Chapter 48
Kellan
The diner was bustling, the hour late, Spencer clearly surprised—and more than a little displeased—at being summoned after work hours. He wasn’t alone. I was salty and smelly from another long day out at sea, famished as Mavis brought me a BLT and chocolate milkshake, my idea of a big night out on the town lately.
“So what’s up?” he asked, clearly concerned.
“I’m just not happy with the way things are progressing,” I said, tired, frustrated and over it.
“What… things?”
I waved a greasy hand while reaching for my shake. “Our thing,” I grunted before sucking down a mouthful of homemade chocolate shake. “This… thing.”
His face remained impassive, but Spencer wasn’t a stupid man. And, I’d suddenly realized, neither was I. After a long week of seeing places that weren’t quite right, for either of us, I’d come to the determination that there was only one solution, whether Spencer liked it or not.
“That sounds like a threat,” he said, pushing his blue plate special away.
I chuckled dryly. “Not at all,” I reasoned. “It’s business, right? Your listings suck, you’re not listening to us, we’re frustrated and fighting, it’s just not working out.”
“B-b-b-but…” he stammered, losing his cool for the first time since we’d started working together. “We have a contract.”
“For a month,” I reminded him, having already consulted it on my way over from the marina.
“And we’ve only worked together for a week or so,” he said. “At least give me the rest of the term to make you happy.”
“You can keep looking for houses,” I said around a mouthful of crispy bacon and even crispier lettuce, “and if you find one, great. But I’m going to start looking for things myself and, well, if I find something…”
I left the obvious implication unspoken—Spencer would be shit out of luck when it came time to collect a commission. He nodded, knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “And your South Beach condos?” he hedged, a wary look in his eyes, as if I might yank those out from under him as well. “I already have a lead on your place, and Carla’s tenant moves in next month. I assume you’re happy with both of those developments?”
I nodded emphatically, not wanting to burn a bridge where I didn’t have to. “Of course, Spencer. And, nothing personal, but like you said… both Carla and I are really fragile at the moment. We may have jumped the gun when it comes to moving in with each other.”
Spencer nodded, then seemed to reconsider, shaking his head instead. “I wouldn’t say that,” he countered. “I just think you two kids are overwhelmed with life at the moment. Give it some time, take it slow and look around. I’m sure you’ll find the place you want and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep looking whether you guys go with one of my choices or not, fair enough?”
I nodded, pushing my empty plate away and sitting back, surprised. “I appreciate that, Spencer,” I said, suddenly relieved. Ever since deciding to fire our realtor early that morning, I’d been dreading the decision. But now that it was done, and Spencer had taken it so well, relief flooded my body. Or maybe it was the chocolate shake. Whatever it was…I felt a lot better.
“Can I ask a question?” he said, reaching for his wallet. I waved it away and, apparently thinking twice, he nodded as if that was only right. “Did Carla make you come alone?”
I shook my head, trying to hide my blush. “I haven’t… haven’t told her yet.”
He nodded, a knowing smile curling across his fleshy face. “And if she calls me later this week to wonder why I haven’t been showing you two any new places?”
I shrugged. “You can tell her to ask me,” I said, voice heavy, if not quite with despair, then at least frustration. “But between you and I, Spencer, I think Carla is as over all this as I am.”
“I think you’re wrong,” he said, beginning to extricate himself from the booth. “I think if you two could step back from what you’re doing for everyone else, you’d discover why you wanted to buy a place together in the first place.”
I nodded, watching him stand to his full height. “You’re probably right, Spencer,” I said, feeling bad that I could potentially be cutting him out of his commission. “I just… don’t know how to do that right now.”
“You’re going to have to,” he said, voice firm, if not stern. “What’s the point of buying a place together if you’re so busy caring for everyone else you can’t even enjoy it?”
I pondered his words the whole way back to the beach cottage, nestled down a long, snaking drive amidst towering palms. The cottage was quaint from the outside, and just as cozy inside, but without the slapping of Carla’s bare feet on the hardwood floors or even the scent of her fragrant perfume, it seemed empty and cold.
Alone, the TV off and the house dark, I heard the crashing of the waves and wondered why I was being so stubborn. Was where we lived really more important to me than what Carla wanted? Did we even care where we lived if we were only going to be in Siesta Key for a few more years?
Or was it more than that? Was she mad about where we were looking for houses because she resented her parents? Or was it me? Was I missing something? Was I offending her by implying we’d “only” be in Siesta Key for a few years? Did she want more from me? Was this all some test and, worst of all, was I failing?
I wanted to call her, to text her, to run to her, to find her hiding in my bedroom, naked under the sheets, or even fully clothed in my kitchen. Instead I padded around the lonely cottage alone, pondering my fate and wondering how something that had started out so special turned so wrong, so fast.