Chapter 10
“What’s this?” Anika reached for a college brochure on my kitchen counter. I should start charging her rent. Since she lived five minutes away she was constantly over at my place stealing my food and shoes.
“Why are you always snooping through my shit?”
“If it was a secret it should be hidden like my vibrator.”
I snatched the brochure from William S. Boyd School of Law from her hand. “I’m thinking about going back to school.”
“Law school?” Anika took a bite of her everything bagel loaded with cream cheese.
“Yeah.” I don’t know why she was acting so surprised. After college the plan was to go to law school. It had been on my vision board since I was ten. I wanted to be a prosecutor or work for one of those organizations that help get wrongfully convicted individuals released.
“How exactly are you going to do that and sell homes?”
“Plenty of people work and go to law school.”
“I thought there were internships and tons of homework?”
“There is.”
She flipped through the pages of the course catalog for a school in California. “So once again, how are you going to do both?”
“I’ve been saving my money. So, I have my expenses covered for the first year.”
“Wait, you’re serious.” Anika pushed her bagel aside, no longer interested in eating.
“Yes. It’s something I’ve always wanted and being a lawyer could be beneficial for the business.”
“That may be true, but you have criminal law classes dog-eared.” She pointed to the open course guide in front of her.
“I’m just weighing my options.” I gathered the brochures and admission packets from various colleges and universities and stuffed them into a nearby drawer.
“And how are you going to pay for tuition?”
I bounced a lazy shoulder. “Loans, a part-time job.”
Anika’s face lit up. “You could ask Aldridge.”
“Aldridge, my client?”
“Aldridge, your ex who’s still in love with you.”
I sipped from my coffee mug, convinced my sister was being paid under the table by the Aldridge fandom to push this agenda. “As many times as you say that it’s never going to make it true. We’ve both moved on.”
“He’s single, you’re single.”
“The doorman is also single. Should I try for a love connection there too?”
“Not the same. Nessa, don’t make me call you out.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Just because you moved on doesn’t mean you’re over the past. Have you dated? Sure. Has anyone compared to Aldridge? No.”
Anika was acting like I’d been stuck in purgatory since the breakup. I had a robust dating life. There was an adjustment period, but I’d successfully moved beyond my college sweetheart. “I was engaged to Marcus. Remember him?”
“I remember you getting cold feet and calling it all off three months before the wedding day.” She picked a seed from her teeth.
I didn’t really have a comeback for that.
Marcus held a special place in my heart, but marriage was a big commitment.
It made sense on paper, he was a restaurateur with a string of successful properties in Vegas, California, and Portland.
Jemini loved him, mostly because of his portfolio and proximity to the rich and famous.
We were damn near a perfect match. Despite all that, I could never shake this nagging sense something was missing.
“And do you remember what you said to me the night before the shit hit the fan?”
Swallowing hard, I fessed up. “I said I wished Marcus were someone else.”
“Not someone else, Aldridge.”
“To be fair I was hormonal, tipsy, and an emotional wreck.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Anika was trying to use my statement a few years ago as a gotcha moment.
Did I miss what Aldridge and I had? Of course.
I’ve been fortunate than most. I’d dated several men who were emotionally intelligent, self-sufficient, and good in bed.
However, it was difficult to find a connection like I’d had with Aldridge.
He just got me from day one. We could communicate through silence.
And when we did speak even the ordinary chitchat had a way of making me feel safe and seen.
I could be my authentic self with Aldridge, something I couldn’t do with Marcus.
The thought of donning a mask for the rest of my life was exhausting.
“Look, can we talk about something else?”
“Okay.” Anika wasted no time redirecting our conversation. “Let’s go on a double date.”
“With who?”
“Dante, me, you, and one of Dante’s homeboys.”
“Ugh, no that sounds like a horrible idea.”
“What? Dante knows tons of eligible bachelors with deep pockets.”
“You and I don’t have the same taste in men.”
“I know what you like. I’ll make sure he ticks off all your requirements. Strait-laced, handsome but not pretty, tall—”
“He doesn’t have to be tall.” I returned the creamer to the refrigerator.
Anika rolled her eyes at my blatant lie. “Smart, good dresser. Shall I go on?”
“No, you’ve covered the basics.” If we weren’t sisters, I’m not sure we would be friends.
“You need to trust me. Anika knows best.”
Anika never knew best. My sister was the type who jumped before considering the consequences.
She was the person who banged on my door at two in the morning and demanded I pack a bag because we were going on a road trip.
I cannot even begin to list all of the sticky situations she’d gotten us into.
Some which left me fearful we wouldn’t make it out alive.
“Why can’t you and Dante just chill together?”
“Because lately your phone has been a bit dry.”
“I have plenty of men hitting me up. If I wanted, I could call any one of them and be wined and dined tonight.”
“So text one of those men and ask them to hang out with us. Feel free to drop Dante’s name if that helps.”
She was calling my bluff. I was confident I could find someone who was willing to take me out, but I wasn’t into making the first move. “Why am I always letting you talk me into things?”
“Because I’m your big sister. Besides, a little male attention will remind you that you’re that bitch. I see the way men look at you, and you are totally oblivious.
“I’m not oblivious, I’m just not interested.”
“You are too beautiful to not be getting your back blown out on a regular basis. Maybe you don’t find a love connection, but maybe you find a brother to realign your spine.”
Not going to lie, sex would be nice. Great sex would be life changing. But I’d take a mediocre dick down over a silicone one any day. Toys were great but an actual dick thrusting and making me cream was ideal. “Okay, but no fuckboys.”
The corners of Anika’s mouth curved into her signature mischievous smirk. “Your pussy is safe with me.”
“I don’t remember you being this picky,” I said after walking into the last home I had scheduled to show Aldridge that day.
“I’m not picky. I have preferences, yes.”
“Well this home is more contemporary than the last few I’ve shown you. The builder did a really good job of curating the space so the flow makes sense and is efficient.”
“How big?”
“Fifty-five hundred square feet. Which is also smaller than some of the previous places we looked at.”
“I noticed kids playing outside.”
“Yes, this is an established neighborhood so you’re going to get a good mix of older residents and new families who have upgraded from their starter homes.”
Clients like Aldridge were the worst. It was clear he wasn’t really sold on Nevada and so the thought of planting roots made him hesitant.
Settling on a place would make everything real and I don’t think he was ready to commit to Vegas as his new home.
I totally understood Vegas was an acquired taste.
Either you loved it or you hated it. And because it was a transient city with thousands of people from all across the globe coming and going every day, it was difficult to get a true sense of the city’s culture.
Aldridge circled the floor plan in silence, opening closets and testing the height of doorways.
I dreaded showing him these houses because long after we parted ways, the scent of him would linger in my car and on my clothes.
The other day I returned home from a tour and was frozen in my closet for fifteen minutes just inhaling my blouse like I was auditioning for one of those detergent commercials.
He didn’t wear the same scent as he did in college, and I think I preferred his new cologne better.
It made me want to bury my face into the crook of his neck while I stroked his dick.
“The half bath is big.”
“There are five bathrooms in total.”
“The fireplace?”
“It’s gas.”
He frowned. We both knew he didn’t give two shits about a wood-burning fireplace. He opened windows and examined baseboards like he was a home inspector looking for a reason to issue a negative report.
“There’s a mother-in-law suite in the back. And while there isn’t currently a pool, there’s more than enough yard to install one.”
“Good to know.”
A shiver ran down my spine with the memory of his deep baritone voice telling me I was a good girl while he stretched me out. Fuck Anika for planting this seed in my head.
Aldridge nodded, walking around the kitchen island. “I’m just a visual person and it’s hard for me to imagine a space with no furniture or decor.”
“It’s a blank slate which means you can make this place whatever you want.”
“I guess.” He scratched at his beard, looking less than enthused.
The key to closing the deal was helping your client envision themselves in the space.
This could be difficult when a home was vacant and unfurnished.
It lacked warmth and personality. I knew I should’ve staged the home to offer the best presentation.
Grabbing Aldridge by the hand, I pulled him toward the backyard.
“Where are we going?”
“Trust the process.” Outside I stood in front of the grill attached to the outdoor kitchen. “Could you hand me the plate with the burgers?” I tapped on my phone and Frankie Beverly and Maze’s “Before I Let Go” began to play.