Janet clutches the strand of pearls around her neck. “I’m loving this. We could put your books out here, Herbie. You could write out here.”
“But you’d have to put in a fireplace. You’d have to,” I tell them.
Janet and Herbie exchange a look before she turns back to me.
“Do you work for the realty company, Bellamy?” she asks.
“No,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I’m just here with my friend. I totally just butted into your conversation. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m so glad you did.” She spins around and takes in another full-circle view of the backyard. When she stops, she’s facing me. “Did you see the kitchen? What would you do in there?”
I think about the layout that I saw through the windows.
“I’d totally do a fancy range of some kind because it’s really the focal point of the space,” I tell her. “And I’d keep as much of the original woodwork as I could. It’s just so beautiful. You can’t get that quality anymore.”
Who am I? What do I know about the quality of woodwork?
I ignore myself and keep marching forward.
“If I could get recessed lighting, I would. And I’d love a big farmhouse sink,” I add. “They’re deep and would be handy when the grandkids come over.”
I don’t know where that came from or even if these people have grandkids. It just slipped out like the most natural thing in the world, so I roll with it.
“You know, we could use your mother’s antique range in there,” Janet tells Herbie. “It’s been in storage for so long, and it’s such a shame.”
Herbie looks over his shoulder toward the kitchen windows. “That would be a nice tribute.”
Janet and her husband pause, looking at each other. Connie starts to panic and jumps into the mix.
“I love these ideas, Bellamy,” she coos. “Do you have any for the upstairs?”
I haven’t seen the upstairs, so no. But, instead of saying that, I play along for the house’s sake.
“A house like this needs a feature wall—something moody and earthy as soon as you get to the top of the stairs,” I say, using a home makeover episode I saw once. “And lots of plants so the outside feels like it’s inside.”
Janet nods. “I love that. I can see it. I can feel it.”
Herbie crosses his arms over his chest. “Want to make an offer, Janet?”
“Could we?”
Connie springs to life. “I’m so, so glad you agree with me that this place is the perfect retirement home. Let’s head to that kitchen and get the offer going.”
Herbie wraps an arm around his wife, and they disappear inside the back door. Connie waits until they’re out of earshot before she leans toward me.
“You are good,” she says, nodding appreciatively. “Are you a realtor?”
“Me?” I laugh. “No. I literally know nothing about any of this. I just watch House Hunters.”
She laughs too. “I think you’ve missed your calling then. If you ever want to go into this business, you call me. Girl, you’re gold.”
I nod like I hear that sort of thing all the time. She flashes me a megawatt smile worth seven-percent commission before heading inside to finish wooing her clients.
“Did she just say you’re gold?” Larissa walks up to me and tries not to laugh. “I’ve officially heard it all.”
“I knew I liked Connie from the moment we met her.” I make a face. “But I do wonder about her realty skills. How hard would it be to sell a house like this? You’d think you’d have a line of buyers begging for it.”
Larissa shoves her notepad and pencil into her crossbody bag. Then she sighs. As she looks up, she says, “This place is really something, isn’t it?”
“I think I fell in love with it today.”
“I get it. It’s the kind of house I dream about. I don’t think Hollis is this type of house guy, though.”
I arch a brow. “Are we thinking about a future with him? Because, if you are, I’m totally okay with that. I would wrap that boy up and put a bow on him if I were you and not me and I was into hot football player kind of guys.”
She bumps me with her shoulder. “We’re still so new, so I don’t know. We have to finish our senior years of college, and there are a lot of things to figure out. But …” She looks at me with stars in her eyes. “I can’t imagine my life without him.”
“Awwww.”
“Stop that,” she says, swatting at my shoulder.
“What? I think it’s sweet.”
She snorts. “Bellamy Davenport, you never think anything is sweet.”
I follow her lead. We walk around the side of the house and toward the driveway.
“So, friend,” she says as we approach her car. “I’ve given you all day to bring up your night last night, and you haven’t. Now I have to prod.”
“But do you? Do you have to?”
She nods. “Tell me. What’s going on?”
“Who even told you? I didn’t tell a soul. And I can’t imagine that Coy went home and called Boone right away.” I think about it. “Boys don’t gossip like that, do they?”
She laughs. “I think they totally do gossip like that, but I really had no idea that anything happened for sure. You were just in a great mood today, so I hedged my bets.”
“You tricked me!” I gasp. “You little devil.”
“I did trick you,” she says, still laughing. “But I like it. I like this version of you.”
Yeah, well, me too.
I’ve enjoyed having a reason to smile today. It has felt good to have a layer to my life that was fun and exciting. Getting little texts from Coy throughout the day has been a sweet distraction from everything else going on in my life.
And the sex? Fucking phenomenal.
I’ve had a lot of sex with a lot of men, and I can admit that every element of last night was beyond what I—of all people—thought was possible.
I wasn’t sure if that was because it was Coy, and there’s so much history between us. I thought maybe that added an unexpected element that somehow leveled it up. Sent my orgasms flying. Sent me flying in some blissed-out state of happiness. Rejuvenated something deep inside me with every touch.
I felt loved.
But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t love. It was convenience or passion or a response to a situation with someone you know intimately.
It was that for him.
And I’m okay with that.
I think.
We make it to the front of her car and stop. We don’t open the doors or get in—just stand there looking at each other.
“We secured a peace treaty,” I tell her.
“Did you say a penis treaty?”
My jaw drops in faux surprise. “What has gotten into you?”
“Hollis’s penis, actually.”
“You’re such a child,” I tell her, laughing.
She sighs. “So what happened? What brought on the white flag?”
“He came over to see my dad. And I kind of was mid-meltdown, anyway …”
She furrows her brows. “You had a meltdown because he came to see your dad?”