"Don't have a heart attack or anything. It's really nothing. Most of this s**t is stuff my father put in here." I sighed as I held the door for her.
I didn't want her to walk inside and think this defined who I was when it didn't. My father was the one that liked to fill homes with expensive accents to make their name look good. It wasn't me. I could give a rat's ass about material possessions. I spent money on cars and the rest was donated to places that needed it, like a children's hospital that I volunteered at.
Eden walked in and I watched her stare at the white marble flooring and the grand staircase with black iron railing made to look like vinery. She peered over at the fountain and modern oil paintings that lacked color. They were just abstract shapes on canvas with white lights
