My flat is in the Stockbridge area of the city, so it takes a while for us to get there, battling among the morning commuters. By the time we arrive at North East Circus Place I almost don’t want to wake Kayla, she’s sleeping so deeply.
“Hey,” I whisper to her while the cabbie slides open the door and pulls our luggage out. “We’re here.” I remove my arm and shake her a bit. It takes forever for her to open her eyes, but when she does, she’s frowning in confusion. Once she seems to recognize me, she smiles.
“Wow,” she says, her voice croaking. “I was deep under.”
“As soon as I get you inside, I’ll put you to bed,” I tell her, unbuckling our seatbelts and helping her out of the cab. She leans against it, unsteady, while I pay the driver, and stares up at the building.
“Is this all yours?” she asks.
I take her arm and pull her away from the cab before it drives away.
“Only the first floor,” I tell her. “Although that’s what you would call the second floor in America.” She doesn’t seem to hear me—she’s just blinking in awe.
I guess it does look a lot different than what she’s used to. The whole row of stone buildings take up a block as one attached complex. Though the false balconies and wrought iron details are similar to the ones I’ve seen in San Francisco, it’s the stone that sets it apart. And the fact that it was built two hundred years ago.
“It used to be one big townhouse back in the day,” I tell her, taking our luggage and Emily’s crate to the white-painted door. I nod at the garden and apartments set below on either side of the bridge-like walkway. “A nice couple with a baby rents the bottom and ground floor flats. I have the first floor. The top of the building is owned by an older couple, but they’re rarely in the city.”
“So you can just own different floors of the same house?” she asks.
I nod. “It’s common here.”
She looks behind her at the green trees of the park across the street, their leaves shining with morning dew.
“That’s Circus Place,” I point out. “One of the places I take Lionel or whichever dog I’m fostering at the moment. A couple of blocks down is the Queen Street Gardens. The neighborhood is very dog friendly and it’s close to Princes Street, the castle, and anywhere else you’ll want to go in the city.”
“Is Lionel upstairs?” she asks as I stick the key in the door.
I shake my head. “Amara has him. She’ll bring him by later. But first, let’s deal with you.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, stifling a yawn.
I leave the luggage at the bottom of the stairs and take Emily’s crate and Kayla up to the first floor.
“I can’t believe this would have been one big house,” she says, admiring the royal blue carpet on the stairs and the teak wood trim on the walls.
“People had a lot of money back in the day,” I tell her, bringing her to the front door on the landing. “And people with money had servants to house. Probably a mistress and a bastard child too.”
She raises her brows. “So where do you keep your mistress?”
“You’re the mistress, the wife, the girlfriend, the everything.” It takes me a moment to realize I’ve said something that was probably a bit much, but the prettiest pink flush spreads to her cheeks. I can’t open the door fast enough.
I place Emily in the hall, closing the door behind us, and grab Kayla’s hand. “Quick tour while I get Emily some water and food.”
The hallway off the stairs has doors leading to the front and rear of the flat. At the rear is the kitchen and the dining room with shuttered floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the private walled garden that I share with the other residents.
“Holy shit.” Kayla whirls around, taking it all in. “This room is huge. These are the highest ceilings I’ve ever seen.”