Bethany huffed out a breath. “How am I supposed to react when you’re springing this on us out of nowhere?” she said to Tristan. “I can’t just snap my fingers and have all my stuff moved out.”
“Yeah, actually, you can,” he countered. “Money talks and you have it. Or at least you should.”
“Besides, it’s not out of nowhere,” their grandfather added. “Tristan has been talking about this for a while. Apparently, you weren’t taking him seriously.”
His mother’s father was in his early eighties and was as mentally sharp as someone half his age. His salt and pepper hair was cut low, and he was dressed in a black tracksuit, looking healthier than Tristan had ever seen him.
“Or he’s only talked about it when I’m in Philadelphia,” Bethany countered and stomped over to the refrigerator in her high-heel boots.
“That reminds me,” Tristan said. “I’m also planning to put the Philly condo up for sale at the end of the month. So, I suggest you move your stuff out of there too.”
Bethany had just grabbed orange juice from the refrigerator and whirled around to face him. “Seriously, Tristan?” she yelled and slammed the bottle on the counter with a thud. “That’s in less than three weeks! You could’ve given me more notice.”
“You’re right. I probably should’ve told you that, since I’ve retired and have moved back to Chicago, I’m selling the properties in Philly. Everything in the condo is mine. So, moving the few clothes and personal items you have there shouldn’t take much.”
He loved his family, and more than anything, he enjoyed giving them the type of life all of them had dreamed of. His parents and grandfather, as well as Quincy, had never asked for much. Still, a year after joining the NFL, Tristan had purchased the family house, a huge, eight-bedroom, ten-bathroom, nine-thousand square foot home in Hinsdale, a suburb of Chicago. The place was large enough for all of them to live comfortably without feeling like they were on top of each other.
This was something they’d talked about for years prior to him entering the NFL. So when the home was purchased, they all moved in. Though Tristan only lived there occasionally during the off season, it always felt like home. As for the condo in Philly, he lived there those first couple of years. But when they started the nonprofit and hired Bethany, she split her time between Chicago and Philadelphia. Tristan let her move into the two-bedroom condo, and he purchased a house for himself.
“So where is everyone going?” Bethany asked in a calmer tone though she was still glaring at him.
“We’re getting a smaller place. Something more manageable,” their mother said. “For years I’ve said we don’t need all this space, especially since you kids are rarely here. And none of you have blessed us with grandchildren,” she added with a pointed look at each of them, which they both ignored. “Three or four bedrooms is enough for me, your father, and Papa.”
Instead of staying at the family house, Tristan was currently renting a luxury apartment. He loved his privacy, and though he had his own space at the big house, it wasn’t the same. When he moved back to Chicago, he had needed time and solitude to figure out how to embrace his new reality. He was only thirty-four and hadn’t planned on retiring this soon. He’d still been dealing with the shock of his world turning upside down.
But now he had a plan. While winning Cree back, he wanted to have his own space for them to get to know each other again.
The real estate agent he contracted with would be working to find something for him, as well as his parents. Quincy had only lived in the family house for a year before buying his own place. That left Bethany, who he already knew would try to stall.
“I suggest you start looking for a place,” Tristan said and stood.
“With what money?” his sister grumbled.
“Young lady, you need to fix your attitude,” their father ground out as he stood to his six-two height. “Your brother has set you up financially with a job at the nonprofit and money in the bank. Surely, you didn’t think you’d be mooching off him for the rest of your life, did you?”
By the expression on her face, she had. Unbelievable. Not only did she have a great paying job doing fundraising for Tristan’s nonprofit, but he’d set up a trust fund for her. She’d had access to it since she was twenty-five, and it was enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life. That is, if she didn’t spend it all on clothes, shoes and other accessories.
“Spoiled brat,” Tristan mumbled.
He started out of the room but slowed and glanced over his shoulder. “Bethany, you either get with the program or you’re going to find all your designer crap out on the front lawn when these houses sell.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
He sauntered out of the room thinking about the next step in his Win-Cree-Back plan. He had Cree, the lawyer, back in his life. Now he just needed Cree, the woman, back.
Chapter Eight
Cree jotted down a few notes regarding Tristan’s endorsement offers that she wanted to discuss with him. She planned to suggest he request more money for one of them since they wanted to shoot three commercials within two weeks in Atlanta. Either way, she wasn’t sure he’d agree to it since he’d been adamant about not traveling much.
She sat back and rocked in her chair, wondering why he was so against traveling, especially with the money they were offering. Of course, her first thought was that he had a woman here in Chicago who he didn’t want to be away from for long. However, Cree nixed that idea. One thing she knew about Tristan was that he was a one-woman man. She was sure that hadn’t changed. No way he’d touch her or flirt with her the way he had the other day if there was someone else in his life.
He wasn’t that guy, and Cree would bet her life savings on that.
“And why am I even thinking about this?” she mumbled to herself, frustrated with the way her thoughts had gone.
The worst part about that was she really wanted to know, but why? Why did she even care? When he came in to sign the contract, she’d made it clear the two of them working together again would be strictly business. It had to be that way. She couldn’t fall for his handsome face or the nostalgia of him being back in her life again.
