“The house is fully paid off. You’ll still be responsible for property taxes, but luckily for you, California is below the national rate.” She says it like I’m not that lucky.
Fully. Paid. Off.
I feel like I’m living in a multiverse. I imagine parts of my body getting stuck; my heart and lungs staying in this house, writing novels by the beach, while my brain and hands go to New York. I mentally glitch back to the present.
“Why don’t we discuss this over a meal. You’re gonna need some time to process all of this,” he says in a low voice by my ear. I feel the heat of his breath brush the sensitive spot on my neck, a strand of hair bristles slightly. In any other scenario, I’d find it suggestive, but I know he’s only doing it so Emily won’t hear.
I manage a nod.
“Thank you so much for your help, Emily. Blair’s going to take some time to weigh her options, but we’ll notify you as soon as we decide. Lovely meeting you.” He gives her one last dimpled smile. I look at her and nod like, “Yeah, what he said.”
“Oh! Okay,” Emily stutters. “I’ll lock up then. Good luck thinking.”
And with that, Declan throws his arm over my shoulder and ushers me out the door. I’m too dazed to notice that his arm is over my shoulders until much, much later.
He walks me through the front yard, which I would usually take a moment to marvel at, but I follow his lead all the way to my car, eyes unseeing.
“Actually”—he gestures for me to switch spots with him—“I’ll drive.”
“Huh?” I mumble, feeling far away from reality.
“I’ll drive. You need to think.”
I nod numbly and choose to crawl over the center console rather than get out like a normal person to reach the passenger seat.
I hear Declan’s deep, gravelly chuckle from behind me before he sinks into the driver’s seat and closes the door.
“Jeez,” he says, moving the seat back. “It can’t be safe to sit this close to the wheel.”
Despite the mix of panic and confusion swirling through me, I laugh. I laugh so hard that I have to place a hand over my stomach to recenter myself. He starts to drive, I’m not sure where, and I keep laughing. I can’t stop.
“Blair,” Declan says, starting to realize I’m no longer laughing at his comment.
I keep laughing. Tears form in the corners of my eyes.
“Blair,” he repeats in a stern voice, but nothing can stop the spiral of emotions I’m descending into.
“Whoo! I’m sorry,” I say, wiping the tears that threaten to fall. “This is just too good, isn’t it?”
“What’s too good?”
“All of this!” I gesture wildly to the houses we’re passing. “Look at that house.”
He looks to the right.
“One million dollars. Look at that house.” I point to the left. “Probably, hmm, let me guess: one million dollars. And guess what else? One of them is mine!” I throw my head back and cackle, the part of my brain that cares about social cues completely short-circuiting.
Declan is silent, his jaw muscles clenching as he lets me experience this weird stress response. First, laughing at the funeral, and now this? I was learning new things about myself.
“Oh, and even better. You own one of them too.” My voice takes on a quality I’ve never heard before. It’s biting, the way I knowingly remark on something unspoken between us, traces of anger peeking through.
“Blair.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I know this is all really overwhelming.”
“Yeah!” I cut him off. “And you know what else is really overwhelming about the whole thing?” I don’t wait for him to respond. “The fact that you were my best friend my entire life and now I don’t even know how you ended up in the house across from mine. It’s actually kind of funny if you think about it. I mean, what are the odds I don’t see you for four years and then suddenly my aunt dies and I live across the street from you? It’s like the world’s practical joke on us. You just can’t escape me even after stonewalling me out of your life like I was a disease you needed to avoid. But you know what’s even worse? What’s worse is the fact that I still feel our…” I can’t conjure words for the first time during my outburst. “I still feel our… our bond.” I wave my hands ironically like I’m describing something make-believe. “I don’t know, Declan. I just want to know how we ended up like this.”
I say it all. Everything I’ve been holding back since seeing him again for the first time. I say it to the side of hisfrustratingly perfect profile in one broken, garbled mess as he stares at the road.
Silence stretches on, the sound of tires bumping down the road our only song.
