Chapter 4
Kaden
I take in the sleek, open, and surprisingly light-filled kitchen with its matte white cabinetry, stone benchtops, and stainless-steel fixtures. The space feels clean and inviting, and I can already imagine many nights spent by the stove cooking meals, even if it’s just for myself.
Max Kempsey, my highly trusted real estate agent, gives me a thorough rundown of the open-plan, two-bedroom apartment we’re currently viewing, the last of the four inspections we’ve done today.
As he talks about the recently installed solid timber floorboards, my mind is racing with a hundred ideas on how I want to furnish and decorate the place.
I’m thinking a deep grey sectional couch tucked into the corner of the living room, with a sixty-five-inch television mounted on the opposite wall, framed by a built-in TV unit and shelves in bold, dark tones.
A rectangular Tasmanian oak dining table with black metal legs and four graphite chairs, matching the colour of the sofa, will sit perfectly in the centre of the open kitchen and living space.
And rugs—plenty of rugs—to soften the edges of the place, making it feel warm, cosy and homely.
I smile inwardly as I picture the apartment fully decorated with custom-designed furniture, indoor plants, wall art, and framed photos displayed on freshly painted walls. It’s then, that I realise: this is the one. This is the place I’ll begin my new life.
Since my session with Dr. Carroll, three days ago, I’ve been putting together a list of things I hope will guide me towards real change and healing.
The first task was clearing every bottle of alcohol from my room, and from the places I’d hidden them away in my office and car.
Jason, ever the thoughtful friend, kept whatever he had in his fridge completely out of my sight.
The second step was meeting with Max today, the same real estate agent who helped sell Skylar’s and my house at the end of last year and managed to secure a great profit from it.
Even though I gave most of that money to my ex-wife, the least I could do after what I put her through—I still had a small amount left over for myself coupled with the savings I had already had in the bank.
The apartment may not be in my ideal area, and it’s even further away from the city centre, but it’s still a decent neighbourhood, with newer buildings and recently developed amenities.
The community already feels welcoming, and I have a really good feeling that this could be the perfect place to start anew.
“The complex itself is about two years old, one of the newest in the area, and it’s surrounded by schools, childcare, and shopping centres,” Max explains, gesturing towards the view from the balcony.
“There’s plenty of public transport as well if you need to commute to the city for work.
Overall, it’s a growing area with literally everything you could need right on your doorstep,” he adds.
I nod silently, taking in every detail of the space. The apartment feels spacious, with natural light pouring through the floor to ceiling glass windows, instantly brightening and warming the place up. We move from room to room, finally arriving at the master bedroom.
“As you can see,” he continues, “the master comes with a walk-in wardrobe, an ensuite, and air-conditioning, perfect for those hot summer nights. The carpet is made from organic wool, which not only ensures durability but also wears much better than many other types of carpet.”
Moving into the ensuite, I open the door to a simple yet modern bathroom, equipped with all the standard features of a contemporary apartment.
“Hmm… I suppose I could make a few cosmetic changes, nothing too outrageous,” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else.
`“That’s right. It’s literally a blank canvas for you to add your own unique style,” Max says from behind.
I turn to face him, taking in his perfectly tailored suit, expensive watch, polished shoes, and slicked-back hairstyle that would make even David Beckham envious.
He’s the picture of success, likely having sold millions in property over his six-year career.
Yet beneath the sharp exterior, I can sense a genuine commitment to finding the perfect home for every client, a man clearly on a mission, but one who cares about the people he serves.
“What’s the current price guide on this apartment again?” I ask.
“For this two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with secure building access and a basement carpark, the price guide is set between $550,000 to $600,000.”
I nod, thinking it over for a brief moment. The apartment is in a sought-after suburb, and with all the new developments underway, the property market in this area is only going to rise in the coming years. It’s a no-brainer. This place is perfect for me.
After scanning the room one last time, I glance back at Max, who’s waiting patiently for my response.
“I want to put in an offer,” I finally say.
“Of course, Mr Grant. I thought you’d like this one, which is why I saved the best for last,” he says with a low chuckle. “Let’s head back to my office, and we can go over your offer and any other questions you might have.”
I give another small nod and smile. “Okay, great. I’m all ears.”
I gently knock on Jason’s office door, eager to share the news about my apartment hunt.
The moment I left the agency, I drove straight to his restaurant, filled with a renewed sense of joy and excitement I hadn’t felt in such a long time. The meeting with Max went smoothly, and in the end, I submitted an offer of $575,000—a price that’s nearly at the top of my budget.
Max plans to speak with the owner at the end of the business day, and hopefully we’ll have some good news by the start of next week. Hopefully.
After a short minute, I hear Jason’s voice calling me in from the other side. I quietly open the door to find him seated behind his desk—and Mila perched at the edge beside him with her back towards me.
They both turn their attention to me, their expressions mirroring each other in surprise, and somehow, I’ve never felt more awkward and uneasy, like I’m intruding in their private moment.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor,” I blurt out, almost mumbling over my words. “I’ll just come back later when you’re not too busy.” I gesture towards the door with my thumb, ready to make a quick dash.
Mila lets out an exasperated sigh and slowly rises to her feet, adjusting her pink blazer as she does.
“It’s okay, I was just about to leave. He’s all yours,” she says, glancing back at Jason.
She leans down for a kiss, and I quickly avert my gaze to the ceiling.
They’ve been dating for months now, and it still feels strange to see my best friend with my ex-sister-in-law.
I was completely blindsided by their relationship—shocked, even—especially since I’d never seen them interact or so much as glance in each other’s direction when I was still married to Mila’s sister.
But I guess after spending nearly a year babysitting Jason’s son, somewhere along the way, feelings had developed between the two.
It doesn’t bother me that they’re together. Jason is one of the most trustworthy men I know—honest, steady, a far better man than I ever was. If there’s anyone I trust to love Mila and take good care of her, it’s him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late,” Mila says as she straightens to her full height.“For you, never.” Jason replies, as he suddenly pulls her back down for one last kiss. “I love you,” he whispers to her.
“Love you too. Bye.”
Mila strolls towards the door but pauses when she reaches my side. We lock eyes, and I brace myself for her infamous eye-roll or her usual look of disgust, but what she does instead completely catches me by surprise.
“I’m sorry to hear about the baby,” she says, her voice sincere, though her gaze remains guarded. “No one deserves something like that. Not even you.”
I swallow, my throat tightening at her unexpected kind words. Even though I know it probably doesn’t mean much to her, it means a lot to me, and I’ll be damned if I ruin this moment.
“Thank you, Mila. It means a lot to hear that.”
She gives a curt nod and, without another word, saunters out of the room. Once the door clicks shut behind me, I finally release the breath I hadn’t even realised I was holding.
Jason’s deep laugh snaps me out of my daze, and I flick my eyes towards him.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, one brow arched in curiosity.
“I’ve just never seen a grown arse, thirty-five-year-old man get so nervous and anxious around a pint-sized twenty-five-year-old woman.”
I can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous that does sounds. “Well, if you ever meet someone who hates your guts so much she could kill you with a single glare, I’m sure you’d feel the same way too.”
“Can’t argue with you there, brother. Women can be terrifying sometimes. Anyway, what can I do for you?” he says as he leans back, elbows on the armrests, fingertips pressed together to form a triangle, looking every bit the badarse boss he is.
I walk over to his desk and sink into the chair opposite him.
“I just came from the real estate agency, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? How did that go?”
My lips stretch into a wide grin, unable to hide my excitement. “I’ve put an offer on an apartment in the Hills area. I’m just waiting to hear back from the owner.”
“Wow, you found something already? It must be quite the apartment.”
“It is. It’s got everything I need, and the neighbourhood seems pretty decent. I’ve even started planning how I’ll furnish it. And the best part, it’s only twenty minutes away from you and Jake.”
“I’m really stoked for you, man. Sounds like you’re handling things quite well. I truly hope you get approved. God knows you could use some good news.”
I let out a soft chuckle, though there’s little genuine humour behind it. “It would be nice to have something go my way for a change. But if I don’t get it, I’ll just keep looking. I won’t let it deter me from my goal.”
Jason smiles—a sincere, almost prideful smile, and something about that one simple gesture instantly warms me inside.
“Proud of you, Kaden. For all the effort you’ve been putting in lately. I know it’s hard, but I can already see small changes. Keep it up, man. Happiness suits you better.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I’d like to think so too. But I’ve still got a lot of work ahead of me.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Any small change is progress, and you’ve made plenty this week.
In fact, for every step forward, I’ll treat you to a free meal—anything you want from the menu.
So far, I owe you three meals on the house: one for the therapy, one for the alcohol cleanse, and one for the apartment. ”
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I can do it without any incentives.”
“Nah! I want to. It’s the least I can do to support you. Now, come on,” he says, shutting down his computer and standing up.
“Where are we going?” I ask, suspiciously.
“I owe you your first free meal. So get your arse up and let’s go.”
“Well, if you insist.”
Jason winks, then slaps me on the shoulder. “Atta boy!”