Chapter 24
SAM
Ilook at Becca. Did I hear her right?
“Our house,” I say quickly. She goes to speak, but I stop her right away.
“I know what the paperwork says, and we will address that later. But this house, this decision, any financial matters in my life going forward, they are our choice. Even if our finances are never intermingled again, I’m still going to give you the ways to see where every damn dollar went.”
Becca stays silent, but her face is communicating all that has gone unsaid, and she nods, agreeing this isn’t the time.
I look over at Holly. “This is a lot of money you’re giving up, much more than the investment.”
She gives me a tight smile. “I know. But you’ve been taking care of me my entire life.
You’re the best brother I could have imagined, and I’m realizing now I took advantage of that.
I love you, and I want to have a relationship with you, not someone you constantly feel you’re taking care of.
Continuing the payments to me would get in the way of that. ”
“Okay,” I acknowledge. “Since Becca has heard this, and we will discuss it more later, you will pay her back $37,500, and you will not owe me anymore with the house repayment.”
We all sit there, taking a moment to let that settle. Dad leans back in his chair, looking between the three of us like he’s just watched a negotiation he didn’t expect to go this way.
“Well,” he says dryly, “that was … surprisingly functional.”
Holly huffs out a laugh, Becca doesn’t, and I’m somewhere in between.
“Before we adjourn,” he continues, tapping the edge of the paperwork, “I want to be very clear on one thing.” His eyes land on Holly. “This plan works—on paper. But plans don’t fail because of math. They fail because people get emotional, cut corners, or revert to old habits.”
Holly straightens. “I won’t.”
He holds her gaze a beat longer. “Good. Because you don’t have the margin for it.”
Then his attention shifts—sharp, direct—to me. “And you,” he says, “call your mother.”
I blink. “I—what?”
“You heard me.” He’s already gathering the papers. “She’s upset, says you won’t answer her calls.”
My jaw tightens. “Yeah, sure,” I mutter, trying to get out of this conversation. I’ll deal with her when I’m ready, when she has shown some effort to change, and not a moment sooner.
“Mm,” he hums like he knows that’s bullshit but doesn’t push it.
Holly clears her throat, pulling us back. “There’s one more thing.”
We all look at her.
“Mandy.”
Becca’s posture shifts subtly. I reach down and squeeze her knee, reassuring her, removing my hand before she can protest.
“I’m not keeping her on as any type of partner,” Holly says quickly. “That’s not happening.”
I nod in approval as Becca leans back, crossing her legs, looking like she may want some popcorn for this.
“But,” Holly continues, “she does have experience running front-of-house operations. Scheduling, client management, and vendor coordination. If she wants it, I’ll offer her a position as an employee, but only that.”
I hesitate for half a second. “You sure about that?”
Holly looks at me, steady. “I’ll talk to her. Set expectations. It’s my call now.”
I nod once. “Yeah, it is. Alright, if you’re sure.”
Becca’s eyes flick to me, then back to Holly.
“No ownership, no decision-making authority,” Holly adds. “And definitely no access to company cards.”
Dad nods once. “Appropriate.”
“That’s … fair,” Becca says carefully.
We stand, chairs scraping softly against the floor. No one rushes for the door. It’s like we’re all aware that something has shifted in our family. And none of us is quite sure what to do with it yet.
Holly gathers her folder, looking lighter than she has in weeks. “Okay,” she says, forcing a small smile. “Well. That was … a lot.”
“No kidding,” I mutter.
Becca exhales beside me. “Yeah. That was heavy.”
There it is: the understatement of the century.
Dad moves toward the door, holding it open for us. “Progress rarely feels comfortable,” he says. “If it does, you’re probably not doing it right.”
We step out into the hallway, the air somehow easier to breathe. Holly turns to Becca, hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. Becca pauses, just for a second, before letting her.
Holly pulls back first. “Thank you. Seriously,” she gushes.
Becca nods once, staying professional. “You’re welcome. We’ll see how it goes. And you have a salon to focus on.”
It’s not forgiveness, but not rejection either. A small bud of hope sets inside me that someday these two can be friends.
Holly glances between us, then gives me a look that says "Don’t screw this up again" without actually saying it.
“Text me later,” she chirps, already backing away as she disappears down the hall.
And then it’s just Becca and me. I don’t move right away, neither does she.
There’s space between us, maybe a foot, but it feels like too much.
I step closer before I can overthink it.
Not touching, but close enough that I can see the shift in her breathing.
Close enough that I remember exactly what it feels like to have her pressed against me—and how badly I’ve messed this up.
I take a deep breath, about to do something I haven’t done since I first met her. “Becca, will you go on a date with me?”
Becca blinks at me, then starts laughing. “Wow, I haven’t been asked out in a little while.”
“Yeah, since the day we met.”
Becca starts to look a little uncomfortable.
My eyes widen. “Wait, you have been asked out since then?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve said no, obviously. Property management is a fairly male-dominated field, but the wedding ring does help. Plus, it’s one of the reasons we moved our Zentrology nights to our houses: no men to deal with.”
Of course, my wife gets asked out. Anyone with eyes can see how amazing she is. And here I am, fucking it up.
Still, logic isn’t settling in at this moment. “I need names, descriptions, where you met, and any identifying factors you can give me about these men.”
“What?” Becca sputters with a laugh.
“I need to make sure these fuckers know you are off limits. You already have a ring. Should I get a bigger one? Tattooing ‘off-limits’ seems a bit much. How about a skywriter once a week? Eh, these idiots probably aren’t smart enough to read an actual sign if they don’t already see the signs you are unavailable. ”
Becca giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. “Sam, I think we can call off the planes for now. I promise you this isn’t a weekly occurrence, and I have let them all down easy, and none of them have pushed it.”
I feel marginally better, marginally. “Okay,” I say slowly, drawing out the word. “So … the date.”
Her smile fades just a little. And I see it, the hesitation.
She looks at me for a long second. “A date?” she repeats. I nod.
“If I say yes,” she says carefully, “this doesn’t mean everything’s fine.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean we’re … back to normal.”
“I know.”
She studies me again, and in those seconds, I run through my Plan B, C, and D to get this woman back into my life.
“One date,” she says finally. “That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
Relief hits so hard I have to lock my jaw to keep it from showing too much.
“One date,” I repeat, keeping my voice level.
“Do you need me to make reservations somewhere? What time do you want to go?” Becca asks, and my heart aches even more.
This woman has been running too many aspects of our lives, even having to plan out our dates. I should have taken better care of her, treated her like the damn queen she is. Fuck.
“No, I got it handled.” I assure her.
She looks at me skeptically.
“I mean it. You won’t need to worry about one thing. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.” I reach for her and stop short, waiting for permission to touch her.
She doesn’t pull away. That’s all I get, but it’s enough.
I lean in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead. Not where I want to be, but where I’m allowed to be.
And I walk away before I can push for more than she’s ready to give. Because for the first time since I screwed this all up, I think I might actually have a chance of earning my wife back.