I take a deep breath before I respond. “I know, but you know how I grew up. I need full control over my money. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, I do. I just … get scared of going back to the little girl who was worried about debt collectors and repo men.”
Sam looks at me softly, brushing a stray hair from my face. “I get that.”
I sit up, looking straight at him. “I need to know what’s happening with our money. Especially the big stuff.”
“You will,” he assures me. “We’ll both have access to everything. We can set up alerts—every transaction, if you want. And we’ll each have our own spending money. No guilt, no questions.”
“You can’t promise that, what about for your business? Those are large purchases.”
“You’re right,” he says, lips grazing my collarbone. “I’ll still manage my business purchases and decisions. Our joint accounts—anything over fifty dollars, I’ll run by you first. Unless it’s for whipped cream. That one stays between me and the fridge.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, tugging him closer.
And I believed him.
I wipe away a tear and head into work.
This? This I can do. Property showings, phone calls, projections. It all adds up neatly. Not like my emotions, which are playing tug-of-war between my heart and my head.
I realize I forgot to bring lunch again today. Damn it, Sam.
Okay, maybe not technically his fault—but he threw my morning off, so this one’s on him too.
I walk to the café across the street, order a Diet Coke, an extra-large salad, and a cookie I’ll pretend to regret. I pay with the gift card Sam left in one of his little offerings. I may be furious, but I’m not about to waste free money.
As I turn to sit down, I spot the last person I want to see. Holly.
She waves sheepishly. “Hi. Can we talk?” She’s curled into the corner booth in a soft pink cardigan, looking more like a nervous younger sister than the woman holding seventy-five thousand dollars of my future.
I glance around. The place is packed—no easy escape routes. I nod curtly and sit across from her.
“I only have twenty minutes. I’m on the clock.” The edge in my tone makes her flinch, and I regret it immediately.
“I get that,” she hurries to say. “I came here to ask for your help.”
I blink at her. She can’t be serious. “For help?” I repeat slowly.
She nods.
“What else could you possibly need from me? Between the extra money Sam’s been sending and the $75,000 he gave …” I shake my head. “Don’t act like I don’t know we’ve been covering more than we agreed to on your grandparents mortgage deal.”
Holly shifts uncomfortably.
“It was supposed to be a thousand. We bumped it to fifteen hundred when you went back to school. I agreed because it meant we'd be debt free faster." I let out a short breath. "But clearly that wasn't enough." I lean forward. "So where does it actually go?"
“I didn’t … save it,” she admits. “Not like I should have.”
She lets out a breath. “Dinners, clothes, a couple bags I didn’t need. And then … Mandy.”
She glances up at me, bracing. “Her parents cut her off six months ago. She said it was temporary, just until things picked up, so I covered some things for her too. Rent, dinners, stuff like that.”
Holly shrinks in on herself. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time,” she says quietly. “It was just … little things. And Mandy said once everything took off, it would all even out.” Her voice trails off and she picks at the edge of her sleeve. “I thought that’s just how this works. You spend now, make it back later.”
She looks at me, really looks at me, and something in me snaps. Fine, if she doesn't get it, I will make her understand.
“Your mother and Mandy like to remind me I didn’t come from money. But what you don’t know is that I have severe financial anxiety. I lose sleep. I double-check every number. I’ve done therapy. I have systems in place, like spreadsheets, to help me cope. Because growing up, there were months where heat was a luxury.”
Holly inhales sharply. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice trembling. “I wasn’t cruel to you, but I was dismissive. You didn’t act like Mama. You weren’t into fashion or parties like Mandy. I guess I just thought you were … boring.”
