I nod. “A few actually.”
“I bet I could get some interested buyers for you if you had some preliminary photos taken,” Banks offers.
I’m sure he probably knows plenty of buyers who could write an all-cash offer to me right now. Mr. Akana practically has dollar signs sparkling in his eyes. He rubs his hands together.
“We can get the photos started first thing tomorrow morning. My wife is an interior decorator, so she’ll be ready to roll with the staging as soon as the work is done.”
I look back at Banks. “I appreciate it, man.” I turn to Mr. Akana. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want Summer to know about this, all right?”
He blinks, glancing over at her.
I pat him on the shoulder. “Let’s talk on Monday. I have to deliver this cupcake.”
It takes me the rest of the weekend and all of Monday to work through the budget and invoices for the house to calculate how much we lost from the storm damage. I’m sitting at a tiny little bistro table in Tide and Table with my laptop on Tuesday morning.
I miss having a desk. As much as I love spending time with Summer, I need a more permanent option to get work done. Her studio is too small, and when I sit outside, I get distracted by her doing yoga on the beach. When I try to take phone calls, there’s always a saw or a drill making it hard for me to hear.
After I ran the numbers, it looks like we lost almost fiftythousand dollars, which puts us almost seventy-five thousand over our designated fund for the renovation.
I rub my fingers through my hair, wondering how we can even finish at this rate, much less add an outdoor kitchen. I don’t want Summer to know about the setback. She’s been blissfully happy for the last few days, and I don’t want her to feel the stress of this.
After losing her mom and going through a breakup, she deserves some time to be carefree without the burden of this budget on her shoulders.
I pack up my laptop and put it in my leather messenger bag. As I walk out of the coffee shop, I dial Henry’s cell, pressing the phone to my ear.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, you bastard. How’s the vacation?”
“I’m not on vacation, dick.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m helping Summer finish the house.”
“Yeah, if I had a stepsister as hot as Summer, I’d help her finish… the housetoo.”
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, clenching my teeth. “Listen, I called you because I need you to trade in some stocks from my personal account and wire me a hundred thousand dollars.”
The line goes silent.
For me to withdraw that much cash is highly unusual. For Henry, it would be nothing. We’re both comfortably in the millionaire status, but I’m a saver and investor. Henry is a spender. He doesn’t care about reaching billionaire status by thirty-five like I do. He has multiple homes, a yacht, and a garage full of cars he never drives.
I have one penthouse apartment, two cars, and the house inCoconut Beach. Every other cent to my name is invested, making me millions a year in interest.
“Are you buying her a ring?” he finally says. “I’d better be invited to the wedding.”
“What are you talking about?” I keep walking down the street, the sun beating down on me. “I need it for the house.”
“Shit, you went that far out of the budget? You’ve never fucked up that bad on an investment.”
I can hear him typing on his keyboard.
“Just do it.” I hang up the phone.
Henry and I are the same brand of asshole when it comes to business. Neither of us requires pleasantries or small talk. We’re short and to the point, especially with each other, which is how we’ve built a successful empire in the last ten years.
The comment about the ring has my head spinning as I approach the beach house. I haven’t even thought about a ring or proposing.
Is she ready for that?
