Page 92 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
I grin at Maya, who’s eyes are shining with anticipation as she gazes around the house that very soon could be our new home.
***
Nearly a week later, I’m standing inside the relator’s office with Maya, the morning sun filtering through the crisp autumn leaves, throwing dappled shadows across the sidewalk.
Maya’s fingers lace tightly with mine, her smile a mix of excitement and nervousness, the kind that comes right before everything changes.
We’ve gotten the house quickly, thanks to a cash offer a little above asking price to really entice the seller. The previous owner jumped on the deal, and didn’t hesitate to agree when we asked for a move-in date by the end of the month.
Inside the cramped office, the realtor, Mrs. Calhoun, is guiding us through the final steps. Her soft Southern drawl is steady and reassuring.
“Now, y’all, this is the last piece—just need your signatures here, here, and here. Congratulations, it’s all official now.” She beams at us like we just won the lottery.
I glance over at Maya. Her hands tremble slightly as she signs, then looks up, her eyes meeting mine.
“Can you believe this is happening?” she whispers.
I squeeze her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Mrs. Calhoun clears her throat, pulling out a small stack of keys from her purse. “And here are the keys to your new home.”
Jake and Ethan are waiting just outside, their faces lighting up when they see us step into the daylight. Jake’s grin is impossibly wide, while Ethan’s eyes are calm but shining with happiness.
We pile into Maya’s house afterward—empty moving boxes scattered everywhere, waiting to be filled. Jake pulls two bottles of sparkling grape juice from the fridge, holding them up like trophies.
“Not quite champagne, but it’ll do, right?”
Ethan chuckles, uncorking a bottle. “I’ll toast to that.”
We gather in the living room, standing in a loose circle. Maya’s cheeks are flushed with excitement and maybe a little disbelief. Ihand her a glass and our fingers brush, the touch sending a burst of warmth through me.
“To us,” Maya says softly, raising her glass.
“To the future,” Ethan adds, his v
I lift my glass last, smiling wide. “And to the home we’re about to make together.”
The glasses clink, and the sound feels like a promise—sharp and bright. We sip slowly, laughter bubbling up as the tension of the day melts away.
Chapter thirty-eight
MAYA
The air buzzes with the sharp scent of cardboard and packing tape as I wrestle with the next box, its flaps snapping shut with a final, defiant crack.
My fingers are stiff, muscles tight from hours of packing, and my back aches from leaning over for too long. I stretch, rolling my shoulders, and in that second of distraction, my elbow knocks into a small box I hadn’t sealed yet.
A glass ornament—a blown-glass ballerina my mom gave me when I was eight—tumbles out and hits the hardwood floor.
The sharp, delicate tinkle of it shattering slices through the steady hum of moving chaos. My breath catches.
“Damn it,” I whisper, sinking to my knees, already gathering the tiny shards into my palm. They glitter in the afternoon light like broken stars.
Jake’s heavy footsteps thud behind me on the floorboards. I don’t have to turn to know it’s him—he’s got a way of walking like he’s part thunderstorm and part puppy. He crouches beside me, brushing a few of the shards into a pile with the sleeve of his flannel.
“Hey,” he says, casually fishing something else from the box beside us. He holds it up with both hands like it’s a prized artifact. “You sure you want to part with this?” It’s the old record player, the dusty one I found at a thrift shop two years ago. “I swear it sounds better than any Bluetooth speaker I’ve owned.”
I huff a laugh, brushing the hair from my face with the back of my wrist. “That old thing? I don’t know…”
