Page 62 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“Your work ethic. Your attention to detail. And your natural problem-solving abilities.”

My chest warms at her compliment. “Well, thank you.”

She forges ahead without acknowledging my thanks. “But do you know what would make you agreatrealtor?” Oh. Okay. “Opening up your imagination to embraceallthe possibilities.” She spreads her hands in the air like she’s revealing a marquee. “Reaching for what you want and not even entertaining the option of failure.”

“You have a point, I suppose. But blind hope hasn’t ever really appealed to me.” Practicality and good planning are far more reliable.

“Not blind or simply wishing on a star. Trusting yourself and believing you can make things happen.” Coco abandons the imaginary marquee and focuses on me again. “Did you know the first property I sold was an empty, rundown, two-bedroom manufactured home that had been on the market for eighteenmonths? My boss gave it to me to watch it blow up in my face—an odious weasel of a man named Tony Lamont whom I recommend avoiding at all costs—but did I let it deter me?”

She answers her own question. “No. I did not. I spent a week scrubbing floors and windows and another cleaning up the lawn, planting flowers, and painting the entire inside. A third week scouring thrift shops and friends’ and relatives’ homes for mirrors, lighting, and furniture to create a vision of what the house could be.

“It wasn’t a dilapidated, unkempt hovel anymore. It was a charming starter home for a young couple. I loved that house. Iput loveinto that house. And because I did, the people I scrounged up to view it loved it too. I got two offers within a week. I made a thousand dollars and earned three new contracts.”

“So, you’re saying if I throw caution to the wind and go all in with Bobby, two other women are going to fall in love with him three weeks from now?”

She completely ignores my snarky comment. “Look, I know you have to put Matthew first, but I’ll bet he’d tell you to take a leap and trust your heart.”

I sigh and glance at my watch. “Now I actually do have to meet a client.” I stand and send Coco a warm smile. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll keep you posted.”

As I leave her office, she, of course, has to have the last word. “And I’ll start shopping for my maid of honor dress. Can we go with emerald green? It’s my best color.”

This is the second time my client is viewing this townhome north of Tampa, so I’m hoping it’s a sign that she’s close to making a decision. That’s one reason I haven’t hurried her along as she inspects every closet for the third time.

I surreptitiously glance at my watch to see it’s past four. I want to reach for my phone to make sure Matty got off the bus and is home safe, but it can wait. The worst thing I can do right now is interrupt this client’s “process.”

“What did you say the HOA fees are?”

“$300 per month,” I reply without having to look at the listing. I’ve got the thing memorized at this point. “It will be a godsend not having to do lawn work, I promise you.” I smile.

She nods. “I’m just going to look at the primary bedroom closet one more time.”

I gesture for her to go ahead.

By the time I drop her off back at the office in Coco’s BMW, it’s past five. I pull out my phone to see I have five missed calls, four from Matty and one from Bobby. Crap! I immediately pull up the phone tracking app and am baffled to see Matty’s location is his school, not our house.

“Hey, Mom,” he answers on the second ring. “I think you forgot today was the Spanish Club event after school.”

I suck in a breath and drop my head to the steering wheel. “I was supposed to pick you up at four-thirty! I completely forgot you weren’t taking the bus home today! I’m so sorry. I’m on myway right now.” I can’t believe I forgot my kid! I scramble from the driver’s seat and lock the car before racing toward the office to drop the keys off.

“No hurry. Bobby’s here and we’re hanging out.”

“Bobby, as in Bobby Rhodes?” I send an apologetic nod to Maude as I slip past her. She frowns.

Matty laughs. “Uh, how many other Bobbies do we know?”

“Good point.” I drop the keys and reverse direction.

“I called him when I couldn’t get you, and he came over, even though school won’t let me leave with him. You gotta add him to the list, Mom.”

“Right.” I hop in my Kia and turn the key in the ignition. “Um, okay. It’s going to take me another twenty minutes to get there.”

“Like I said, no hurry.” He diverts the phone from his mouth but I’m still almost rendered deaf when he yells, “Hey, Bobby! Tell them about the Detroit game!” He hurriedly mutters, “Bye, Mom,” before hanging up.

I connect my phone to the Kia’s Bluetooth and pull from the parking lot as I place a call to Bobby.

“Hey, baby,” he answers, and I swear I can hear his sexy smile in his voice.

“I fucked up.” No use mincing words.

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