“That’s different,” I argued.
“No, it isn’t. You don’t want to borrow money from me because of your pride. I get it. But unless you want your dream house to go to someone else, or you want to ask Mom and Dad for the money and deal with all their opinions, you should just grit your teeth and do it. Take it.”
“It’s a lot of money,” I said quietly. Was he doing this because he felt guilty about what he’d done to me seven years ago? Or did he really want to invest in me?
“I can afford it. Look, I’m not a millionaire or anything, but I won some prize money and have several endorsements. And you’ll pay it back—we’ll work out a payment schedule. We can even involve my lawyer if it makes you feel better. Then it’s totally official.”
I swallowed, gulping back the yes that was dying to escape my throat. For once in my life, I was not going to jump too soon and do the wrong thing. “No. Thank you, but no…I really want to do this on my own if I can.”
“OK. I won’t pressure you about it. The offer’s on the table.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He put the car in drive. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re crazy. The house does need some renovating, and I think they should come down in price, but it’s a beautiful old place. I totally see you in it.”
Smiling, I slipped my sunglasses on as we pulled onto Jefferson, wondering if he saw himself in it, too.
Fucking me in the butler’s pantry, perhaps.
But I thought it best not to ask.
We didn’t talk at all on the ride to the farm, mostly because once we got on the interstate, it was too noisy with the top down. But once we exited I-75 and got on smaller highways and then country roads, the ride was quieter.
It had been so long since I’d driven through a rural area—I lived in the suburbs, worked in the city, and when I traveled, I usually flew somewhere urban and outside of Michigan, like Chicago or New York. I’d forgotten how pretty and restful the Midwestern countryside was on a clear summer day, everything warm and golden. I loved the old red barns, the solid little brick farmhouses, the Victorians with their lacy trim and old-fashioned front porches. The neat green rows of beans and cabbage, thick fields of sweet corn and sugar beets, huge cylinders of hay dotting the flat, still landscape. Horses and cows grazed in paddocks fenced with railroad ties, and occasionally I’d see children on swings hanging from big old trees or jumping on trampolines in their yards.
And of course, there were orchards. Would I ever be able to pass an apple orchard without feeling like my panties might melt? Tipping my head back against the seat, I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face as memories warmed by body. Beside me, Nick cleared his throat. Was he thinking about it, too?
“I’m hungry,” he announced.
I almost laughed. He was thinking about food, not sex. I picked up my head. “Are you?”
“Yes. Want to have a picnic?”
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“OK. There’s a little country store up here. We’ll buy some picnic food, and then I know the perfect spot to go eat.”
Of course he did. He knew the perfect way to do everything. I couldn’t stop thinking about his offer. The way he’d described it, sort of like a business loan, appealed to me, but was I just rationalizing it because I wanted the house so badly? What if repairs ate up all my money and I couldn’t pay him back? Wouldn’t it be easier to say to my parents, Hey I’m a little short this month, than it would be to face Nick—or God forbid, his lawyer—and have to say the same?
I knew he would offer a low interest rate and give me a fair payment schedule, but still…this kept him in my life. I’d be tied to him until I paid off the debt. Could I handle that? Clearly he didn’t have a problem doing business with his ex-wife, and maybe he saw this as a way to make amends for what he’d done. Atonement.
Was I prepared to offer that?
Or maybe he got a kick out of being in the position to lend me money after all the time he spent feeling bad about himself because I grew up wealthy and he hadn’t. Maybe it was an ego boost. That was possible.
I fretted about it as he turned off the road into the dirt parking lot of a store housed in a little old barn. I wanted the money, but I didn’t want to feel icky about it. At least, I didn’t want to feel ickier than if I took my parents’ money.
Ugh, there was no good way to go about this. Bottom line was, I couldn’t afford the house. I should just let it go.
“Want to come in?” Nick turned off the car and opened his door.
“No. I’ll wait here. I have to check my messages anyway. Go on, you can choose lunch. I trust you.”
“Dangerous words, cupcake.”
I returned his smile, but I felt a little like crying.
God, why couldn’t I have fallen in love with something else, something small and reasonable? Something new, perhaps, that didn’t need so much work? Why did I have to want something old and broken down…something I couldn’t have?
#
While Nick was in the store, I checked my text and messages. Erin had texted, wanting to know how things were going, and Mia had sent me a long list of things she was freaking out about. I messaged Erin back that I was fine and told Mia to relax, for the millionth time. Her wedding would be perfect. I said I was out shopping for the day but if she wanted help, I’d be around tomorrow and Monday. Secretly I hoped she wouldn’t, though. One look at me and she’d know something was up.