the space. Above us, a single blue chandelier hangs, ornate, unapologetically vintage, and a little bit extra. The walls are peppered with weird, wonderful art, faces, shapes, and colors that make people tilt their heads and say, “Huh.”
But that’s the point.
This room is a glorious riot of the old and the new, the wild and the whimsical.
Nothing here matches.
And that’sexactlywhy it works.
My whole house follows the same chaotic harmony. Dad insisted on sprinkling in some high-end pieces to soothe his interior designer ego, but honestly? I’d take a secondhand gem with soul over a polished showroom piece any day.
Chase doesn’t say a word, just smiles as he takes it all in.
And I smile too because in here, youcan breathe.
“Food, yes? What do you feel like?” I ask, yanking out my cell to order something.
He shrugs. “This is your date. You pick.”
“Oh, you asked for it, Hallmark.” I open the app, ordering Indian—the hotter, the better.
My two loves, sugary sweetness and fiery spice, so tonight I’m opting for the latter.
He leans back on the sofa, his arm outstretched behind me as I cuddle against his side. “I’m so glad you wanted to come here, Chase,” I admit honestly.
He moves his arm around me. “Me, too, Starlight. Me, too.”
“So, you ready forThe Night Agent?”
He rubs my arm up and down. “How about a chat first?”
“Sounds serious. You need to admit something. Confess a deep, dark secret?”
He rolls his eyes. “I feel like I should make something up now to shock you, but I’m trying to be serious here.”
I clear my throat. “Right, sorry. Go ahead.”
He exhales. “Anyway, tell me about you, Starlight. I want to know everything aboutyou.”
“Oh, this is one ofthosechats,is it?”
“Lyri, I’m trying here,” he berates.
I lean up, kissing his cheek. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll behave. Okay, about me…” I glance up at the ceiling. “Well, I suppose you will find this out anyway, so I may as well tell you.” His brows crease like he’s concerned. “My family is kind of famous.”
He jerks his head back in shock. “As in, famous-famous or notorious famous?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
