Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Every house in our budget was either in need of major repairs or wasn’t a house at all. We hadn’t planned on dealing with expensive and time-consuming renovations. And we weren’t in the market for a town house.
After trailing behind Aaron and our relentlessly charming real estate agent for the umpteenth weekend in a row, I was beginning to think we might need to shelve this idea for a while. It wasn’t worth the heartache of hoping we’d finally found “the one,” only to actively avoid touching any surface in the so-called hidden gems our agent had shown us.
I mean, seriously…this carpet.
“Don’t worry about the carpet,” Chandler said, no doubt catching my incredulous expression. “Wall-to-wall forest green must have been all the rage in the early eighties. It’s easy enough to replace.”
“Cha-ching,” I mumbled, casting a wary glance around the dingy living room.
The gross carpet was one thing, but the seventies wood paneling, old windows, and tacky track lighting all had to go too. This place was a money pit that Charming Chandler assured us was a diamond in the rough—three bedrooms, great location, quiet neighborhood, blah, blah, blah. Aaron was sold on the brick exterior, the tree-lined street, and the fact that this one happened to be a ten-minute drive from our friends, Jay and Peter’s house. It was…fine, but I felt like we could do better.
Let me rephrase that. I felt like Chandler could be doing a better job of showing us properties that didn’t suck eggs. I had a theory that he was dragging this out to spend time with Aaron. No kidding. Our real estate agent had a big ol’ crush on my husband.
Was I paranoid? Well…
“Fixer-uppers can be daunting. So many people struggle with how to bring an older home into the twenty-first century without making a house look like a patchwork quilt. I don’t think you’ll have that issue. Aaron has fantastic taste…and vision,” Chandler gushed.
Aaron smiled. “Well, thank you, but—”
“Just stating the obvious,” Chandler intercepted, steering him to the sliding glass door. “Come check out the deck. It’s in good shape, and this yard is pretty darn nice too.”
I stuffed my hands into my pockets to avoid strangling our overconfident, smug agent with his slick suit, artfully mussed dark hair, movie star smile, and rockin’ bod. I trailed behind them like a petulant kid who’d been dragged through one too many department stores.
That was a real thing for me, by the way. I absolutely hated the fucking mall. Hated it. I agreed to go every once in a while when Aaron insisted, but he was smart about keeping those occasional trips short. I liked to think of myself as a patient man, but I struggled with boredom-inducing enterprises…like shopping for shit I didn’t need or browsing through houses we would never buy. Never ever.
“Oh, this is lovely,” Aaron enthused.
“I thought you might like it.”
I sauntered to the railing, sidling between Chandler and my husband, rather than moving to the opposite side where there was clearly more space. Then I rested my hand on Aaron’s hip in a casually possessive gesture that wasn’t like me at all.
Aaron noticed. ’Cause of course he did. I was acting like an idiot. He cocked his head curiously and inched closer while Chandler continued his spiel about the flora and fauna in these parts of Virginia.
When Chandler finally paused for air, Aaron glanced up at me. “What do you think, Matty?”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Conversation killer. That’s me.
A strained silence fell, but like a true professional, Chandler didn’t let it linger. He clapped once, then hooked his thumb toward the house. “Right. Let’s head inside and check out the basement, shall we?”
Aaron gave his best sheepishly apologetic look. “Actually, we have to cut this short today. We’re babysitting for our friends in a bit. I’m so sorry, Chandler. I should have been paying attention to the time.”
“Oh, okay. No problem. I’ll put together a short list of homes to check out next weekend or—”
I held up my hand. “Listen, we appreciate your time, but I have to ask…is there anything in the areas we’re interested in that won’t require a wrecking crew or a winning lottery ticket? I just…this house might be nice-ish under the carpet, the chipped tile, and sad linoleum, but that’s a lot of work.”
Chandler fixed me with a serious expression. “To be perfectly honest, Matt…no. The market is hot and inventory is low. Newer properties are being swept up and sometimes the owners are offered more than the asking price. Older properties like this one can get you into the neighborhood you want. I can show you town houses near—”
“That’s not what we want,” Aaron replied, sounding a bit dejected.
“New construction might be interesting to you. On the plus side, you choose every bell and whistle from hardwood flooring to appliances. On the downside, the homes are closer together and the yards are half the size of this one. And…there’s an added cost of homeowner’s association fees.”