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When I return from the car with a spare shirt, I almost choke. Bee’s sitting on the couch, rolling down her fishnets.
Absently, I know they weren’t covering anything. This has no right being as fucking erotic as it is, butit is.And I can’t stand here for another second and pretend it isn’t affecting me.
On the upside, I’m not stressed about the loan anymore.
I drop the shirt on the coffee table, eyes on the floor. “Just gonna jump in the shower. That’s for you.”
Lonny Clarke is a kind-looking man. He has the sort of face that keeps smiling even when his mouth isn’t. Dark red hair, still pretty thick even though he has a good decade on me, and a belly that speaks of good meals with people he loves.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wolfe.”
Fuck, I really wish he’d call me Sebastian. Hearing my father’s name only ever puts me in a bad mood.
“You too, Lonny. I’m hoping you have good news for me.”
Bee sits quietly beside me, having refused to wait in the car. The fishnets are gone, but she’s got my Henley half-tucked into her skirt, and holy fuck, this combination might be worse. Part of me wishes my mom still wrote myname on the tags of my clothes. It would mean having my brand on her right now.
Goddamn, am I in trouble.
Even staring at Lonny, I can see her bare knees only inches away, and my hand aches from being clenched.
“You know I’m doing everything I can to make this happen,” he says.
It’s been over a month since I handed over every scrap of documentation he could possibly want and then some. Anyone close to me knows how important getting this house is, and it’s starting to feel like it’s now or never.
The years I spent fucking around in my twenties didn’t prepare me for waking up at thirty andfinding out. That was six years ago. I’ve spent every minute since working my ass off to get to this moment. No life, no dating, just saving. I want—no, Ineed—to be the kind of provider my father never was. So yes, I’m a little desperate.
Patience isn’t a trait I was born with. When I know what I want, I go after it with the bullheaded force of a man with nothing to lose. But I’ve worked damn hard over the last thirty-six years to perfect my poker face. And I’ve learned the value of waiting. So instead of cutting to the chase and saving us both the next twenty minutes of awkward small talk like I want to, I smile and nod back and pray that I’m not about to have my hopes crushed while Bee watches on.
Lonny clicks his mouse a few times, staring intently at his computer screen. He sighs. Then comes a pacifying head nod, which I’ve learned is habit, a space filler, the way “um” is for other people. I’ve tried deciphering thebobble-nod, but it’s hopeless. It could mean anything. Good news. Bad news. An anxiety attack.
I steady myself.
“Did you know that your dad gave me my first job? I learned a lot from him. He’s a great man.”
“Mm-hmm.” That’s what everybody says. Because to them, Jonathon Wolfeisa great man. Salesman extraordinaire. Charming, calculated, and a shark in a negotiation. Everyone wants him on their side.
Everyone except me.
“Guess being the son of Jonathon Wolfe is worth something.”
To them, he’s a leader, a strategist.
No one sees the man underneath. The absent father. The angry husband.
Which is why I bite back my real thoughts with a smile and a nod each time he comes up in conversation. There’s no use trying to change anyone’s mind. And as much as it fucking pains me to do it, because I haven’t wanted a thing from that man in decades, this connection might actually help me get this house. It’s the least he can do.
“Now, I’ve had a chance to crunch the numbers. I tried on this one, I really did. Any son of Jonathon’s is worth the extra effort, in my opinion. But I’m afraid I have good news and bad news.” He shuffles the papers on the desk, looking between Bee and me. “Now, don’t take this as a roadblock, because you have options.”
Sure, I do. Probably multiple, and every one of them benefits the bank and sets me back another ten, twenty years of repayments. Vultures.
“Just tell me.”
“The bad news is that with the deposit you have and your current income, you can’t get approved for the amount you’d need for the house. But,” he emphasizes, with a gleeful look at Bee, which sets my shoulders back. “The good news is that if you were to split the loan with your partner, and all the checks came back clear, I’m positive we could make it work. But you’d need to act quick.”
Shit. It might be the answer I’ve been dreading—expecting, but dreading—but it still hurts like hell to hear it. Ten years of saving, and it still isn’t enough. With the way house prices are rocketing up, it might never be.
Maybe I should have settled down in my twenties like my parents. But married with a baby at twenty-one and divorced by thirty was never part of my life plan. Of course, right now, my life plan is looking like a life joke.
