Page 16 of The Boyfriend Gamble

As I looked at Josette, a profound realization struck.

I’m not in love with you.

Not the way a husband should love a wife.

This probably should’ve occurred to me before my twenty-fifth birthday, but I’d been sliding through life waiting for my inheritance. I’d graduated from university with a teaching degree, and taught French Immersion at Cedar Street Elementary in Mission City, British Columbia. I’d lived at home while building a little nest egg to pay for renovations and decorations of the house I’d acquire when I turned twenty-five.

I hadn’t known it’d bethishouse, but I’d kept my eye on listings for years, so I had some idea. Josette and I had discussed this day hundreds of times.

Given our mothers had grown up in abject poverty, having secure futures for their children was critical. Josette and Jacob’s parents helped them save money, but Wally and I were taken care of by my father’s life insurance policy that provided an annuity for our mother and a lump-sum payment for both Wally and me.

Wally had taken his money and bought landscaping equipment. He’d started his own business three years ago, and now the company was a growing concern. In turn, he’d partnered with an arborist, and the two often bid for larger projects.

I liked August the arborist. Oh, and his employee, Julian. Two yummy men. Who’d recently hooked up and were now engaged.

A lot of the guys I knew were doing that. Or it felt like they were.

Which made me kind of envious, even though I didn’t have anything to be jealous of. I had Josette. Now we had a house.

Everything was perfect.

Except it wasn’t.

Still, we headed up the gravel driveway to the wood A-frame cabin in the woods. Well, ten acres of mostly woodland with a creek running through the back of the property. Far more rural than the identical houses we’d grown up in near the center of town.

The sturdy porch wrapped around the front of the house, and I could envision sitting on a rocker and waiting for guests to arrive.

Well, Josette’s guests.

I wasn’t really enamored of people.

An introvert, my mother had explained.

As she had explained that Josette, Jacob, and Wally were all extroverts—they loved being around people. Derived their energy from those interactions.

On the other hand, I’d tolerate people long enough to do whatever social obligation was required, then I’d squirrel myself away for as long as I could.

Kids were the exception to that rule. I could spend an entire day in the classroom and feel energized and contented.

Okay, but then I’d come home and crash.

I jiggled the key in the lock until the door gave way.

We’d been in here precisely once. Which meant, theoretically, we knew how bad it was.

Except we hadn’t. The previous owner had been a geriatric hoarder with about sixty years' worth of…junk. I’d tried to look for antiques, but hadn’t found anything. When the woman’s family agreed to empty the place out, we took them up on that offer.

Now, as I looked around the cavernous space, I winced. “It almost looked better with all the…stuff.”

“Nonsense.” Josette stepped into the great room and executed a pirouette. “Oh, Felix, all this space. A clean slate. Think of all the things we can do.”

“Well, you’re the one with a design background.” I eyed the thick layer of dust on the window. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want. Within reason,” I added quickly. We’d discussed a budget, but I’d paid attention while we watched all those renovation shows. I knew how often things ran over.

She swore they did that for dramatic effect.

I wasn’t convinced.

“Okay, we’re having a party on Saturday.”

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