Page 93 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

It was my time. And I might not have been that guy when Brit needed me to be, but I could be that guy now. The guy who took what he wanted.

I left the office late and went for a drive to clear my head from everything that had just gone down. I wouldn’t have guessed it, after days of hassle, but it felt good to be back on the road. Like reliving a fond memory. Except my pickup wasn’t a luxury SUV, and there was no beautiful chatterbox in the passenger seat making fun of my music.

I wished I could call her, tell her that I’d taken her advice and that I felt the world open up just a little because of it. Instead, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have her here now, sitting in the passenger side of my truck, maybe going home together. We’d still argue about the music and she’d still make me play stupid deep question games, but I’d put my hand on her thigh as we drove, and she’d cover it with hers and smile.

My chest tightened with a feeling of incompleteness.

Make room, Willow had said. I was working out in my head what that looked like, but even once I figured it out, how could I convince Brit? I still didn’t know if she’d run away from me or she’d convinced me to run away from her.

The Bluetooth announced a text message and I slowed to a stop on the side of the road to read it.

Drew: Offer is in. Outlook good.

I grinned, pumping my fist alone in the cab of my truck.

The first thing I’d done when my father left was count the Clayborne job a loss. That was his project and he’d let it die. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help him, but the fact was, he’d said it was my time and losing that job freed up some cash. A lot of it. I knew exactly where I wanted to invest it.

Tom and Drew and I sat around the conference table and made the plans. The three of us working together felt like old times. Like when we were kids, coming up with some scheme to pull over on our parents. Of course this scheme had a big financial risk attached to it, but still. I’d missed that since I’d been pretending that anyone who wasn’t Alex didn’t matter.

I sent Drew a meme of Jerry Maguire saying “show me the money.”

He replied with a gif of a man’s naked ass as he dove into a pool of hundred-dollar bills. I deleted it.

I pulled back onto the road, a new destination in mind, and ten minutes later, I was edging into a parallel spot and putting my truck in park.

I climbed out and zipped my fleece to my chin. My boots crunched in the snow as I wandered the block, taking a look at my first commercial investment. It was a row of brick on cobblestone, mixed-use space that included a market, some offices. I’d had my eye on it for months. It needed a ton of work but Tom had agreed on the potential. That was his expertise. I ran numbers and reports and he got ideas. We were both damn good at our jobs.

I waited for a car to pass and hustled across the street to get a feel for who our neighbors would be. What kind of customer base was already present that we could tap into when trying to find tenants once the space was renovated. I’d been down here a few times, dreaming, and Drew had gotten us an official list of nearby businesses when we’d decided to do this, but I wanted to look at it again in person now that it would be ours.

I passed a bank, a coffee shop closing up for the evening. A tavern that was just coming to life. It reminded me of Madge’s with its glass front and antique wood door, and my chest squeezed as the thought occurred to me. This looked like the type of place where people liked to go to work.

I walked another block or so until I found myself in front of a vintage-looking two-story with gray peeling paint nestled between two newer buildings. My feet came to a stop on their own, something telling me to take a closer look.

The street level had been an office, now it was empty space behind a bay window where a business name had been poorly scraped off. The top floor looked like loft space. It probably had vaulted ceilings based on the roofline. There was stained glass in the attic window and . . .

Holy shit.

I jogged up four stone steps and saw a handwrittenfor rentsign taped to the door.

My heart sped up as an absolutely ridiculous idea started to form in my brain. Maybe I was still high from the wins of the day, or I missed Brit so much I was out of my mind, but I quickly snapped a picture of the address and texted it to Drew. He knew everyone in this business. Inspectors, developers, realtors.

Can you find out who owns this property?

Drew: You looking to move? Because that might be a downgrade.

I laughed. I might have to move here if this didn’t work.

It’s not for me. Can you do it quickly?

Drew: On it.

If he got me the info, I could do this. The ink wasn’t dry on the deal yet, but my dad made it clear that I was the one making decisions now. I wouldn’t unless Tom and Drew gave me the okay, but I could almost bank on that. I could do it the same way I bought my house and they bought theirs and Alex bought his—as a Callaway and Sons investment.

Of course, I didn’t know if I could convince her, if she’d even take my call, but I’d figure that out later. Right now I was going to channel a little bit of Brit and take a huge leap of faith.

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Tom drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk, eyeing me.

I’d filled him in on what I wanted to do last night after Drew had got me the name of the guy who owned the house and I’d given him a call. Turned out he’d recently moved out of state and had little interest in keeping it rented. When I’d made him an offer for it, empty and as is, he’d jumped on it.

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