Drawn into Love (Fluke My Life 4)

“I don’t want to be friends with you, Tom. Really, if I never saw you again it would be too soon.”

“You don’t mean that. You love me.”

“Loved. I loved you. I don’t love you anymore. I don’t even like you.”

“So this is it? You’re moving to New York, and I’ll never see you again?”

There is no denying the sadness in his voice, but I no longer care about his feelings.

“I wanted forever with you,” I say quietly. “I wanted forever, and you took that from me. So yes, this is it. I don’t want to be friends, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”

His eyes drop to his feet.

“You will never know how sorry I am,” he tells me, meeting my gaze once more. He looks like he’s really hurting, and my heart—which he already destroyed with his carelessness—crumples in my chest. I hate that he’s in pain, but he didn’t think about how I would be affected by what he was doing to me.

“Bye, Tom.” I close the door on him and this chapter of my life.

“So what do you think?”

I’m looking around the house . . . Okay, maybe house is too loose a term, since the inside is completely bare. There’s no kitchen or bathroom, actually; there aren’t even walls. The structure is an outer shell that sort of kind of resembles a house.

“Ugh.” I scan the room again, wondering if I’m missing something. John, my Realtor, laughs. John is a couple of years older than me. He’s handsome in a Prince Harry sort of way, with copper-colored hair that makes his green eyes seem even brighter, a strong build, and an ever-present smile.

“I get it. It’s not much to look at, but it’s a great price. In this neighborhood, you won’t find a deal like this again.”

“It’s over a million.” I look around. “And there aren’t even walls.”

“Think of it as a blank canvas.” He smiles, showing off a small dimple in his left cheek.

“I don’t really have any other way to think of it, since there is nothing here.” My lips start to twitch when he laughs again.

“I know a great interior architect. He’s new to the city, but all of his work has been amazing. I’ll set you up with him if you decide that this is the house for you.”

“You really think this is a good investment?” I look around again.

“I showed you the comps for the neighborhood. Most of the houses on this street have been going for five million or more. I’m guessing that it will probably cost you eight hundred thousand or so to renovate. So yes, I really think this is a great investment.”

Never in my life would I have thought that I would be talking about spending a million dollars on a home—or about so much for renovations. But here I am, standing in the empty shell of a house and thinking about doing just that. Just the thought of spending that kind of money makes me want to break out in hives, especially after a childhood during which my whole existence could fit into a carry-on suitcase.

“It’s a cute neighborhood,” I say out loud, more to myself than to John, as I walk over toward a window that overlooks a quiet street in Riverdale, a cute area in the Bronx.

“It’s a really nice neighborhood. If you decide to have kids one day, the schools around here are some of the best in the city.”

Kids. That dream is long gone. If I do get this place, I would get a dog—or maybe a few of them—to keep me company. “How long do I have to think about this?”

“I’d love to tell you to take all the time you need, but this place is going to go fast. The developer who bought it and started fixing it up wants it off his hands as quickly as possible, which is why it’s priced like it is.”

“So I need to make an offer,” I say, turning around to face him. I feel anxiety rush through my stomach. I’ve never been good at making decisions without a lot of time and thought.

“If you’re going to make an offer, I’d say do it sooner than later.” He nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pressed slacks.

I turn and take in the empty space. I love the area, and I know he’s right. Homes on this block are going for a lot more than I would be paying, even including renovations. It would be an investment, probably a good one. I need to start my life over, and part of doing that is making a home for myself.

“Okay,” I agree.

His head tips to the side.

“I’ll make an offer, but promise me that if it’s accepted, you’ll get me in touch with your guy as soon as possible.”