I’m trying to catch Tatum’s eye. I’m trying to give her some sort of signal to tell herno, to plainly express that we cannot possibly pull off a weddingherein six weeks.
“Yes, of course,” Tatum says, and my heart drops down into my stomach.
If she wants that money, which I know she does, then that means she needs to marry me in less than six weeks.
Fuck.
My phone starts to ring, and it’s my realtor back in Chicago. “I’m so sorry, but I need to take this,” I say, and I head inside to take the call in privacy. I wander upstairs to the top floor as I answer. “Ford Bradley.”
“Mr. Bradley, it’s Sonny Russo. I just got an offer on the mansion and wanted to share it with you.”
My chest tightens.
“It’s a little lower than asking, but I don’t think it’s unfair. There are a few pieces of furniture they’d like to keep as well as the appliances and built-ins.”
“What’s the offer, Sonny?” I ask, staring out the window at the view here.
“Fourteen.”
“That’s a million dollars lower than asking,” I say. It’s definitely unfair. They’re lowballing me, and I know what that place is worth.
“So negotiate,” he says. “If I were you, I’d take it. But I understand the attachment.”
“I’m not attached,” I hiss, and I know he only said that to get a rise out of me. “I’ll give them their concessions for fifteen.”
“I’ll take it back to them, but I think this is a mistake,” he says.
“I’m not paying you for your opinions, Sonny.” It’s more curt than I’m used to being with him, but this isn’t some backyard deal. This is a fifteen-million-dollar mansion.
“No, Mr. Bradley. You’re right. You’re not paying meat alluntil there’s a sale. That’s what I’m trying to get for you.”
“Fifteen,” I say. “Not a penny lower.”
“Yes, sir.”
I cut the call and draw in a breath as I contemplate what the fuck I’m supposed to do here, and I’m coming up short.
I know I should wait, but I need to process this through before I make a decision, and with less than six weeks to spare, I don’t have the time to make an informed decision.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I press the button to call my sister. She’s one of the few people I can confide in when times get tough, and if this isn’t tough, well…I don’t know what is.
“Ford?” she answers.
“Hey. Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all. What’s going on?”
“I just got an offer on Mom and Dad’s place.”
“How much?” she asks.
“Fourteen million.”
“I hope you said no,” she says.
I chuckle. “I did.”
“So why are you calling?”
