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My shoes squish and squeak as I walk down the hallway to my brother and Lana’s apartment. I call for them when I get inside but receive no answer. Only then do I remember they went to Zane’s friend Lucian’s place for dinner. It gives me plenty of time to get myself in order before they arrive home. An hour and a half later, they joined me in the living room after they put the boys to bed.
“When do you move into your apartment?” Lana asks, not suspecting anything.
I toss the magazine I am reading onto the coffee table. “In two weeks. I’m sorry to put you out.”
“You’re not putting us out,” Zane says.
“You’re not,” Lana repeats. “We like having you here.”
Zane puts his arm around Lana and kisses her on the cheek. “Are you going to tell us what happened with Foster?”
I begin to pick at my nails. “Not yet.”
They’ve been asking for the past few weeks, but it hurt too much to voice, and I was afraid to break down. I’ve done so much crying over Foster, and I want the wound caused today to heal a little before I reveal the truth. I can’t yet think about handling their disappointment.
“I’m sorry, but I’m happy it’s over. He was the wrong guy for you,” Zane says.
I look up at my brother, glaring slightly. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t only his fault. We both had a hand in it ending.”
“Foster Black would only drag you down. Look at the headache he has on his hands. I’m glad I never took money from him.”
His words add to my fatigue. Despite it barely being nine-thirty, I rise from the couch, telling them, “I’m going to bed.”
“Do you need anything?” Lana asks.
“No, I’m fine.” I hurry from the room, closing the door to Zane’s office behind me. His couch is lumpy, but it is home for now. At least I have some privacy.
Two weeks later, I am fully moved into my apartment. It is solely mine, and so were the bills, meaning I will need to become financially responsible. My home now takes top priority, and I consider cutting up my credit cards. I still have a small six-figure nest egg in my bank account after using half for the down payment. It wasn’t a bad start for someone my age.
Emma and Rory just left after they helped me decorate and get my apartment in order. The place has two bedrooms, the second smaller than the master. For the time being, I’m going to use it as an office. One of the first things I purchased was a sofa bed, so it can be used if I have an overnight guest.
I am settling in front of the television with a bowl of cereal when I decide to check my bank account. Bills will start coming in fast and furious within the next few weeks, so I want to set up automatic payments for my mortgage to keep me on track.
I first log into my mortgage account to check the balance and get my payment data entered into the system. When it opens, I gasp when I see my mortgage has a zero balance. Upon checking, it seems my apartment was paid off in full a few days ago. There is only one person who could do this.
Anger twists in my belly. I didn’t want anything from him! I clench my jaw as I log into my bank account, and as I suspect, he’s been there too. My account is now at a balance of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, the original agreed upon total for eighteen months of our fake marriage.
“Fuck!” I scream as I snatch my phone from the glass coffee table. I quickly scroll through my contacts and jam my finger on Foster’s name, calling his cell first, which goes to voicemail. I try it once more before I call the office.
“Mr. Black’s office, this is Mark.”
“Mark, it’s Paige,” I almost snarl. “Is Mr. Black in?”
“He is, but he left me instructions not to be disturbed.”
“This is urgent. Would you mind?”
“Have you tried his cell?”
“Twice, and it went to voicemail both times.”
“For a reason.”
I swallow hard. “Excuse me?”
Mark sighs into the phone. “Hold, please.”
The seconds tick by, and I chew on the inside of my bottom lip, waiting for what seems like an eternity.
