Eden's Pov
I've carefully packed his Provalin pills into my purse, making sure the bottle is secure and hidden in an inside pocket. I'm ready to get out of this penthouse and finally go shopping for things the house desperately needs. The place seriously lacks any kind of decor or personal touch; it feels more like a fancy hotel suite than a home.
He gave me the phone number for his interior designer, a guy named Bobby, who has been surprisingly receptive and welcoming over the phone, already flooding me with even more suggestions. I'm expecting the stores to be crowded, so I have to make sure Enzo is mentally prepared for that. I can't take any chances with his anxiety.
[You know you're probably wasting your time with those pills, right? He isn't going to need them today.]
"I've got it completely under control already, Lotus," I dispute, zipping my purse shut with a definitive pull.
