Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I thought buying a house would be fun, not a judgment on my dating life . . .
Inhale.
Exhale.
A place to call my very own without the assistance of anyone, without needing to wait until I marry. Now this happens . . .
Inhale.
Exhale . . .
His fingers stop, still poised like he’s ready to test his typing speed. Then he hums, reading just softer than a whisper to himself. This is torture. He glances at me, and I catch a little accusatory side-eye as if he’s just proved I didn’t tell the truth.
I feel the cute little two-bedroom, two-bath home with the updated kitchen and large soaking tub slipping through my fingers with every second that passes. Every one of his judgmental slow blinks, the purse of his lips, and the heavy breathing through his nostrils takes me further from purchasing my charming blue home with white trim, a red door, and the orange tree that grows in the front.
Thirty minutes to the beach on a good traffic day.
A lively coffee shop two blocks over.
Two indie bookstores within a five-minute drive.
The home where I planned to start a garden and raise a few kittens is about to be given to the next bidder on the list. I can’t let that happen. “What does it say?”
Turning back to me, he steeples his fingers. “You’re legally married in the state of California, so we’ll need your husband’s financials to close this deal.”
“There must be a different Catalina Farin in your system.”
“It’s not my system. This is public records for the state, so if you’ve been confused for someone else . . .” He’s right, knowing he can’t change what the state got wrong. “This Catalina Farin matches your current occupation of nurse practitioner. There can’t be two, so you’ll need to take this up with them.”
My temper cools as reality sets in, my heart crashing to the pit of my stomach. “Them, as in the state? Go plead my case like I have something to hide. I’ve never been married, Ross. I swear I haven’t.”
“I believe you, but I’ve never had something like this happen.” He looks back at the screen as if he’ll get a different answer this time. “Only one Catalina Farin shows up in public records.”
“It’s a unique name,” I say as if recounting a story from my childhood. I hated it growing up, so I became Cat back then. Switching my mind away from anything that will lead to me having to explain my life’s journey, my emotions begin to well in my throat.
“I’m sorry, Cate, there’s nothing I can do to change the records, and as long as you’re married in the eyes of the state, I can’t hide assets on this purchase.”
Taking a sobering breath, I ask, “How do I clear this up? Where do I even begin, and please don’t tell me to get my husband’s financials again.” The laugh comes easier, the tension slowly dissolving. “Considering I don’t have one and have no idea who the state of California has legally bound me to, that’s not a viable option.”
Ross comes around the desk and sits in the chair next to me. “I don’t have a solution. This is a first for me as well.” His tone is sympathetic, his eyes rounding at the edges as the smallest of smiles squeezes between his cheeks. “Start with the county office where marriage licenses are filed.”
“The county. Got it.” That’s a start. “I’ll leave now, but be honest with me. Am I going to lose this house?”
“There is no clause to protect a buyer in this circumstance, but I’m sure they’ll give you a few more days to get it sorted. I’ll send a message to the real estate agent.”
I stand, taking my phone and bag in hand. “I appreciate it, Ross. Hopefully, I can get it corrected in the system and close on this house.”
He moves back to his chair. “My guess is it’s just a clerical error. Fixed in a jiff.”
“Let’s hope.” I start for the door when a little laugh bubbles up. “If I had known I had a husband, I would have taken advantage of the benefits.” I reach the door and open it, wishing I had thought twice before speaking. Nothing says loneliness like admitting I want to take advantage of someone who doesn’t exist. Real classy. “Instead, I’m tracking down some imaginary man I’m attached to.”
“He’s not imaginary,” he says, stopping me in my tracks. “So he’ll need to fix this on his end as well.”
“What do you mean? He exists in real life?” I close the door and return to the desk. “Not just on paper?”
“There are two names on the marriage license.”
“Who’s my husband?” The words rush out as if my life depends on it. It sort of does.
Tapping the screen, he says, “Shane Faris.”