Page 17 of Healing Hearts
He sets his coffee cup on the counter and turns away, opening the oven to check the food. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Oh,” I say, deflated. “I thought for sure you’d do it. It’s a great opportunity. And I’m not going to lie—I’d love to have you in town instead of half an hour away.”
“Couldn’t get the financing,” he says, poking around the casserole with a fork.
“You said you had some money saved…”
“It’s the loan,” he says, finally turning to look at me. “Ex-con.” He points to himself. “High interest. Shitty terms.”
“At what point do they stop holding that against you?”
“Next year. The Clean Slate Act means my record gets sealed,” he says. “The opportunity is a year too early.”
“Let me help,” I say. “I have life insurance money from my dad. I can give you the loan…” My brain is ticking through options. “Or I can buy the business, and you can do a rent-to-own sort of situation. Whatever you pay me goes to paying down the loan or paying off the business.”
“No,” Trent says with a sharp shake of his head.
“It’s not a big deal. I can totally help you. I have the money, and I understand the real estate market. I can even just buy it and then sell it to you a year from now at the same cost.”
“Em, I said no.”
“But why not? You’d be amazing, and this town needs an honest, knowledgeable mechanic.”
“Not everyone’s going to see it that way,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I’m not mixing our friendship with a business loan. If the business goes tits up because I run it into the ground, I’m not having your money at risk. You don’t get anything out of any of the deals you proposed—just me.”
“I’d get to see you succeed.”
“It’s a no, Em,” he says, and this time his tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard.
“Okay,” I say, running my hands through my hair and turning away a little.
“I appreciate the gesture,” he says, his voice gentler, “but my problems aren’t yours, and I don’t intend to make them yours.”
“That’s what friends do, Trent. They help each other.” My eyes land on the papers I’ve shoved under my laptop, on the problem I’m having that I’m keeping from him, and I suddenly feel like a huge hypocrite. “Do you want to know what I was doing last night?”
“You said it was private,” he says, leaning against the counter.
“It’s private because I’m struggling, and when I’m having a hard time, it’s difficult for me to admit it.”
“Struggling financially?” he asks, a frown creasing his brow. “Is the real estate business not doing well? I see your signs all over town.”
“No, I’m...Real estate is fine.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been going on all these dates because my mom convinced me I shouldtry to get back out there. As you know, my heart hasn’t been in it.”
“No shit,” he says with a slight grin. “Your liver probably thanks you for deciding to put an end to that.”
“I think I’ve decided to maybe do something else instead?” I say, my tone less than confident.
“What do you mean?” Another frown.
A beat sits between us, and I’m not sure if I can get the words out. Despite all the research I’ve done since Maggie mentioned it, all the databases I’ve combed through, all the fertility clinics I’ve contacted, all the insurance calls I’ve made, I’m still not one hundred percent sure this path is the one for me.
“Maggie mentioned to me a while ago that if what I really wanted was a baby, that I could do that without having a partner.”
“Adoption?” Trent asks, his expression still troubled.
“Donor sperm?” I remove the papers from under my laptop. “I’ve been weighing all the options. Donors. Clinics. Insurance. My finances if I were to bring a second child into the mix on my own.”
Trent stares at me for a beat, and I can almost see the wheels turning. “How does that even work? Is it really a turkey baster full of sperm that you just inject up there?”
