“Cool, just wanted to know so I can figure out what to wear,” she murmurs, and I hear Luka in the background say something to her that I can’t make out.
“Crap, you’re home with Luka. I totally forgot it’s Sunday.”
“I am, but he’s topped up. He’ll be fine for a few hours. Where are we meeting?” she asks, and I can hear Luka laughing about never being topped up.
“The Coffee Hut, and bring your realtor stuff with you.”
“My realtor stuff?” she questions, sounding confused.
“Just bring it!” I cry.
“Okay, but can I ask what the hell is going on and why you sound so freaked?”
“I’ll explain when I see you. Meet me in fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” she hisses, “Crap, woman, can I have at least thirty minutes? I haven’t even showered.”
“Fine, thirty.” I hang up and head for the door.
“Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?” Michelle asks as soon as she takes the seat across from me, and I scoot the coffee I got her to her side of the table.
“I want to buy a house.”
“Um…” Her brow furrows. “You just bought your house. Are you looking for an investment property?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee before setting her laptop on the table and turning it on.
“No, I want to buy Dillon’s house,” I admit, and her head snaps up to me.
“What? Why?”
“You know Dillon put his house on the market. He loves his house, and I don’t want him to give that up because of me, so I’m going to buy it.”
Leaning back, she crosses her arms over her chest and studies me. “What the hell is really going on? You hate his house.”
“I don’t hate it, not exactly anyways.” I shrug, and her eyes narrow. “It’ll grow on me,” I gripe, and her eyebrows lower.
“Ashlyn.”
“Fine, I think Dillon and I are fighting.” I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m pretty sure we’re fighting; I just still have no idea why.
“You think you’re fighting?”
“Maybe not fighting-fighting, but I told him we’re not in love and he got pissed and stormed out, but not before tossing a grenade at me. I think his words were, ‘I just found out the woman I’m in love with isn’t in love with me.’”
“Oh,” she sighs, and slouches forward on the chair.
“Yeah.”
“Buying his house isn’t going to fix this.”
“I’m not stupid, Michelle. I know buying his house isn’t going to fix anything, but I want him to know I believe in us as much as he does.”
“You’re in love with him.” It’s a statement, but I still nod, picking up my coffee.
“Yes, I’ve also accepted that,” I grumble into my cup.
“Don’t sound so mad about it.” She laughs. She would think this is funny.
“I’m not mad, but we just got on a crazy roller-coaster together, and I can’t see the top. I’m freaking out, because there could be no more tracks left once we reach the tipping point.”
“He’s in love with you. That’s not going to change just because he’s mad. He’s kind of intense, and you probably hurt his feelings since he’s been lusting after you forever. Maybe even in love with you for that long. And now he thinks you don’t feel the same. It’s standard Alpha Male Syndrome.”
“Alpha Male Syndrome?” I laugh, and she nods.
“Yes, Alpha Male Syndrome, and your man is suffering from the worst case I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m still buying the house,” I tell her, and her eyes soften.
“Let me look it up. Do you know the address?”
“Yeah.” I tell her, and she types it into her computer then blinks at the screen. “What? Please don’t tell me someone has already put an offer on it.”
“No, no offer.” She spins her laptop around to face me. I scan the screen and the details of the house, and then feel bile rise up the back of my throat when I see the asking price.
“Six hundred thousand?” I whisper in disbelief. My house only cost me a hundred and sixty thousand. Granted, it’s much smaller than his, but still. That price is outrageous. “Stupid fountain.”
“What?” she questions.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “How much would my down payment need to be?”
“One hundred and twenty thousand, give or take, depending on if he’s willing to negotiate.”
Sitting back, defeated, I sigh. “I don’t have that much saved.” I have some money, but not a hundred and twenty thousand dollars. If I did, I would have zero school loans and a newer car than the one I have now.
“You should just talk to him. He doesn’t need a grand gesture like this.” She waves at the computer, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not unless you want to go bankrupt.”
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I moan.
“It’s called a relationship.” She smiles, taking a sip of coffee, and I kick her under the table.