Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I sighed. “Tucker went through a phase after watching some Channing Tatum movie where he played a cop.” Even though I saw the photo on my desk every day, it had been a long time since I really looked at it. His moustache was pretty bad. He’d shaved the bottom of it so that it was oddly positioned too high above his top lip. And it never fully filled in, so it was pretty ratty looking, too.
Adam opened the back of the frame and slipped out the photo. “Even if you liked the bad moustache, a dude trying to look like Channing Tatum should have clued you in that he was an idiot, beautiful.”
I smiled. “I guess you’re right.”
He set the empty frame back on my desk and held up the photo. “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right. Now…would you like to do the honors, or should I?”
“I guess I should do it.”
I took the photo from Adam’s hand and stared at it for a moment. He really did look like an idiot with that moustache.
“Don’t have all day. I’m already going to hear the judge lay into me for being late. Tear it up, sweetheart. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off of an old wound, just let it rip.”
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tore the photo in two.
“That a girl. Keep going.”
I smiled and ripped a second time. Then a third. It felt so good that I tore the damn thing up into tiny little pieces. When I was done, I dumped the shreds into the garbage can and looked up at Adam with an ear-to-ear smile on my face.
He smiled back. “You should do that more often.”
“Rip up photos?”
Adam’s eyes dropped to my lips. “No. Smile. You have a great smile.”
My belly did a little somersault. “Oh. Thanks.”
He cleared his throat and broke our gaze. “Come on, we better get going.”
Outside, the snow was falling even heavier now. Adam grabbed my arm and we made a run for it, jumping back into our waiting Uber.
Once we were settled into the back seat, I said, “Thank you for that. I actually feel pretty good now. Which is a feat considering I’m heading to my imminent doom.”
Adam unbuttoned the top of his coat. “What’s the deal on your eviction anyway? You don’t seem like the type to not pay your rent.”
“I’m not. I paid my rent every month—early. But I don’t really have the right to live there. The apartment I live in was my grandmother’s. I moved in two years ago when she got sick so I could take care of her. It’s rent-controlled. She died nine months ago. I love it there, so I stayed. I could never afford a one bedroom in my neighborhood. But the landlord recently found out and is having me evicted. He’s also suing me for the market value of rent back to the date that my grandmother died since I didn’t have a right to be there. He wants thirty-six-thousand-four-hundred-and-twelve dollars from me.”
Adam looked at me for a long moment. “Thirty-six-thousand-four-hundred-and-twelve dollars, huh?” He scratched his chin. “Did you say you moved in two years ago and she died nine months ago?”
“Yeah. Well, I was rounding. Maybe I’ve lived there a few months less than two years. Why?”
“Did your attorney tell you about succession rights?”
“I don’t have an attorney. I’m too broke. What are succession rights?”
“If you’re related to a senior tenant and live with them for more than a year before they die, you can’t be evicted and get to keep the rent control.”
My eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Were you there a full year before she died?”
“I’m not sure! I moved in during the winter, and she died the following winter, but I don’t remember the exact date I moved in.”
“You’d need to prove it in court today at your eviction hearing.”
My shoulders slumped. “How would I do that if I don’t even know the date I moved?”
“You could try to estimate and let them know you need a little more time to gather the supporting documentation since you just became aware of your succession rights. Think about something you can use to back up the date, like moving expense receipts…anything. Depending on the judge, you might get a reprieve until after the holidays. They’ll set another date, and you’ll just have to prove the timeline.”
Hope filled me, although I wasn’t confident I had anything to show when I moved in.
“And if I can’t prove it?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about that. Deal with it when it comes.”
“I already postponed once because I was sick. I don’t think they’re going to give me more time, no matter what I tell them.”
“Maybe they’ll want to go home early for Christmas, and you’ll get lucky.”
“Lucky, huh?” I teased. “I thought you said luck didn’t exist?”