“Come with me,” he urged. “Arizona is beautiful this time of the year. I want to show you my home state. And if I’m going to occupy the same space as my dad, I could use the support.”
Phil couldn’t believe she was actually contemplating this. Not only was she contemplating it, she was going to say yes.
What happened to learning from her mistakes? This had potential disaster written all over it. She would be out of her element and completely at Jamal’s mercy, because God knew she couldn’t afford to fly herself back home if she had to quickly return to Gauthier.
Yet, despite the objections bouncing back and forth in her mind, Phil heard herself say, “Okay, I’ll join you.”
“This house looks amazing!” Mya shouted from the front lawn.
Jamal waved at her from his perch on the ladder, earning a stern frown from Phylicia. He tightened the final screw in the antique hanging light fixture they had found at a salvage yard in Mississippi last weekend, then he made his way down the ladder.
Jamal laughed as Mya waddled up the porch steps. He pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek and motioned to her stomach. “How much longer until you let this baby out?” he asked.
“Five weeks, and not a moment later,” she said. “If she’s not ready to come out, I’m going in after her.” She gestured to the freshly painted porch. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Thanks,” both he and Phylicia said at the same time. They looked at each other and chuckled.
“The contractors did a really good job. I was afraid the work would be sloppy,” Phylicia said.
“That’s because you think anybody’s work but your own is sloppy,” Mya teased.
“Because it usually is,” Phylicia quipped.
“There’s not much left to do,” Jamal added. “A few touch-ups here and there, but that’s it. The furniture will be delivered the day after we get back from Arizona.”
“Ah, yes,” Mya said, dragging out the word. “Arizona. You two leave in the morning, right?”
Phylicia rolled her eyes. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it over with.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mya returned.
Jamal’s mouth twitched in amusement as he watched the two of them go at it. His phone rang, so he stepped away, leaving them to their debate.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hello, Mr. Johnson.” Jamal recognized his Realtor’s voice. “There’s been an offer on the Saint Charles Avenue property. Have you decided whether or not you want it?”
“I…” Jamal started, but his voice fell silent. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted.
On one hand, it would be the ultimate payback to go to Arizona with the bill of sale to the building of his very own architectural firm in his hands…and shove it down his old man’s throat.
But if he bought that building, Jamal knew there would be no more excuses.
And if this venture didn’t work out,hewould be the one who would have to eat his own words. His hand balled into a fist. He could just envision his father’s mocking, triumphant face.
“Mr. Johnson?” Tiffany prompted him.
“I…uh…I need just a few more days,” Jamal said. “I’m going out of town for the weekend, but I’ll have an answer by Monday.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Johnson? You’re taking a chance at losing this property. Are you sure you’re willing to risk that?”
Not only was he willing to risk it, Jamalhopedsomething like that would happen. If another buyer scooped up the house, he’d have to go back to square one and start the long process of searching for another suitable location. He would be off the hook…at least for a few more months.
Disgust churned in his gut, even as relief sank into his bones. Could he really be this much of a damn coward?
“Just”—he cleared his throat—”just give me the weekend. I’ll have an answer for you by Monday.”
He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket with more force than necessary. He took a moment to shake off the self-loathing eating away at him before walking over to the Victorian’s east lawn, where Phylicia was showing Mya the new gazebo that had been constructed this week.
