Chapter 2 #2
The chandelier in the entryway looks handmade from stained glass pieces and is a near identical replica for a chandelier I also pinned.
Then there’s the light oak flooring and floral wallpaper in the entryway with a chair rail in a dark stain, and just… so many fucking details that I would have picked out myself if I’d been allowed to.
“So in here, we re-did the mudroom…” He starts listing off all the improvements they’ve made, and I’m assuming the ‘they’ in question are the other friends my brother was inseparable from. I knew they started a construction company, but I guess I never thought about what that really meant.
I tune Arbor out as I run my hand along the beautiful finishes, taking in the incredibly tasteful lighting choices and the décor they must have hired somebody to stage for the house sale, and I get an overwhelming rush within me to live here.
Everything about this house feels like it was custom made for me, and the thought of selling it to strangers actually twists my insides a little, but there’s no way I’d ever be able to afford a place this nice, especially not with all the upgrades they’ve clearly put in.
And the kitchen? Forget it. I can’t even look at it.
I go straight to the back door, desperate to get fresh air, because I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This house isn’t mine, and it never will be. I can’t afford to be this unprofessional right after starting over; I’ll tarnish my reputation without even really trying.
Fuck. The backyard is even more perfect.
There’s more of the same wild abandon of wildflowers in patches around the perimeter of the fence where bees are buzzing around happily, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the vibrant blooms. There’s also a colorful brick walkway that also looks hand painted, leading to a hammock hung in the world’s most perfect location, and a small shed that’s even been fit with drywall and looks like a tiny mini house that matches the main one.
It’s exactly what I always wanted; a quiet place to go and read so no one could find me.
“Aster? You okay? You hate it, don’t you? Look, they told me it was a bad idea—"
I cut him off with a wave of my hand, forcing myself to take a deep breath and fake the hell out of it.
When I think I’m mostly ready to face him, I prop my hands on my hips and pinch my skin under my top so hard I know it’ll leave a mark, but I need that little bite of pain to keep me from saying or doing something incredibly stupid.
“It’s beautiful, Arbor. Really. You did a hell of a job.
Looks nothing like the house I remember— you must have put a ton of work into this.
It’s going to make a family really happy.
You should be proud. I, uh, should probably get back to the office though.
I need to start pulling comps so I can figure out what we should list it at.
Do you have any idea what you were hoping to get for it? ”
He stares at me for a minute, pose mirroring mine, minus the stilettos and the pencil skirt, and then seems to deflate. “No, not really. Figured you’d know what to do.”
Why does he seem so upset by that statement? “Come on, I’ll get you back.”
He walks close behind me through the house, and I can’t help but pause at the base of the stairs, dying to know what the top floor looks like before I leave.
My feet are moving before I can ask Arbor if it’s even okay for me to invade his space this way, a desperation urging me forward.
They’ve got one room set up as a beautiful guest room with a nature theme, and I almost weep at how badly I want a life where there’s room for guests to come visit. Then it’s on to check out the other bedrooms and bathroom, before getting to the master bedroom.
I don’t even have words to describe the way the room makes me feel. I do know I need to kick off my shoes before entering, though.
There are beautiful rugs scattered all over the hardwood floors to warm the space up, the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life with a light, muslin quilt over the top in a soft gray, and every texture of everything in the room has my fingers itching to reach out and touch it.
The lighting is warm and glowing, and everything looks so damn cozy that I know I’ll be trying to emulate the feeling they’ve built into this room with every place I live from here on out.
The bathroom is just obscene, nicer than any spa I’ve ever seen on any tv show or home reno show, far nicer than anything I’ll ever own, and all at once it’s like my ex’s betrayal washes over me anew, reminding me how close I was to having a life where I could live in a cozy home with a partner that I was with for better or worse.
I’m sure I’m giving Arbor whiplash with my reactions, but I physically can’t stand in this house another second. I don’t know why, but I’m having a very strong reaction to it, and it’s painful to see something so perfect that I’ll never have.
I know I should be grateful I even have a place to stay, for free no less, and the thought that Arbor of all people seems to have accidentally built my dream home, and I have to give it to somebody else and live in the same town as it, knowing how lovely it is?
I feel like throwing a tantrum. Obviously, I’m an adult and can’t do that, so I do the next best thing and I…
sprint back to the office, sans shoes. I take back alleys and avoid roads so that the truck I’m sure Arbor is riding in won’t be able to find me and call me on my weird behavior, relieved when I get to the real estate office and he’s nowhere to be seen.
But then again, neither is my purse, or my phone, or the keys to the building…because I’m a fucking dumbass and left them on the counter at Arbor’s house.