And I settled for that. Looking back on it, I’m irritated with myself. Even if I was content with the arrangements, I should have known that I deserved better. And I don’t even think I was content with the arrangements; I just went along with it because that’s what he wanted.
And I wanted him.
And now I find another guy who is interested in my body and a few laughs, but that’s it. And he just made it clear that we could go on that way if I want to, but we would always just be friends.
I’m not just a friends with benefits girl.
Yes, the sex with Declan was fantastic. On a scale of one to ten, it was about a thirteen and a half, and I’m being conservative on that number. But what I enjoyed the most that night was the fun. The banter at the game, when he showed me his amazing house.
Talking about my family and his and how we feel about the loss of our fathers.
That’s what I didn’t even realize I’d been craving in my life. Yes, I work hard to keep the packaging looking good, but damn it, I want someone to be interested in what’s happening in my head and my heart too, and for one evening, I thought that might be Declan.
But, just like always, I was dead wrong.
***
It’s time to focus on me for a while.
I spent the weekend cleaning Adam’s condo, steering clear of his bedroom and bathroom, because only God knows what happens in there, although I have a pretty good idea from the noises coming through the wall that connects his bedroom to mine.
I need to invest in earplugs.
The result of all of the scrubbing and sweating was the realization that I need to focus on me and what I enjoy. Make myself happy.
I can do that. I don’t need a man for that.
Now that the bar renovations are finished and business is running smoothly, I’m ready to find a house to fix up and flip.
So I’m meeting Pete at his office, and he’s going to take me to see a couple of homes that might be perfect for me.
“Hey,” I say as Pete lowers himself into my car. “Thanks for doing this.”
“My pleasure,” he says, his eyes surveying the inside of my car. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks. Where to?” He pulls up the first location on his phone and shows it to me. “I know where that is.”
“It was so great to run into you the other night,” Pete says.
“It really was. It’s been a long time. Are you married?”
“Divorced,” he replies with a shrug.
“Kids?”
“Three,” he confirms and flips through his phone, then turns it so I can see a photo. “Mike is six, Emma is eight and Dina is ten.”
“Wow. That’s a handful. Congratulations.” Pete, the boy who couldn’t keep his mouth off of me just fifteen years ago, has three kids.
Crazy!
“How about you? Kids?”
“No.” I shake my head and pull up in front of the first house we’ll see today, already thinking it’s a no. That entire roof needs to be replaced, and on a house this size, that’s a large chunk of a reno budget. But it doesn’t hurt to look.
“Ever married?” he asks as he joins me on the porch.
“Nope.” I flash him a smile. “Too busy with work and other things to get there.”
He simply nods and unlocks the door, pushes it open, and gestures for me to go first.
“It’s empty,” I say as I enter a small foyer and look left into a formal dining room.
“It’s been empty for about three years,” he says, consulting the information on the papers he printed out on the property.
“Not good,” I murmur and continue through. There’s obvious water damage along the ceiling in the living room, and the brick fireplace is crumbling.
But there is a gorgeous staircase with a solid oak banister that, with some wax and elbow grease, would be magnificent.
The kitchen is small and sorely outdated, as are the two small bathrooms upstairs. The bedrooms just need new flooring and paint.
“What do you think?” Pete asks as he locks the door on our way out.
“I think this is a no,” I reply, inspecting the porch, and not happy to see evidence of termites. “This place is going to have to be gutted, and I think that’s outside my budget.”
“I understand. I have one more to show you today.”
This house is only a few streets over from the first one.
“This is better,” I say. “The roof is in better shape.” The house is larger, too, and definitely needs work.
“This is empty too, but only for about a month, so there shouldn’t be extensive damage inside.”
“Let’s have a look.”
He unlocks the door and when I walk in, I stop in my tracks and cover my mouth and nose with my hand. “I think you were wrong, Pete.”
“Holy shit,” he mutters. “This just went on the market yesterday, and it’s obviously not been cleaned.”
“They’ll have to tear it down,” I reply, stupefied by the sight before me. There is a hole—a hole—in the ceiling, all the way through to the second floor, and a bed, the object that obviously caused the hole, is in the middle of the living room. There is garbage everywhere, and it smells like a sewer.
“Do you want to see the rest?” he asks.
“Is it safe?” I turn wide eyes to him and then shrug. “Meh, I’m always up for an adventure, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”
We move carefully through the living room, stepping over garbage and God knows what, to the kitchen, where I have to will myself not to throw up.