Just Friends(53)

My head spins with the possibilities of how that much money could change my life—not only mine but my mom’s, too. We could be taken care of for… life? How fast can two people go through a million dollars? Would I have to pay taxes on that? Also, why is Declan not shocked? Why does he know so much about real estate?

“Was your house a million dollars?” I step toward him conspiratorially, voice hushed so that Emily doesn’t overhear.

The question seemed too ludicrous to be answered seriously, but when Declan’s face doesn’t change, I realize that it’s not too ludicrous.

At his silence, it dawns on me. “Oh my gosh. It was.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” he says near my ear, looking over my shoulder to make sure Emily is still busy texting.

“Yeah!” I hiss. “Ya think?”

I could say yes to selling the house right now and move to New York City within the month. This would change everything. But at the same time, if I had that much money, why would I move to New York City? I look at Declan, notice the glisten on his bottom lip, and then remember. Oh yeah. That’s why.

But if Declan wasn’t in the picture, I had still spent the past four years ignoring myself in order to achieve what I believed would bring me and my mom independence.

Could I still attain that autonomy here? In a house I didn’t earn, across the street from a boy I spent my whole life loving, in a city where Lottie’s absence was apparent on every street corner? It seemed so… painful. But it was painful either way.

Grief swirled in my stomach. I didn’t want to flippantly rush my way through this, but the decision felt like a confrontation. One that confirmed Lottie was really gone. I couldn’t just leave Seabrook knowing this house was here.

“How much do you think she could charge a month for rent here?” Declan asks Emily.

Without looking up from her phone, she says, “Oh, at least thirty-five hundred. And that’s on the low end.”

Declan looks at me to gauge my reaction. There’s concern pinching his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out slightly from the tension.

“And if she wanted to live here? Is it paid off? Property taxes?” He gestures with his hand like, “insert etcetera details.”

“The house is fully paid off. You’ll still be responsible for property taxes, but luckily for you, California is below the national rate.” She says it like I’m not that lucky.

Fully. Paid. Off.

I feel like I’m living in a multiverse. I imagine parts of my body getting stuck; my heart and lungs staying in this house, writing novels by the beach, while my brain and hands go to New York. I mentally glitch back to the present.

“Why don’t we discuss this over a meal. You’re gonna need some time to process all of this,” he says in a low voice by my ear. I feel the heat of his breath brush the sensitive spot on my neck, a strand of hair bristles slightly. In any other scenario, I’d find it suggestive, but I know he’s only doing it so Emily won’t hear.

I manage a nod.

“Thank you so much for your help, Emily. Blair’s going to take some time to weigh her options, but we’ll notify you as soon as we decide. Lovely meeting you.” He gives her one last dimpled smile. I look at her and nod like, “Yeah, what he said.”

“Oh! Okay,” Emily stutters. “I’ll lock up then. Good luck thinking.”

And with that, Declan throws his arm over my shoulder and ushers me out the door. I’m too dazed to notice that his arm is over my shoulders until much, much later.

He walks me through the front yard, which I would usually take a moment to marvel at, but I follow his lead all the way to my car, eyes unseeing.

“Actually”—he gestures for me to switch spots with him—“I’ll drive.”

“Huh?” I mumble, feeling far away from reality.

“I’ll drive. You need to think.”

I nod numbly and choose to crawl over the center console rather than get out like a normal person to reach the passenger seat.

I hear Declan’s deep, gravelly chuckle from behind me before he sinks into the driver’s seat and closes the door.

“Jeez,” he says, moving the seat back. “It can’t be safe to sit this close to the wheel.”

Despite the mix of panic and confusion swirling through me, I laugh. I laugh so hard that I have to place a hand over my stomach to recenter myself. He starts to drive, I’m not sure where, and I keep laughing. I can’t stop.

“Blair,” Declan says, starting to realize I’m no longer laughing at his comment.

I keep laughing. Tears form in the corners of my eyes.

“Blair,” he repeats in a stern voice, but nothing can stop the spiral of emotions I’m descending into.

“Whoo! I’m sorry,” I say, wiping the tears that threaten to fall. “This is just too good, isn’t it?”

“What’s too good?”

“All of this!” I gesture wildly to the houses we’re passing. “Look at that house.”

He looks to the right.

“One million dollars. Look at that house.” I point to the left. “Probably, hmm, let me guess: one million dollars. And guess what else? One of them is mine!” I throw my head back and cackle, the part of my brain that cares about social cues completely short-circuiting.