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Maybe they don’t care.

I’m scrolling through Zillow for the third time this morning. I’m in the office today, and I should be doing any number of tasks on my to-do lists. I’ve got a full inbox, a list of people I need to call, and the barrel of the shotgun that is Austin City Limits pointing right at my forehead.

Needless to say, Zillow shouldn’t be on that to-do list. However, it’s my priority.

I’m an inch away from calling her my girlfriend in every conversation I have about her. I want to shout it from the rooftops. But I know until her plans are settled, Eleanor is going to resist that shift.

“Moving?”

I jolt in my chair and spin around to find Randy hovering behind my desk. “Jesus, dude, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says, then takes a big bite of the banana he’s holding. “But are you moving?” he asks with a mouthful.

“No.” I own my place. It’s a bit out of the way. Market prices are hellish. When I bought, I thought it might settle me down. Three years at the house and it’s still barely decorated.

“Then why are you looking at apartments?” Randy asks.

I tap the arms of my chair. “Um . . .”

“Is it your girlfriend?”

“Not girlfriend. Not yet,” I say. This isn’t the first time Randy has caught me distracted on the job over something to do with Eleanor. On more than one occasion, he’s caught me smiling like a dope as I read a text from her.

Randy rolls his eyes. “Okay. Fine.”

There aren’t consequences for me being distracted, at least not in a managerial way. This is my business. What I say goes. But that also means when I’m not working, work doesn’t get done. My team needs me at my best. It’s still a grassroots effort every fucking day.

“Her contract is ending at the end of the month, which means she’s looking for a new job and a new apartment.”

“Mm. The double whammy.”

“Right.”

Randy polishes off the last of his banana and throws the peel in my wastebasket.

“Gross,” I say.

He gives me an impish grin. Love the guy and hate the guy. “Listen, my brother is a . . .” He looks both ways and tucks his hand over his mouth to whisper, “Landlord.”

“Are we not allowed to say land—"

“Uh bup bup!” Randy cries out before I can finish the word. “I don’t like to talk about it. I went the arts route, and he went the business route. We work through it.”

I furrow my brow. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well, he was complaining to me last night about how he’s just taken over an old property, and there are a couple of tenants still there so he can’t do a full gut and remodel. So, there are a few spots there.”

My heart flutters.

“A little out of the way, but you know, it’s got a roof and electricity and all that.”

Barebones. A little out of the way. But who cares. It’s an option.

“Basically, it’s gonna be pricier than it’s worth, but I know he just wants the units filled. If you tell him I sent you, you might be able to haggle.”

“Give me his number,” I say, too anxious to modulate the insistence in my voice.

The rest of my to-do list can wait. Keeping Eleanor in Austin is my priority. Plain and simple.