Page 16 of Forgotten Dreams
I hang up the phone and look at it for a whole two minutes before I put it down beside me on the couch. My heart races when I close my eyes and see him standing in front of me wearing his fucking sunglasses, looking like he’s a GQ fucking model instead of a contractor. Sure, he was wearing worn jeans and a gray T-shirt that molded to him with his steel-toed boots. His dark brown hair pushed back, and you could see where his fingers went into said hair. My eyes went to the tattoos on his arms, trying not to ogle them too much while telling myself that he’s off-limits. He’s also way too good-looking to start anything with. You just know a guy that good-looking must have a trail of broken hearts behind him. I have enough shit going on in my life. I don’t need to take on Caleb Walker.
I pick my phone back up when I hear a ping coming from it and see I have an email from CW Construction. I open it up and see he just sent it to me.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Quote
Sierra,
As per our telephone conversation, here is the quote. Please let me know if you need to discuss anything further.
I’ve also attached a couple of pictures I took today of before and after.
Caleb
I open the attachment and cringe when I see how much it’s going to cost me to fix up the old house. Then I thank my grandfather for leaving me an inheritance substantial enough to cover the cost of the house and the renovations, and I’ll still have some left over. It’s a good thing my investments are paying off.
I open the pictures, and my eyes almost bug out of my head when I see how much work they did in one day. I put the phone down before getting up and heading to the kitchen, seeing the boxes that I’ve already started to pack. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.
My alarm goes off at six, but I’m already making coffee in the kitchen. The nerves in my stomach are going crazy since I know today is going to be a rough day for me. I get dressed in sweatpants and a sweater before going over to my childhood home.
Getting out and walking up the steps, I take a deep breath before I ring the doorbell. I’ve never rung the doorbell before, but walking in to me seems strange. The door is pulled open by my father, who is already dressed for the day in slacks and a button-down shirt. “Sierra,” he says, shocked, “why on earth are you ringing the doorbell?” He moves away from the door, giving me access to the house.
I step in at the same time he comes to kiss my cheek, and my mother peeks her head out from around the corner where she is in the kitchen. “Who is it?” she asks, and then her eyes light up when she sees me. “Sierra.” Her voice is filled with happiness. “I didn’t know you were coming over this morning.” She comes to me wearing her long gray cashmere robe. She opens her arms to give me a hug, and I walk over to her, hugging her, closing my eyes tight as my stomach clenches with nerves. Only when she’s let me go does she look at me. “Did you forget your key?”
“Yeah,” I lie to her, but when I look over my shoulder at my father, he puts his hands in his pockets and smiles tightly at the lie he knows I just told, but he doesn’t call me out on it.
“Come in, come in,” she invites me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and walking me more into the house. “I was just making breakfast.” She lets go of me as she walks toward the kitchen, and I follow her. “Do you want pancakes or waffles?” she asks me of my go-to breakfast when I’m at home.
“I think I’ll just have coffee,” I tell her, too nervous to eat anything. I feel like I’m going to vomit and the last thing I need is to put food in my stomach. I am so nervous, almost like I’m a kid who knows that I have a bad report card coming in and I have to break it to my parents how bad it’s going to be.
She turns, and I can see the worry on her face now. “Is everything all right?”
I nod. “Yes, everything is fine, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you guys.” Her hand comes up to close the top of her robe, and I can see her fisting her hand so tight her knuckles are going to turn white soon.
“Oh,” she says, and my father walks past me and heads to the coffee machine. “Okay.” She pretends that she’s fine. I walk over to the coffee machine and make myself coffee. Meanwhile, my father tries to pretend nothing is happening as he goes about making himself two pieces of toast, and my mother goes to the fridge to grab her tub of yogurt and granola that she usually has for breakfast. “I have fruit already cut up.” She puts the fruit down on the counter as my father butters his toast and looks over at her.
“I’ll have some of that,” I say to try to get her to relax, knowing what I’m going to tell her is probably going to kill her. Also knowing I have no choice but to do what I need to do.
It takes about ten minutes for us to all sit at the table in the kitchen. My mother nervously eats the parfait she created even though she barely puts anything on her spoon. “Okay, so what is this meeting about?” She finally gives in, not willing to have another minute go by.
I pick up my cup of coffee to take a sip, since my mouth feels suddenly dry. “There are a couple of things, actually,” I say, putting my mug down. “The first thing is, which is kind of the biggest thing.” I take a deep inhale before I say the word. “I’m going to be moving.” The minute I say the words, the gasp from my mother fills the room and I look over to see her holding her chest, like she was just stabbed in the heart. “I think it’s a good idea to just get away for a little while.” I try to soften the blow, but my father reaches out and puts his hand on top of my mother’s.
“That sounds like it will do you good,” my father responds, and I look over at him, not able to gauge his look at me. “Where do you think you’ll be going?”
“I bought a house in Montgavin,” I state, and now it’s my father’s turn to look shocked.
“You bought a house?” He sits up straight. “Without consulting us?”
“It’s a fixer-upper house, and I got it for under market price. I had someone go out there and do an evaluation before I even signed the papers.” His eyebrows go up since I would have normally gone to him for all of this, but I couldn’t this time. “It happened really fast.” At least that is the truth; it really did snowball. The offer was accepted in twenty-five minutes without a counter. The house was in a trust from their grandparents, and ten people wanted the sale to close. None of them wanted the house.
“A fixer-upper.” He shakes his head. “Do you know how much work that is going to be and going to cost? You didn’t even think about it for even one second, you flew by the seat of your pants, and then in a month or two, you will regret it, and then what?” His voice goes higher as the sentence goes on.
I try not to let his words sting. “Then I’ll have a house I can turn around and sell for profit.” I leave out that I will have to wait for the construction to be finished before I do all this, but he doesn’t need to know all the details. I don’t think he would be too happy about it anyway.
“What are you going to do about the house you have here?” He lets go of my mother’s hand to put his on the table, and I can see his index finger tapping the table nervously.
