Lucy entered the impressive lobby of the inn, and immediately fell in love with the Wanderer's comfortable yet elegant atmosphere. She felt like she'd stepped into a charming Parisian boutique hotel. It was stylish but without pretension. Just Quinn's style.

She walked up to the front desk and was greeted by a friendly, impeccably dressed concierge. "Welcome to the Wanderer, Mrs. Allen," he said, sliding the key card across to her. She pocketed it with an amused smile.

"Thanks. And it's Ms. McLean," she corrected him.

When she looked up, a flush had coloured his cheeks and he looked pained. "Oh, I am so sorry! When Mr. Allen called, I could have sworn he said his wife would be joining him."

His wife?

Flushed with pleasure, Lucy reassured him. "Oh, it's fine! He is my..." She searched for the right word. "He's my boyfriend, so easy mistake to make." 'Boyfriend' seemed so high school. Partner? Lover? Ick. No term seemed to quite sum up what Quinn meant to her. He was her everything — not that she would ever describe him that way to the hotel concierge.

He looked relieved. Despite her protests, he said he would send a complimentary bottle of champagne and fresh strawberries to the room. I like this place already.

Lucy made her way to the fifth floor, unlocked the heavy door and sighed as it snapped closed behind her. The room was large and lavish, dominated by a temptingly comfortable king-sized bed and a large, claw-foot tub right in the bedroom. Quinn would love that, even though it wasn't as big as his prized bathtub back home.

Smack in the middle of the bed was a beautifully wrapped box.

Excited, she dropped her bags and kicked off her shoes, her bare feet sinking into the plush, silky carpet. She crossed the room and picked up the present, shook it slightly then put it down. She read the tag. "You deserve something real — xx, Q"

This man.

It didn't matter what was in the box, he'd already made her feel wonderful. She snapped off the tag with the sweet note written in his messy scrawl and put it aside. She'd keep it, a reminder of that moment, and how special she felt without having seen the present.

She texted him. "OK, I'm ready. But I feel silly doing this."

Her phone chimed immediately, and she accepted the video chat. Quinn's handsome face filled the screen. "I planned on being there to see the look on your face, so this is the next best thing," he said.

"Alright," she said laughing, looking around for a place to position the phone so he could see, and propping it up on the dresser. "Why didn't you just wait and give it to me later?" She climbed onto the bed next to the present.

"I took off in such a hurry, I forgot to hide it," he said, with a sheepish look. "Go on. Open it."

"Alright, alright. Opening," she said, lifting the lid.

She knew what it was immediately. She gasped, pulling the bag slowly from the silky tissue paper and examining it with wonder. "A real Prada!" She could scarcely believe it. The right size, colour — and he'd had her initials engraved on it in gold.

She hugged it to herself. "It is absolutely perfect. You are perfect." She put the bag down and went to the phone so she could see him. "I wish you were here."

"Me too. So, you like it?"

"Like isn't the word." Embarrassed, she realized she had tears in her eyes. It wasn't that the present was expensive. It was the time and trouble he took to get it and the fact that he listened — really listened to her.

"Oh, don't do that," he said, his voice soft. "It's just a little gift. You were so mad about your fake one."

"I didn't even get a year out of it. You'd think they'd put more craftsmanship into their fake purses," she said, smiling.

Quinn laughed. "I can't believe you sewed the strap back on the Frauda rather than throw it out. Now you've got the real deal."

"I do indeed," she said, gazing at him. "I love you, Quinn. I don't say it enough, but I do. And not just because you give me nice things." Like this beautiful life we're creating for ourselves.

The warmth in his eyes made her melt. "I love you, Lucy. I can't wait to see you tonight. I'm so glad you're here."

She smiled and gave him a wave before ending the call. She felt like she might never stop smiling. She was in her favourite city with the man she loved, heading for an afternoon of shopping and then off to a fairy tale ball. After a hard year, things were definitely turning around.

With a tiny shriek of glee, she dumped out the contents of her old bag on the bed and put her wallet and phone into her new, luxurious present. She stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that with the bag on her arm. It was gorgeous, and she felt like a queen.

Lucy took all the junk off the bed and said goodbye to her old bag, stuffing it into the garbage can. She paused, pulling it back out again. Quinn's favourite leather jacket was stuffed into the trash. She pulled it out, noticing a huge rip in the arm. Examining it more closely, she saw what looked to be flecks of blood.

What the hell?

She went to text him, then stopped. He was run off his feet that afternoon and barely had time for the video chat. She decided to speak to him later to solve the mystery. What happened to the jacket? Did he hurt himself?

He usually told her everything. Was he keeping things from her?

A knock at the door dragged her out of her reverie. She stuffed the jacket and the old purse back into the trash can. As promised, the concierge from the front desk came in with champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries, to her delight.

She pushed dark questions aside as she thanked him and saw him out. There was a logical explanation for the jacket, she just hoped that Quinn didn't injure himself in a serious way. He would have told her if he did. Everything was fine. More than fine, in fact.

Feeling decadent, she popped the bottle and poured herself a glass as she drew a bath. The tang of the bubbly was crisp and delicious. It tasted like New Year's Eve, sun-soaked holidays, noisy celebrations and quiet romantic evenings. All of the best things in life, stirred together into one perfect, fizzy elixir.

You deserve something real.

He was the sweetest man. She undressed and put on a silk robe that was hanging on the back of the door. She re-read the tag before folding it into a small, zippered pocket on the inside of her new Prada. When she was having a bad day or feeling insecure, she would take it out and remember how it felt in that exact moment — to be spoiled. To be loved.

She put her expensive present on an antique side-table in the bathroom so she could admire it, thinking back to the check-in and the concierge's charming mistake. Did Quinn really call her his wife?

Lucy Allen: It had a nice ring to it. She was terrified of getting married, but every once in a while, it crossed her mind. She wasn't sure how Quinn felt about it, but he did make it clear he wanted them to take the next step and move in together. But marriage?

Her gut instinct was a flash of wild joy. She tingled at the thought of it, her mind drifting to a perfect, sunny day in Italy or maybe the south of France. She saw herself in a retro-inspired, chic gown and Quinn looking dashing and handsome in a tux, waiting for her with that intense, sapphire gaze and the warm smile that made her weak in the knees. She always assumed she'd keep her maiden name if she ever got married, but Lucy Allen just sounded right. And the events of the past year hadn't exactly instilled a lot of pride in her family name.

She heard the whispers around town, especially in the first few days after it all came out about what her Dad did. There's Lucy McLean. Did you hear about her father? He burned the family restaurant down for the insurance money, and almost killed her! Then he tried to shoot himself and died of a heart attack weeks later...

She grabbed a bottle of the hotel bubble bath and poured a dollop under the running water. She wrinkled her nose when the overpowering scent rose from the water in a cloud of steam. Quinn probably hates this stuff, she thought. Reminded, she went back to the bed, grabbed her suitcase and unzipped it. She took out a bottle of Quinn's favourite organic bubble bath and put it on the table near the tub for him, before stripping and sinking into the perfumy bubbles with a sigh.

Tall and generously muscled, Quinn was a man who also enjoyed a good bubble bath from time to time and didn't care who knew. He didn't subscribe to outdated and toxic ideas about what it was to be a man. He was a former bouncer who could knock anyone on their ass if he had to, but he was caring, thoughtful. He wasn't afraid to show a softer side and it only made him sexier.

She was crazy, stupidly in love with him. She had gotten things so wrong with Trent, she didn't trust her own instincts about men. But she knew how she felt about Quinn. For once in her life, she finally had gotten it right.

After a rough start and a terrible year, they found themselves in a kind of magic bubble. She had to keep things the way they were so nothing could touch them. She had to keep things perfect. At the very least, she had to try.