I’m overreacting. I get that.
But I want that place with my whole entire soul, and somehow when there wasn’t an offer on it, it still felt like I had a chance.
Seeingaccepting backupsmeans there is no chance.
My dreams of the perfect venue in the city I love with my whole heart go up in smoke.
I’ll find another place. But he didn’thaveto sell. In fact, once upon a time, he made a promise he wouldn’t sell without exploring all the options. He explored nothing with me or, to my knowledge anyway, with his siblings. He told me once that Liam didn’t want him to sell. Everleigh wants to get married there.
And he still accepted that offer. I wonder if any of his siblings know.
He could’ve kept it in the family. It’s his legacy. It’stheirlegacy.
And he’s choosing to pawn it off to the highest bidder, or something like that.
The only reason he’d accept a backup offer is if the first one fell through, and on a mansion like this, it’ll be all cash. Whoever made a cash offer for fifteen million dollars wants that place, and the chances of them backing out of it now are exactly zero.
I can’t help but feel like this is a crack. Keeping secrets was what led to the end of things with Archer, and now I’m at a point where I’ve let myself fall for Ford. I can’t be pushed aside with the claim that it’s for my protection from theBradley name. Not again. Not when he made a promise to me. Not when I think about the history we share.
I force the window closed and get in the shower as I debate how to handle this.
I guess not at all. It’s his birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it with a fight.
It was his right to sell that house. What doesn’t sit right with me is the fact that he hasn’t bothered to tell me that it sold. It hurts.
I shake it off. Tonight’s for celebrating.
We head to the restaurant, and we’re seated in an intimate corner booth. I order a double vodka soda, and he looks at me in surprise. I guess I’m hitting it a little harder than usual, but I play it off. “What? It’s a celebration. It’s not every day your husband turns thirty.”
After we order, he glances at me. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” I say tightly.
He lets it go.
“Do you want your gift?”
“Now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “Notthat. You already got that once today.”
“I know. I’ve been wondering why it’s beenonlyonce.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Because I’m not a cum dumpster.”
“That’s a lovely image,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “What’s gotten into you?”
I clear my throat, ready to come out with the words, but something stops me. “Just work stuff. Devon and Lindsay’s wedding is in three days, and it’s my Tampa debut. There’s a lot riding on it.”
“I get that. It’ll be perfect, Tate.”
I press my lips together, and then I pull out my phone and pull up the video I spent countless hours working on. I shove it over to him and turn up the volume.
The first person in the video is me. “Happy thirtieth, husband. Here’s to thirty more years of love, laughs, adventures, and memories.” In the video, I hold up a glass, and when the glass pulls away, magically it’s Everleigh.
“Happy birthday, little bro! Remember, thirty is just a number. Some of us age gracefully, and then there’s—” She cuts off, and Dex is up next.
“Bro! Happy birthday from your older, better-looking big brother. Remember to always keep it dirty at thirty. Cheers!” He holds up a glass, and when that one moves away, it’s Liam.
