“I never use my yacht anyway. I’m sure Simone would get much better use out of it…but I’d rather sink it than give it to her.”
Simone was the nightmare that haunted my dreams, but instead of getting angry about it, I had to remind myself she would be gone soon. My brother would get the better deal out of the settlement, and then she would be gone for good. I’d never exercised so much patience in my life.
“Monroe has been exceptionally nice to me…considering Simone threatened her.”
“You aren’t Simone.”
“But still…she’s a good woman.”
A very good woman. A strong but innocent woman. She brought out the best in me because she beat out the worst. “She is.”
He stared at me for a long time, meaning lingering in his eyes.
“What?”
“I’ve been with a manipulative bitch for the last five years. Now that I’ve come out of the fog, I see so fucking clearly. I see a woman who never gave a damn about me. Because of that, I see Monroe in a new way. I see the kind of woman I wish Simone had been. I see someone honest, caring, and selfless. You’re really going to let a woman like that go?”
“Who said anything about letting her go?”
“You’re still acting like it’s a transaction. Sounds like the same thing to me.”
I knew my brother was trying to help me, but we weren’t close enough for this kind of conversation. “Stay out of my personal life, alright?”
“I’m just looking out for you. Monroe mentioned you dropped her the second you got what you wanted last time. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Now I liked this even less. “Don’t talk to her about my personal life either.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Well, don’t,” I snapped.
My brother kept up the same expression, like he knew something I didn’t. “Even though Simone turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life, I really liked being in a relationship. I liked coming home to the same person every day, sharing my life with them, and just being together. One-night stands used to be my thing, but they got old after a while.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cut the shit, man.”
“I’m being serious. You only turned to cherry popping because of me and Simone. I’m sorry for that…I really am. But I think it’s time you put the past behind you and try again, this time with the right person. Monroe isn’t Simone…she’ll never be Simone.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know…do you?”
I’d had enough of this conversation. “I’ll see you at home later.”
“Alright…but think about what I said.”
When I got off work, I met with my real estate agent. She took me to a quaint townhouse just a few blocks from where I lived. It was right off the sidewalk in a nice neighborhood, close to the park and on the upside of town.
She took me inside and showed me the 2,000-square-foot home with the full kitchen, living room, and several bedrooms. It was a little big for a single person, but Monroe wanted a husband and a family someday. It would be perfect for that.
Then she would have everything she needed.
No debt. A good job. And a nice place to live.
I wouldn’t have to worry about her again.
The agent followed me until we returned to the entryway. “It’s not officially on the market yet. If it were, it would already be gone. But I wanted you to have the first opportunity if you wanted it.”
“I’ll take it.” I could picture Cherry growing old in this place, raising a family and then watching her kids leave for college. I could picture her and her husband watching TV after making dinner in the kitchen. The thought made me happy, but also sad at the same time. While she was living her dream, what would I be doing?
Would I be a fifty-year-old man still popping cherries?
Would I be rich and alone?
Would my only legacy be my brother’s kids?
“How did you want to do this?” she asked. “In cash?”
“Yeah. In cash.”
I showered after I hit the gym and then stepped into the living room.
Coen was there nearly all the time now. In the beginning, he stayed upstairs and thrived in his own space, but now he felt comfortable enough spending his evenings with us. Right now, he and Cherry were playing a card game at the kitchen table.
“Ha.” Cherry threw her cards down. “I win again.”
Coen stuck out his tongue. “You suck.”
“At least I’m not a poor sport.”
“I’m not a poor sport,” he countered. “I just think you’re cheating.”
“Am not.” They bickered back and forth like siblings.
I walked up to the table and rested my hands on the surface. “Coen, could you give us a few minutes? I need to talk to Cherry about something.”
“Uh, sure.” Coen detected my serious mood and excused himself from the table. “I want a rematch later.”