Page 45 of Confessions of a High School Guidance Counselor

As the inspector’s truck pulled in, I couldn’t help but hope she was right.

The guy—he introduced himself as Bill—got straight to work, walking the perimeter of the house and pointing out things like guttering that wasn’t quite connected right or areas that needed to be caulked. Linda gave me a thumbs up as we went to the front door.

Everything he brought up, I’d expected, but I wouldn’t be able to breathe right until I knew there wasn’t anything structurally wrong. She brought the key out of the lockbox and then unlocked the front door.

The work was slow, testing outlets and plugging in each appliance. I paced back and forth, praying nothing was wrong, and Linda touched my arm. I must have been making her nervous too.

Bill got up from the sink, cringing. “I’m going to need to see the crawl space.”

My brows drew together. “Everything okay?”

“The water pressure’s awfully low. I’m worried there might be a leak somewhere.”

A million cuss words flew through my mind, but I tried to take deep breaths. Tried to keep the disappointment from hijacking my heartbeats.

We went back outside and found a false window on the back side of the house. He pushed it open, and my heart sank. I could hear the hiss of water. It was running, and that was never good.

There was no way to describe the next hour as anything other than a clusterfuck of epic fucking shitastic proportions.

Not only were the pipes under the house original to when it was built and completely fucking rusted out, but the foundation had shifted so severely the house would probably have to be mud jacked to correct it. The wiring wasn’t up to code inside, and climbing onto the roof revealed it would need to be replaced as well.

I could have bought another fucking house with two extra rooms for all it would have cost.

With a sympathetic look lining her face, Linda said, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll come back to the owners and see what they can get fixed—or what discounts and credits they can offer.”

I left the inspection dejected as hell and hoping with all I had that I could make at least one thing go right.

24

Birdie

Confession: I read smutty romance.

Mara and I sat in folding chairs behind a table at a craft fair. She was trying something new—selling her romance novels in person as well as online and in bookstores—and I’d agreed to come along because if I was alone, I’d call Cohen in a second and let him kiss me breathless like I’d so desperately wanted to do Friday night.

We’d gotten to the fair early Sunday morning, and there was basically no one there aside from other vendors who took one look at Mara’s man-chest covers and turned their noses in the air. As though their existence wasn’t a product of sex.

“How did you not kiss him?” Mara said. “Do you have a will of steel or did you swear off men after Dax?”

“Mara, I could getfired.”

“And?” she argued, looking perplexed. “Do you really want to work for a school that polices your private life?”

“I like working there. I love my students, I have great resources, I’m making good connections with colleges. My whole life is at that school.”

Mara shook her head. “But at what cost, B? Your heart?”

I let out a sigh. She was only saying everything I had been thinking. But I’d also been arguing with myself and had plenty of rebuttals. Argument number one? “My heart’s led me astray before.”

She gave me a look. “Tell me truly. Did you love Dax?”

I looked ahead at the jars of salsa atop the table across from us. “I think I loved the idea of him.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I liked that he was a rebel at heart. You know I spent my whole life living the way my parents wanted me to, going on diets to please them, touring the collegestheywanted me to attend. But he didn’t worry about what anyone else thought. Part of me wishes I could be that way too.”

“Look at you!” Mara cried. “You are that way! You went to the college of your choice, no matter how much it cost you. I haven’t seen you buy diet food since the first year we lived together. You’re working the job you always wanted to, to hell with what your parents thought.”

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