13

tabby

 

As Sebastian ran up the stairs to hang out with Greyson, I exhaled with a heaving gust. My hands scrubbed over my face as I grappled for the strength to continue the conversation.

How the hell had he figured all that shit out? That’s the part I didn’t quite understand. Had he known all along, or was that stupid album really that much of a giveaway? Either way, it freaked me out to know he now knew at least the majority of the situation. And he wanted to know the rest. It didn’t actually hurt to tell him, not when he already knew so much, but it would require a dose of courage I didn’t know I had in me.

“I need a drink,” I muttered to myself as I hurried into the kitchen to scour my meager collection of wine.

I rarely drank. Too much of my life had required me to keep a level head. But, every now and then, I appreciated a glass of something. Now was one of those times and I grabbed for a bottle of wine my ex-future mother-in-law had gifted me last Christmas.

How strange it is, to find ourselves suddenly clouded by memories we hadn’t given a moment’s thought in months. I remembered her then, my ex-fiancé’s mother, and the uncertainty in her eyes as I unwrapped the bottle. She knew I didn’t drink much, but she had seen the bottle at her local liquor store and it reminded her of me. “The design looks like the windows at your office,” she’d said with a reluctant smile. I told her I loved the thought and that the bottle was gorgeous, because it was.

I miss her.

My lips pinched tightly as I uncorked the bottle and filled a glass to the halfway point. For a year after getting engaged, I’d grown so accustomed to the idea that she would be a woman I’d know for the rest of her life. Hell, that was the case for his entire family, but when he’d let me go, I had to let the rest of them go as well.

Bringing the glass to my lips, I sipped lightly. It was good. A little sweet, a lot fruity. A satisfying burn scratched at my throat as it slid down and instantly heated my belly. I hated moments like these. Moments that reminded me of all the people and things I’d lost in the past year. It always just seemed so much better to ignore it all.

Sebastian’s boisterous laughter floated down the stairs and lingered in the air around me, pushing my melancholy thoughts aside until I couldn’t think of anything but what they were doing upstairs. I hoped Greyson was having a good time. I hoped they were bonding over something they had in common. I hoped for all of these things because what I wanted for myself had nothing to do with what I wanted for Greyson, and that was for him to have a good relationship with his father.

 

***

 

My wine glass was empty and I found myself marginally relaxed. A steady beat of drums and cymbals crashed through the ceiling and into my ears, as I sat in my armchair, eyes closed and numb enough to feel happy.

Then, my business phone rang.

Grabbing it from the table beside me, I checked the number. Unknown.

“Hm,” I grunted shortly before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hi there. Is this Tabitha Clarke?” a man’s voice replied.

“This is she.” I sat up straighter, hardly registering that the drumming from above had now stopped.

“Good evening! My name is Roman Dolecki. So sorry to disturb you at home, at such a late hour, but your assistant gave me your number and said it would be fine to—"  

“Excuse me. My … assistant?” I took a glance at my watch. It was nearly six o’clock.

“Ah, he said his name was Alex Lewis?”

“Oh, right. Yes, of course.”

At that point, I figured things out. He was calling about the listing, and so soon! I allowed myself a grin of triumph. Granted, this wasn’t a sale, but how amazing was it to already be gaining traction in just a few hours of putting the listing online?

“What can I do for you, Mr. Dolecki?”

Clearing his throat, he began, “Well, Ms. Clarke, I’d like to first introduce myself. I’m an entrepreneur living in New York City, and I’m looking to relocate somewhere, uh, quieter.”

“I see,” I murmured, grabbing a pen and notepad from my briefcase to scribble his name along the lines.

“I was just browsing earlier for houses in your area, when I came across the Worthington house—that is what you’re calling it, correct?”

I nodded to myself. “Yes. Isn’t it gorgeous? The pictures really don’t do it justice.”

“I can only imagine,” he practically hummed with delight. “I’d love to see it myself, and I plan to, but unfortunately I’m unable to leave town for another couple of weeks.”

“Oh, well, I can’t guarantee that there won’t be any offers made before then,” I said regretfully. If we were already receiving interest within a few hours, what was to say there wouldn’t be more in a few days?

“I figured as such,” he replied with a friendly lilt to his voice. “I’m not asking to put a hold on the listing. But I was hoping that it would perhaps help my case if I used you to also sell my home in the city.”

“W-what?” I was genuinely taken aback. Was it possible that he was serious? I was hours away, living in a middle of nowhere town in upstate New York. Surely there were more experienced, more accessible realtors living in Manhattan.

“I took the liberty of reading your history via your website. I’m very impressed with your experience and the work your agency has done. I know I could work with someone more local, but it’s always easier if the buy and sell are handled by the same realtor. Plus, and please don’t take offense, I also feel less likely to be taken advantage of by a small-town girl than a big shot from the city,” Mr. Dolecki explained in that convincing tone you expect from lawyers and salesmen.

I wanted to protest, because it did seem a little ridiculous to me, but he did raise a compelling argument. It was easier if I handled both, and although it was several hours away, I supposed it wasn’t completely out of the question to take a day trip down to meet up with him.

But what about Greyson? And the niggling thought irritated me in the most shameful way.

“Mr. Dolecki, can I think about it? Unfortunately, I do have other responsibilities in my life that would interfere with me traveling at the moment. And while I know that New York City isn’t—”

“Ms. Clarke, if family is an issue, I will personally pay for a hotel room for you, your husband, and children.”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and I dropped my pen at the abrupt cacophony of noise.

“O-oh, no, I’m n-not married, and I don’t—” I stopped myself before I could tell him I don’t have children, just as Sebastian swung into the living room. “Actually, I have custody of my nephew.”

“Hey, do you mind if I order a pizza?” Sebastian asked, and I shot him an irritated look, while I pointed at my phone. “Oh, sorry,” he drawled quietly. “God forbid someone does you a favor.”

The dig was personal. Too personal for someone who had only just met me.

“Well, Ms. Clarke,” Mr. Dolecki replied, a sense of pleasantry in his voice that I appreciated in comparison to Sebastian’s brashness. “I would be happy to put the two of you up. In a hotel, I mean. Is this weekend okay?”

“Uh …” God, it was so sudden. I did want to sell the damn house, but I had only just answered the phone, and now he wanted me to travel to the city. And on my agreed weekend off, no less. “Would you mind if I thought about it?”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry for being so forward. I’ll admit, I instantly fell in love with the house from the pictures and got excited. But, please, take a day or two to think things over. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“Thank you so much. You can expect a call from me within the next twenty-four hours,” I replied gratefully. I jotted down his work and home phone numbers, and wished him a good night before hanging up.

When I laid my phone down on the coffee table, I looked up to find Sebastian still standing there, staring at me expectantly. I tried to remember what exactly it was he had wanted and when I came up empty, I asked him to repeat himself.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Greyson already called for the pizza,” he responded. “Who was on the phone?”

It wasn’t any of his business, but I still found myself saying, “Someone saw the listing online for Mrs. Worthington’s house and loved it so much he called right away.”

Impressed, the corners of his mouth turned downward with his nod. “Wow. That’s fucking awesome. Why did he care if you were married?”

“What?” I asked, tucking the notepad back into my briefcase. “He didn’t—”

“You told him you weren’t married, so I assumed he asked.”

The audacity of this man was something else. “He didn’t ask. He offered to pay for a hotel for my husband and I, if I had one, so I told him I didn’t.”

“Hm,” Sebastian grunted, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. “Why would you need to stay in a hotel?”

“Oh my God,” I breathed out with my sigh. “If you really have to know, he lives in New York City, and would like to meet me to discuss the sale of his house.”

“Oh, well, you don’t need a hotel then.” He nodded as though agreeing with himself. “You and Greyson can stay with me.”

I blinked up at him, thoroughly exasperated. How the hell could he possibly suggest something like that? We had only just met him. We hardly knew him. Staying in his house over the weekend seemed foolish and risky, and so, I found myself shaking my head.

“That is definitely not a good idea.”

“Oh yeah? And why not?” He folded his arms over his chest as Greyson walked into the room, phone in hand.

“Pizza’s coming,” he mumbled.

Sebastian asked him how much it came to, and just as I stood up to grab my purse, he held a hand up to stop me. “I got it,” he said, pulling his wallet out and handing Greyson a few bills. “Tell the guy to keep the change.”

Greyson nodded and wandered out of the room, leaving Sebastian and me alone once again. He stared at me, waiting for my reply with his head cocked and fingers tapping on his bicep.

“Sebastian, you only just met us. You can’t expect me to feel comfortable staying in your house,” I explained, unsure of why I even needed a reason.

“Yeah? And you’re just going to go meet this random guy who only just called you? Alone?”

“This is business!” I shouted with an exasperated shake of my head. “You can’t compare—”

“You’re right.” He smirked. “It is different. You actually know who I am. Plus, Tabby, didn’t you want me to help with Greyson? This is a perfect way to start, isn’t it? I could hang out with him while you’re doing business, and it’s a lot easier for me to do that in a place where there’s, uh, actually shit to do that doesn’t involve tractors and haystacks.”

I hated that he was actually making sense, not to mention that it might be good for Greyson to get away from this damn town for a couple days. And, remembering what Jess and Alex had said, maybe it would be good for me too.

“I’ll think about it,” I told Sebastian, and he grinned brighter than I ever would’ve expected.

“That’s all I ask.”