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“I’d fucking buy the building!” I blurt.
A slow grin tilts his lips. “So buy it.”
“She won’t let me.”
“Do you really need her permission? The building is going to sell. That’s a prime area in the heart of downtown. It might as well be you.”
“Fuck me! Where were you two weeks ago?”
He laughs. “That’s why I’m here for you. You need me on this, or any of us for that matter, let me know.”
“She’s going to be pissed,” I tell him.
“Maybe. She’s also going to be relieved. She’s going to insist on paying you, and blah, blah, blah, but that’s minor details you two can fight or fuck about later.” He smirks. “But at least you know she has her home and her livelihood. Put you both out of your misery and just buy the fucking building.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he’s the CEO,” I say in a fake as hell announcer voice.
“Nah, just the oldest. Like I said. You’re too close to this. You’re thinking with your heart and not your head. Not that I can blame you. I’d be the same way if it were Sawyer.”
“Thanks, brother.” I stand, walking around my desk to hug him.
“Who died?” Marshall asks, snacking on a bag of pretzels that look as if they came from the vending machine in our breakroom.
“No one died. Royce just talked me off the ledge.”
Marshall nods. “You good? Need anything?”
“Nah, I’m all good for now. I’ve got some calls to make.”
“You know where to find us if you need us.” Royce pats me on the back and walks out of my office. I hear him and Marshall talking about a new marketing campaign for the summer and smile. For as much shit as we give each other, I know that they’re all there for me if I need them. And today, Royce came in strong.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it from that angle. It’s going to sell. It might as well be me. That eliminates my stress from worrying about her, and she’ll know that her bakery can stay open. It’s a win-win. Sure, she’s going to be pissed at first, but I’m confident she’ll get over it once she realizes this is the best-case scenario for both of us.
Pulling up the realtor site from the paper Aurora showed me, I find their number and call them while pulling up the listing. Ten minutes later, I’ve put in a cash offer. The agent assures me it’s as much as a done deal and will call me back after promising to keep my identity from the current tenants—namely, my girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
That needs to change too. I’ve got some work to do, but first things first. Get through this sale, get her money back. No way will I get her to agree to marry with that hanging over her head. I’m just going to have to improvise. Grabbing my phone, I text my friend Tommy.
Me: It’s that time again.
Tommy: Been a while.
Me: Yeah. You got time? It will be quick.
Tommy: The next three hours are open. I’ll block them out for you.
Me: I’m on my way.
Closing down my computer, I go in search of Royce and find Owen in his office. “Hey,” I say, stepping into his office.
“You good?” Royce asks.
“Yeah. Put in a cash offer. It’s as good as done.”
“Good. Better?”
“Getting there.” I smile. “I’m heading out for the day.”
“What’s up?” Owen says.
“I’m more than likely going to have to grovel when she finds out. I need to be prepared.”
He laughs. “I hear ya. Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks.” I direct that at both of them. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into Tommy’s shop. “Grant Riggins.” He walks out from around the counter and offers me his hand. “What’s up, my man?”
“Needed a little therapy,” I tell him.
“You know what you want?”
“Yeah. I need a butterfly.”
“A butterfly? You going soft on me, Riggins?”
“Maybe.” I laugh. “I need my girl's name wove into the design.”
He whistles. “That’s some heavy shit, Riggins. You know this is forever, right?” he asks.
“I’m well aware.”
“And if this doesn’t work out.”
“It’s going to work out.”
He nods. “Let me draw something up. Come on back.” He turns toward his room and sits down at the small sketch table. “So, who is she?”
“My future wife.”
He chuckles. “Does she know that?”
“Not yet.” I grin.
“And the butterfly?”
“Fuck, man, can’t you just do it and not ask questions?”
“Nope.”
“She says I give her butterflies.” I expect him to give me shit.
“I like it.” He gets busy drawing, and I take the time to look at the new work he has showcased on his walls. “You are one talented fucker,” I tell him.
“I know.” He smirks. “Take a look at this.” He motions me over. “I was thinking about putting her name down the center of the body.”
