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“Fantastic.” I rock back on my sneakers.
He frowns. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
He shuts his folder. “If you’re having second thoughts about selling the house…”
“No!” I raise my hand. “I’m just overwhelmed that we have so many people interested in the property.”
Yeah, overwhelmed with nausea.
His tense smile doesn’t settle my churning stomach. “If things go according to plan, Mr. Kane and you will have the property sold to the highest bidder during the open house.”
“Great.” The hollow pit in my stomach widens at the idea.
“I thought so. No way this house will last until the end of the open house.”
I suck in a breath. “Let’s start with the open house and take it from there.”
The realtor goes over the details he has planned, all while I drift in and out of the conversation with a confirmatory nod here and there.
“Would you like to be present when the buyers come check out the property?”
I give my head a hard shake. “No.”
I’d rather jump off the dock in a pair of concrete sneakers than sit through hours of people gawking at the home I love while I idly sit by, letting my heart get shredded to pieces knowing one of them will buy it from me.
Screw that.
Just because I’m selling the house to help Cal and his family doesn’t mean I have to like it.
The shrill sound of my ringtone wakes me up. I thought sleeping in Cal’s bed might help cure my insomnia, but Rowan’s call shattered my theory before I had a chance to try it.
I lie back down and answer my phone. “Hello?”
“Alana.” Rowan’s gruff voice fills my ear. “How are you?”
“Wonderful, especially now that you woke me up.”
He releases a huff of air. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think you would be asleep at nine p.m.”
Nine p.m.?!
Shit. I probably knocked out as soon as Cami did.
I grab the pillow that no longer smells as strongly of Cal and tuck it under my head. “I haven’t been getting the best sleep lately.”
“How are you doing?”
“About as good as one would expect after finding out your grandfather was hell-bent on making me suffer for some reason, although I’m not sure why. I was good to him. I even listened to his stories about Ireland like I hadn’t heard the same ones a hundred times before.”
His laugh is soft and quiet, drawing a smile from me. “He was a manipulative bastard, wasn’t he?”
“Ugh. The worst. What did he make you do?”
“Run and renovate Dreamland for six months.”
I scoff. “And here I thought we were on an even playing field.”
