Standing in this tiny home, a warm rush floods my veins. This is my dream. I have to make it happen. If I lose this house, it could be months or even years before I find something else this perfect.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I turn to him, my cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Honestly, it's perfect.”
“The owners heard your story, and they were moved by it. They want to sell it to you. And truthfully, I want that too. But if you don’t commit soon, we’ll have to consider other offers.”
“I’ll buy it,” I rush out, panic rising at the thought of losing this opportunity.
“When?” he presses. “I need to give the owners a deadline.”
“Thirty days, maximum,” I say. I only have fifty-five thousand saved. It’s not enough. I need another fifty thousand for the down payment, and I have no clue how I’ll get the rest within a few weeks.
He nods. “That’ll work.”
As we walk out, my smile drops, the wheels spinning in my head, trying to figure out some options to get fast cash. But I take one last look at the house, soaking in every detail. I’ll figure out the money somehow. For now, I just want to hold on to this feeling, this tiny bubble of hope, and not let it pop.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Hugh says as we part ways.
“Thanks for showing me around. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Leaving Hugh behind, I walk slowly to the sidewalk where I call a ride. A light warm breeze sweeps through, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I have to find a way to make this place mine. I haven’t smiled this much since the day I found out I was going to be adopted.
The ride home in the rideshare is a blur, my thoughts alternating between ideas to raise money and visions of foster siblings laughing together in that living room. I imagine hanging string lights in the backyard, maybe even hosting holiday gatherings. I need this house to work out.
Once I get back to the city, I’m heading to an empty house. My brother won’t be back until late, so I have the place to myself. The quiet is a glimpse of what’s coming.
Inside, I turn on the TV for background noise, deciding to have breakfast for dinner. As I put bread in the toaster, the doorbell rings, cutting through the quiet.
Who is that? And, more importantly, what do they want? I check through the peephole. My breath catches. Oliver. Still in that infuriating come-fuck-me navy suit.
I hesitate, then open the door just enough to speak through the gap. “He’s not home,” I say flatly, and before he can respond, I try to shut the door in his face. But his hand shoots out, catching it before it closes.
“That’s okay. I’m not here to see Declan. I’m here to see you.”
Chapter 7
Oliver
Icatchthedoorbefore it slams in my face, my heart pounding harder than I’d like to admit.
She opens her mouth, then closes it, before slamming the door behind me.
“Is there a problem?”
“No. Just go sit down,” she says, as the toaster pops.
“What’s for dinner?” I tease, noticing she’s changed from jeans into baggy light gray sweats, hair in a messy ponytail. The casual look suits her; she seems softer somehow. She glances up at me, eyes lingering a beat too long, like she’s reading my thoughts.
“I’m making myself some toast. You can make your own or order something.”
I bite back a smile at her bluntness. I should probably feel bad about invading her space, but there’s something about the way her eyes flicker to mine that makes me think maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t mind as much as she pretends to.
She moves to the counter in front of me and grabs the peanut butter.
“No jelly?” I ask.
“No. I prefer it without. Now, go sit down and stop watching me,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. I lean against the counter, unable to tear my eyes away despite her command. I spot paint smudges on her hand as she spreads the smooth peanut butter over the toast and takes a big bite, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. I wonder if she even knows she does that. The little moment makes my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Maybe I should’ve thought this through more before showing up. Being alone with her feels more dangerous than I anticipated.
