Page 148 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
He smiles, but it’s not the easy smile he used to have before his accident. I’m not sure how to read this one. “It’s time.”
I shift back and forth while he continues packing. When Britta takes some boxes out of the room, I turn to Dex. “You upset with me, mate?”
Dex stops short and looks at me. “Course not.” He crosses the distance between us and lays his hand on my shoulder. “We’re ready to start our own life, and you need to move on with yours. But nothing about our friendship is changing beyond our living situation.”
My lip pulls to the side. Everything about our friendship has changed, except for our loyalty to each other. Britta is Dex’s first priority now—as she should be—but I’ll always have his back. He’ll have mine…as long as he doesn’t have to choose between me and his wife.
“We’re only ten minutes away, Arch,” Britta adds, coming back into the room in time to catch the end of the conversation. “Practically next door to Frothed. If we’re not there to make your coffee in the morning, walk a few doors down to our place. You’re always welcome.”
“We’ll never be able to repay you for everything you’ve done.” Dex squeezes my shoulder, and we give each other a quick embrace.
When we break away, I give his cheek a light slap. “We’ve got the AFL Finals tomorrow. You’re still coming over for dinner and to watch, yeah?”
Australian Football League Finals are kicking off with a special Thursday match up that’s being played at 2:30 am LAtime. Dex and I are determined to avoid any news about the match until we can watch the replay tomorrow.
“Who’s cooking?” Dex asks, going back to his suitcase.
“Not me!” Britta answers before her eyes dart to me. “Sorry, Arch. I’m worn out from traveling, and I’ve got to be at Frothed all day tomorrow catching things up.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to cook.” That’s a lie, and we all know it, but Dex and Britta are polite enough not to call me out on it. “We’ll get sushi from Kenzo. My treat.”
They love Kenzo even more than I do, so I know they won’t turn down my offer.
Dex swings his suitcase shut and zips it. “It’s always your treat; let me get this one. I’m not broke.”
“You’re notnotbroke,” I joke.
“I’ll buy,” he says firmly, and I realize I’ve sucker punched his ego. “If you’re leaving for Aus soon, this may be my last chance to treat you.”
“I’ve got no plans to leave. My house. My invite. My treat.” Too much has changed between us already. I’m not ready for Dex to be playing the one who’s in charge.
I hand Britta my finished box, then grab Dex’s suitcase and heft it off the bed before he can.
He snorts his frustration but lets me take it. “So, you talked to your dad? He’s letting you keep the house, then?” He asks as I wheel the suitcase to the door.
There’s a hopefulness in his voice that re-energizes me. I haven’t made a lot of progress with the plan I promised Dad, but I will. “I told him he either needed to let me tap into my trust fund to start Bombora, or else I’d sell the house to do it. He gave me two weeks to put together a business plan to present to him as proof that I’m ready to make a solid go of things.”
“That took some guts, mate. Good on ya.” Dex’s encouragement quickly dissolves into silence and his smile falls.“And, yeah. Your treat tomorrow I guess,” he says, finally. “I reckon it won’t be long before your finances look worse than mine.”
I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dex tips his head as though he’s re-considering what he’s said.
“Come on, mate. Out with it.”
He takes a breath and looks me square in the eye. “It means I think your dad is stringing you along. If you don’t do what he wants, he’ll freeze you out—same as he did with Frankie—and find a way to get the beach house from you to boot,” Dex says with enough certainty to make me nervous.
But I quickly brush the thought away. My business plan…proposalwill convince Dad. Besides, I’ve always got on better with him than Frankie has. I don’t blame her for dismissing Dad’s plan for her to marry Lachlan Reid, but she didn’t have to elope with someone else.
Frankie doesn’t just refuse to build bridges between her and Dad; she’s burned down every bridge they already had. She and I are completely different in that way. I know Dad is flawed, but I also think we’re on the same page in regard to my future. We both want me to make something of myself. He’s giving me the push I need, and I’m going to prove I can do it.
But I don’t expect anyone else to understand. Dad doesn’t have many fans among my friends who know some of the stuff he’s pulled in the past. I’m at fault there for complaining about the bad and leaving out the good. I reckon this time’s not the same as the others. Dad texted that he’d look at my draft. I’ve gotta believe that means I have a chance at changing his mind about letting me stay and turning over my trust fund.
The fact is, if I want my life to be my own, I have to make Bombora work, but I need more time to turn my rough business plan into a full-fledged, glossy-print, graph-heavy proposal.
I have two options for buying more time: Get Piper to see my vision and convince Cynthia to put pressure on Dad to settle for the ten million. She can get her own place closer to work, and I can use the house for the funding I need.
The other option is to cut my losses, sign the deed back to Dad, round up some investors and start Bombora completely on my own. In this scenario, I’m the one who leaves this situation, and I never have to see Piper again.
