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“You… you got rid of Mrs. Jonsdottir?”
She followed, but almost tripped on a rise in the concrete where it had buckled a little over the years. That would have to be fixed.
“I didn’t getridof her. I just moved her along with a generous incentive. She wanted to be with her family, and you wanted the house.”
“How did you know about her family?” she asked, still confused.
“I met with her on Friday.”
Since she was standing on the wraparound front porch like she’d been hit on the head with a fly ball, I took the keys back and opened the front door.
When it swung open, the hinges squeaked. Those needed some oil.
Mallory stepped inside.
“It’s empty.”
“We’ll move your things in tomorrow.”
She walked around the small living room, stared at the walls, the wood floors, everything. Then back at me.
“You bought Mrs. Jonsdottir’s house for me.”
I smiled, eager to christen every room in the place. I went over to her, cupped her face and kissed her. “Yes.”
She stepped back, looked at me with equal parts horror and anger. Like one of those Disney villains with horns and smoke coming out of their heads.
“YOU BOUGHT MRS. JONSDOTTIR’S HOUSE FOR ME?” she shouted, her voice echoing off the bare walls.
Oh shit. Clearly, I’d done something wrong. I just had no fucking clue what it might be.
41
MALLORY
“Yes,”he repeated, but suddenly not looking quite as confident as he had a few moments ago.
“Why?” I asked, livid. He bought my house. For me.Forme. He didn’t let me do it. Hetookthat from me. I was also mad at Mrs. Jonsdottir. She’d promisedmethe house, that she’d reach out to me before anyone else when she finally decided to sell. I’d been saving and even met with Mav’s fancy financial planner to grow that nest egg. But no, a huge bank account instead of my shaky stash of cash clearly wasn’t much of a debate for her.
“Because you wanted it, and you were working so hard to save for it. The deed’s in your name.”
I stared at him. Blinked. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to strangle him or just walk away. After the past two weeks or so, he hadn’t learned a thing about me besides how to get me to come.
Which made me feel like a whore. Not even a high-class call girl like Annie and Trixie.
He was gifting me a fucking house for being a good lay.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” he said, setting his hands on my shoulders.
I shrugged them off.
“Of course, you don’t.” He was a billionaire. He could buy me the entire town if he wanted. Mrs. Jonsdottir’s little house was like pocket change for him. He talked to the woman on Friday, had the cash transferred, the house emptied of her belongings and shipped out of state–along with the woman herself–within forty-eight hours.
“What does that mean?”
I laughed, but it was only the start of tears.
“Whoa, why are you crying?”
