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“The agent founda piece of property for us. It’s honestly perfect and everything we hoped for.” Bea pushes the listing across the table to me, and I stare at a gorgeous perfectly trimmed and maintained lawn with a massive old house that has a ridiculous amount of character and charm. It’s everything we ever wanted and hoped for in Colorado for half the price we could have gotten there.
“Wow,” I whisper as I page through the pictures.
“Ten rooms. Seven bathrooms. A huge caterer’s kitchen. A sunroom that would make a perfect yoga studio. A wraparound balcony where we could have art classes in the summer. A horse barn and two small cottages so we could have some of the staff live on-site.” Bea starts rattling off our dream list.
“It’s… perfect.”
“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Bea eyes me carefully.
Because I think I’m falling for Quentin all over again. Or maybe I never stopped being in love with him. I’m not sure yet, but I definitely feel the heavy weight of guilt fall over me as I stare at page after page of perfection. The feeling of wanting to say no to all of this is my gut reaction, knowing that it’s not even remotely logical. Bea and I have been planning this for over a year. We’ve poured blood, sweat, and tears into this dream, and I can’t abandon her now when we have the perfect property sitting right in front of us just because I slept with him. But the idea of leaving him hurts.
“I just can’t believe it.”
“The price tag is reasonable though, right?”
“Right. Two million isn’t hateful. How much are they estimating in renovations?” I look up at her and something about her demeanor isn’t quite right either. But it’s probably because she can sense that something’s off with me—the way best friends always can.
“Another quarter to a half million. It depends on what we want to do.”
“Again, not terrible considering what we were facing in Colorado.”
“Exactly. And this one has access to city water and its own well. No water concerns. No nearby forest fires in recent history. All the things we want. I honestly can’t believe it’s real.”
“Me either.”
“But it’s so soon. We thought we would have more time to come up with the financing.”
“Yeah, I definitely don’t have a million plus sitting around right now.”
“Me either. And some of our investors have fallen through now.”
“Right. I haven’t spoken with A.J. recently, but… I can’t imagine he’ll want to invest anymore either. The way that’ll look to his ex-wife if he puts that kind of money in for me.”
“And we know Xander and Tobias are out since they’ve been putting all that money into the museum in Seattle.”
“Right.”
“We’re still agreed that we’re not asking the parents?” Bea flashes a look of uncertainty.
“Not in this life or the next one.”
“So… thoughts on new investors?”
“I’ll have to think about it. East and Wren are a no considering they just put all that money into West Field. I might be able to ask a couple of other people. If things work out with Quentin, I may get a nice bonus but not enough to put a dent in this. You have any leads?”
“Not many.”
“How fast do they think it’ll sell?”
“The agent said that properties of this size and price usually need the right buyer to come along. They usually tell the sellers to expect sixty to ninety days on the market, but it could go at any time. Obviously, she said the faster the better.”
“Well… crud.” I stare down at what could be the perfect PR retreat. The kind of place I would love to go if I were trying to escape the media and the limelight to reset. “It really is perfect.”
“I know a quarterback who just came into a very nice signing bonus and is very fond of one of the potential owners,” Bea muses out loud.
I give her a surly look. “No way am I asking him for money. Especially not after everything.”
“Everything?” Her eyes go bright with interest.
