by JA Huss
“Likewise, Mr. Burkhart,” I manage. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Please. Call me Allen. So you’re getting married soon?”
“Yes, Allen,” Joey says, then smiles at me, a little hint of shyness in his expression. “At least that’s my plan.” Then he takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
I smile at Joey and Jesus. My heart beats kinda fast at that little gesture. Joey Boston is a very nice-looking man. So are his friends. Even though Wald’s real name is Waldo and that’s just all kinds of wrong, he’s a hot dude. He’s got the tech skills to go with that name, but he’s got all the hot guy optics too.
And Wald has been looking at me weird. Not funny weird, or even suspicious weird.
But sexy weird.
His attention kinda made me shy when I noticed it. And that’s quite an accomplishment. I’m not really a shy girl. I’m not really that outgoing girl I told them I was during the interview. But I don’t scare easy. I’ve been through too much to scare easily.
And Huck. Don’t get me started. Clearly his parents had an image in mind when they came up with that name. He looks like a Huck. And he was all kinds of hands-y every time I got near him. Touching my arm, or leaning in close to say things.
And Joey. Definitely the most mysterious of the three. He kept his distance until just right now when he reached for my hand. But I could feel his stare even when my back was turned.
I have their attention and they’ve certainly got mine too.
This whole experience promises to be very interesting, to say the least.
But I need to be careful. Because even though I asked for friendship as payment and they agreed, that’s not how you make real friends.
Real friends require a lot more than fake memories. It’s a whole bunch of shared experiences, and stress, and ups and downs.
And we don’t have any of that. So they can tell me we’ll be friends all they want.
I’m not ready to believe it.
“Well, this is what we’re looking at today,” Allen says, then pans his hand at a large stone house situated on the side of a hill. There’s a lot of greenery in the front yard. Hedges, and perfectly manicured topiaries, and flower beds, and ivy climbing up old thick-trunked trees.
There’s a stone wall surrounding the property, about four feet high with a wrought-iron fence on top that brings the total height to over seven feet.
“I like the gate,” Joey says. “And the wall. I can see Maisy playing here. It’s like a kid’s front-yard fantasy. And it’s safe.” Then he looks at me. “But do you think it feels like a prison?”
I look at Joey, all concerned about his little girl feeling trapped inside this beautiful garden vision. “I love it,” I say. “What child would not want to grow up here? But let’s look inside.”
“Oh, there’s a lot to see here,” Allen says. “And it’s vacated. The current owners had to move on. It’s been on the market for a while.”
“Why?” I ask.
“The price,” Allen says, shrugging. “Not many people in the market for a seven-million-dollar house.”
“Holy—”
“Stop it,” Joey says, squeezing my hand. “We don’t care about price.”
And hell. OK, Joey Boston. I knew you had money, but damn.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go look.”
We walk to the front, Allen punches in a code, and the decorative wrought-iron gate begins to slide open.
“Fancy,” I say as we walk up the steep driveway.
“Very fancy, Miss Alder. But practical too. And, as you can see, Mr. Boston, there is no way to mistake this front yard for a prison.”
He’s right. You can’t see it from the street, but the whole front yard has been landscaped with wide, green-lawn terraces. And the stone retaining walls match the house and the wall surrounding the property.
It sort of feels like a castle. Fit for a princess, I silently muse.
“There’s a little maze that winds up and down the terraces,” Allen says. “It’s nothing to us grown-ups, but I can imagine a child getting lost in all these shrubs, and hedges, and fruit trees.”
“I love it,” Joey says. “I really, really love it. What do you think, Brooke?”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to take it all in, trying to look everywhere at once. “It’s a dream garden, for sure.”
I take a moment to picture what my life would’ve been like if I had grown up in this fairytale garden.
I try not to think about that stuff too much. The past. The things I missed out on. I try to concentrate on the things I had. Have. I try to remind myself that I’m lucky. It’s not a typical kind of lucky, that’s for sure. But it could’ve been a lot worse.
So I don’t feel jealous that Joey Boston’s little darling will get all the things I dreamed of as a girl. But I do still long for it. That fantasy life every kid wants and most will never have.
“Just wait until you see the back,” Allen winks.
We continue up the driveway and Allen points to a carriage house. “That’s the garage. Detached, unfortunately. But there’s a surprise inside. I’ll show you that later.” Then he waves us up towards the front porch, which spans the front of the house and has a wide overhang. “There’s an entrance down by the garage too. So don’t worry, Miss Alder. You won’t have to carry groceries up these steps.”
The front door is massive and arched, made of thick planks of deep brown wood, and when Allen opens it to the foyer beyond, I’m taken aback by how welcoming it is.
“Very impressive,” Joey says. “I’m blown away already.”
“It’s very homey for a large house,” I say.
“The floors are wide-planked hickory. Original, of course.”
I gaze around, then realize Joey is still holding my hand.
Is that weird? Should I let go?
But he gives my hand a squeeze and then lifts them both up to point at the stairs. “Now that is a staircase.”
“Fit for a royal family like yours.” Allen chuckles, buttering him up.
We wander into the front sunroom as Allen starts rambling off details. Five bedrooms, five bathrooms, media room, office, library, chef’s kitchen. And every bit of it is top-notch.
“The master is on the main level,” Allen continues as he walks us through the kitchen. “On the other side of the house. It has its own wing. Two bedrooms are upstairs. And in the basement there’s basically an in-law suite with two more bedrooms. There’s also a game room down there.”
We go upstairs first and I swear, fate is fucking with us. Or maybe Wald is right and this is some kind of virtual reality joke. Because there’s a nursery up there and a little girl’s bedroom complete with canopy bed, and white mosquito netting, and flowing sheer white curtains covering the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is perfect,” Joey says.
His smile is big and wide when I look at him and I think to myself… Damn. I wish he really was mine. Not for the house, either. Or the money.
I wish he was mine because he’s excited about this house. He’s picturing his daughter living in this bedroom. He’s picturing her playing out in that front garden. He’s imagining his whole life in this moment.
You just don’t meet a lot of men like that these days.
Downstairs we find the master suite. And it is truly a suite. A sitting room, a bedroom, two walk-in closets, and a bathroom that looks like a spa. Deep, free-standing tub, a slate-tiled shower, and heated stone floors.
“One more surprise,” Allen says. “Then we’ll look at the back yard.”
We follow him down to the walk-out basement where we find an entire suite. Almost another whole house. Kitchen, and bedrooms, and French doors that lead outside.
Joey starts heading that direction but Allen says, “That’s not the surprise. Follow me.”
He takes us past a wine cellar, a billiards table, and finally to a door that looks like a vault.
“A safe room,” Joey says.
&nbs
p; We wait as Allen swings open the thick, steel door. “It’s a literal safe. For jewelry, or gold, or art, or whatever. And it’s fireproof too. But it’s also a family safe room. If anyone ever threatens you there are secret passages in the walls that lead down here. And it’s even got a small bunk room and a makeshift kitchen.”
“You’re shitting me.” Joey laughs.
“No. The previous owners were… well, paranoid is probably the most generous word to call them.” He chuckles. “But you have to admit, it’s a cool feature everyone wants, but only crazy people actually pay for.” Then he winks. “It’s not included in the price. This isn’t worth much as far as resale value goes. So consider it a perk. But the best part is that there’s this…”
He presses the heel of his hand on a wall panel and it pops open.
“A door?” I say.
“It goes outside. But here’s the really cool part. And why that detached garage is no big deal.” Allen pauses to smile. “There’s a passageway that goes under the driveway. And there’s even an automated cart and dumbwaiter system that will haul all your groceries right up to the kitchen.”
“Sold!” I say, giggling.
“I knew you’d like that,” Allen says. “Come on, I’ll show you. And then we’ll look at the back garden and talk about it.”
We follow him down the passage. It’s dark, but there are tiny lights built into the floor that light up as we pass. And it’s a short walk to the other side of the tunnel.
He demonstrates the cart system and the dumbwaiter that will carry groceries for me, then shows us around the four-car garage and finally we end up out in the back yard.
“The pool has an impenetrable cover,” Allen says, then demonstrates by walking on it. “No child safety issues here. And there’s security on the cover. It even comes with an app. So if your precious children ever try to swim without permission, you’ll be alerted.”
Our precious children.
I dwell on that statement a little too long, imagining his daughter and, since there’s a nursery upstairs too, a baby.
My baby?
So stupid. But that’s why they call it a fantasy, right?
Anyway, there’s also an outdoor kitchen and a cabana. Allen demonstrates how the glass walls can fold away in the summer so it’s almost like a small covered pavilion.
“Well, this place certainly has everything,” I say.
“And then some,” Joey agrees.
“I’m not sure anything will top this,” I say.
He squeezes my hand and I realize he’s been holding it the entire time. “Do we even need to look at anything else?”
“I don’t know. It’s up to you, Joey. The price—”
“Fuck the price. Do you love it?”
“I love it,” I say.
“I love it too.” He looks at Allen. “I want everything. Even the furniture. How soon can we get this done?”
We’re silent as we walk back to his car. And we sit there, inside, without turning it on. Allen honks at us as he drives away and still we say nothing.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
He looks at me. Smiles. “Us,” he says. “In that house.”
I stifle a laugh. “It’s just pretend, though.”
“It’s yours,” he says. “You can have the house, remember?”
“I’m not going to take this house away from your daughter. This is her house now.”
“Well, you stay as long as you want. It really is your house. I’m putting your name on the deed.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he says. Then he takes my hand and squeezes it again. “I know I don’t. But… I walked through that place picturing us, you know. And Maisy. And hell, I was even trying to find a place for Huck and Wald. I was thinking—will they take the basement? Or is that dumb?”
“I think they would love that basement. And are you kidding me? Wald is gonna take one look at those secret rooms and come in his pants.”
Joey bursts out laughing. “So fucking true.” And then he shakes his head at me. “I’m crazy, aren’t I? This is crazy.”
I nod. Because there’s no point in denying the obvious.
“I just want this, Brooke. I can’t even explain this desire in my heart to be this little girl’s father. It’s… it’s taken me by surprise, actually. So please, don’t judge me right now.”
“I’m not judging you,” I say.
“I know. I can tell. But you should be. You should have all kinds of alarms ringing in your head right now.” He pauses to frown. “Why don’t you?”
I shrug. My body is still buzzing from the experience of walking through that house. He waits. Like maybe he’s a patient man. Or maybe he knows I have an answer, it’s just taking me a minute to change my irrational feelings into logical words.
And it works, I guess. This pause of his. Because suddenly there they are.
“I don’t know you,” I say. “Or your daughter. But I was a little girl once and I know what they dream about. Every little girl wants a dad like you. What child would not want to live in this beautiful home and play in these beautiful gardens? It’s no accident that I put myself in a park when you guys asked what I was doing last weekend. And it’s no accident that I started our origin story in one either. A childhood surrounded by natural beauty, and nice things, and a family that takes care of all the bad stuff so it never touches you, and—I don’t know. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I would watch movies as a kid. Like… oh, God.” I shake my head and lower my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but… like The Parent Trap. Did you ever see The Parent Trap?”
He smiles and nods.
“The new one, the old one. Doesn’t even matter. I wanted to be those girls. I wanted the huge townhouse in the city and the huge mansion in the country too. I wanted the beautiful mom, and the handsome dad, and to be surrounded by people who loved me. And to have enough resources at my fingertips where a caper like that was possible. And… a twin. Or a best friend. Because I never had many friends. I have always wanted a partner in crime. That was my perfect childhood dream, I guess. And I never got it. I didn’t grow up that way. And I’m not implying that my life was bad. Most of it wasn’t. It was weird for sure. But not bad. It’s just… I wish I had this instead, ya know?”
I sigh, because I’m not making any sense. That was an incoherent ramble of confusion and he’s frowning even deeper now.
“No,” he says. “I do get it. I didn’t have this either. I grew up in a fucking office building. I had a family. Once. Long time ago. But I barely remember it. I think that’s why I’m so determined to get her back. I want her life to be perfect. I want it to be everything mine wasn’t. I want it to be real. Not an illusion like mine was.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too. If I can’t have it, then…” I shrug. “I’m happy that she will. So…”
“So…” he says. “I think we just bought a house.”
“Yeah?” I ask, giggling a little.
“Yeah. We’ll sign the papers tomorrow afternoon and move in tomorrow night.”
“And Maisy will be one step closer to her perfect childhood. All we need now is the fake memories and social accounts.” I laugh.
“But you know what?” Joey says, starting the car. “Now we have one that’s not fake.” He beams at me. “The day we bought our first house.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN - JOEY
When we get back to the penthouse Wald and Huck are both talking a mile a minute.
“Slow down,” I say, smiling and laughing. Because they’re smiling and laughing and I can’t help but join in.
“We got the dude for the memories,” Wald says.
“And the chick for socials,” Huck adds.
“So now all we gotta do is take a bunch of pics of ourselves in different outfits and send them to him,” Wald continues.
“And then we write up a bunch of posts, one for each pic, and our girl will post them on our new
accounts with backdates,” Huck adds.
“Well, we bought a house!” Brooke exclaims, their excitement contagious. “And you’re gonna love it. We can move in tomorrow!”
“Us too?” Huck asks.
“If you want,” I say. “I mean, hell. I’ve been crashing here with you guys for over a month now. The least I can do is offer up the same.”
“There’s plenty of room,” Brook says. “You guys can have whatever rooms you like, but there’s a whole separate house in the basement.”
“And a pool,” I say.
“And Wald,” Brooke says, walking over to him and grabbing his upper arm. “There are hidden passageways and secret safe rooms!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Wald says.
“It’s true.” I laugh. “It’s like the virtual reality players said… ‘Hmmm. What should we give this house to make all four of these assholes happy?’”
Wald points to me. “Don’t fuck around about that shit.” Then he looks up at the ceiling. “They’re probably watching us right now.”
“Well, I like the idea of us all staying together,” Huck says. “And I’ve got plans for all the places we’ve been and things we’ve done over the past three years. We need about ten changes of clothes each—”
“Oh, no!” Brooke says. “I don’t have anything here. I have to go home.”
“I’ll take you,” Wald offers.
Brooke looks at me. “That OK with you?”
“Brooke. I’m not really your boyfriend. And it’s Wald, anyway. I don’t care. I’ll stay here with Huck and start writing social posts.”
“Yeah, we got a lot of posts to write,” Huck says.
“You’re sure?” Brooke asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“I’m just double-checking. That’s all.”
Wald and I trade a glance.
He likes her. I can tell. Hell, she can tell. That’s why she’s asking me if it’s OK to be alone with him. But even if Brooke Alder was my real girlfriend I can’t say I’d care if Wald took a shot with her.
We’ve never been possessive about women like that.
There is us. And there is them. We know the difference between the two.
