“We do?” I say and then I’m interrupted when I hear Avery squealing and then running to the railing.
“There is a princess bed!” she shouts, looking through the spindles. “It’s a big princess bed with a dresser and everything.” She looks at Stefano. “Can I play with the toys?”
“You can do what you want. It’s yours,” he replies, and she squeals right before she runs back into the room.
“Come and have some coffee. We can talk before she comes back downstairs.” He drops his arm around my waist and slips his hand into mine. “I’ll give you the tour after,” he tells me as we walk past what looks like an office, and on the other side, I think, is a dining room, but all there is are hanging lights with no table.
I stop in my tracks when we walk into the kitchen that has a little table off to the side, but there is a huge island in the middle of the room with six stools tucked under. But it’s the attached family room that makes my feet stop. It’s what I always thought my family room would look like. It’s what I’ve always dreamed my family room would look like. Definitely not like the family room I grew up in, where everything had a place, and you were afraid to touch anything. Where pictures were displayed because of who was in the pictures and not because it was a nice picture. No, this room is where you know it’s okay to curl up on the couch. Where you can sit and have a movie night with throw blankets.
Where you can lie down and take a little nap.
A huge couch sits in the room that can seat a lot of people, with a big square table in the middle facing a fireplace. A big-screen television is hanging above it. “This is—” I start to say as he lets go of my hand and walks into the kitchen. “This is perfect,” I tell him softly before I smell the coffee, turning to watch him put another pod in the coffee maker.
“Where do you want to sit?” he asks me, grabbing the milk from the fridge and pouring a bit in each cup.
“The couch, if it’s okay,” I say, trying to hide how badly I want to sit down and curl my feet under myself.
He walks toward the couch with both cups of coffee and waits for me to follow him before he hands me a cup and I sit down, but not the way I want. I take a sip while Stefano faces me. “Do you know what I do for work?” he asks.
“I don’t.” I just look at him, placing the cup of coffee on the big wooden table. I look for coasters
in the middle, where a big square tray holds remotes and a notepad, but nothing else.
“I’m a forensic accountant,” he says, putting his own cup on the table, so I don’t feel as bad.
“What does that mean?” I tilt my head to the side and he leans back onto the couch.
“They hire me to investigate financial inconsistencies, misappropriation of funds, and irregularities with the company, and to investigate fraud and cybercrimes,” he tries to explain it to me.
“I work for private companies also and, well, the government—but I can’t discuss that.”
“How?” My curiosity is piqued.
“A computer is not the sacred place people think it is,” he says with a smirk. “People use those things without a second thought, thinking that things can be deleted.” He folds his hands together as he sits forward. “News flash, they can’t.” He grabs his cup of coffee and takes another sip. “So I go in and find out what’s wrong, and they either change it or people get fired.” He shrugs. “But then sometimes the board of directors calls me in and asks me to see if everything is up to par and, well, no one likes when I show up.”
“How did you even get a job like that?”
“It started when I was younger.” He smiles. “I started hacking into things here and there.”
“What does that mean?” I ask him, knowing there is something more to that.
“Well, one year, I think it was Stone, he was failing math, and he asked if I could change his grade. So, I hacked the system and his forty-nine got changed to a seventy-nine.” I gasp.
“Did anyone find out?” I ask him.
“Yeah, the teacher did when his parents didn’t show up to have a meeting with them.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Obviously, I didn’t only change his grade, I changed a few, so they chalked it up to a system error.”
I shake my head. “That’s interesting.” I pick up my cup of coffee.
“I guess it is, but I’m not going to lie, I shit the bed when I found out that they called in the authorities to see if anything else was compromised. My thug life was short-lived,” he confesses, his voice soft, but then laughs. “I mean, I did hack the internet when my cousin Franny had a sex tape.”