Trying to act nonchalant, I swirl my wine, but confusion weighs heavily inside me.
He
bought a house for
us
. Isn’t that an oxymoron or something? I had nothing to do with it. Not a thing. “Evan, I didn’t sign anything. How can it be
ours
?”
He puts his drink down. “Lanie, aren’t you happy about this?”
“Yes, I suppose I am. I’m just shocked.” I speak more softly, as if lowering my voice a decibel won’t allow Wes, sitting twelve inches away, to hear. “We discussed buying a home together and splitting the down payment. Remember? You know how important that is to me. If your name is on the deed, then technically it’s yours, not ours.”
“Lanie, can’t we discuss legalities another time?” He leans close. “I was quite excited to surprise you with this. I never expected this type of reaction.” He stares at me for a response.
Now I feel like an ass.
Okay. Stop. Think this through. I swallow another sip of Merlot and mull over the situation. Yes, I feel sidelined that Evan didn’t include me in this significant purchase. Yes, I’m disappointed that I’m not walking out of here a new broker, but as wine seeps through my body, invades my belly, and numbs my reserve, I decide that just because I’m caught off guard—totally off guard—doesn’t mean I should sabotage his special reveal. He did say we’ll discuss details later. Isn’t his word enough for now?
As far as the promotion goes, maybe Evan doesn’t appreciate how important becoming a broker is to me. Sure, once we’re married I’ll likely have claim to the business, but I don’t want it that way. I want to earn it. On merit. On my own.
Have I ever told him that?
I shouldn’t throw him under the bus for not promoting me when he didn’t know I wanted it in the first place. Come to think of it, the office is a better venue to discuss work anyway. I will ask about the promotion. At the office. Tomorrow.
I glance at Wes.
She didn’t even appreciate the house he bought her
, he’ll likely tell Evan’s parents.
Did nothing but complain. Look here, she drooled on my leg.
For another moment I consider Evan’s perspective. He’s pleased with himself. Is it fair of me to sour his enthusiasm? Ruin the evening with my criticism and nitpicking? To a person looking in from the outside, a new home is hardly something to sneeze at. My mom will be thrilled.
What is more important, I won’t give Wes the pleasure of watching me quibble another moment.
“You’re right.” I raise my glass to him. “Thank you. The house sounds wonderful.”
“Quite the wedding present, wouldn’t you say? Wait until you see the place.” He smiles, then motions toward the menus. “Shall we order?”
A question plagues me as I scan the entrées. “So, Wes, I’m not quite sure why you’re here.”
In other words, when are you leaving?
Before Wes answers, Evan folds his menu on the table and says, “I’m glad you brought that up. You know, Lanie, you’re the reason I called him.”
“Me?” I laugh a bit too loudly. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“You’re familiar with the City Core, yes?” Evan asks.
“Of course. It’s an incredible property. The seamless combination of steel and glass with acute angles is breathtaking.”
“Thanks,” Wes replies.
Wait . . . what?
Evan aims a thumb toward Wes. “He’s the architect.”
I don’t mention that my dad would’ve loved the City Core development with the tower’s penthouse balcony serving as an ideal zip-line post to the pool. Instead I manage, “I . . . I don’t understand. What does that have to do with us?”
“Orchid Lane needs an update, cosmetic as well as a few structural changes. Nothing major. I want to eliminate several walls, possibly open up the kitchen, restructure the dining room, add a Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom. All of which requires an architect. Wes happens to be one of the best.”
Wes dips his head in gratitude.
“Meet the
He
bought a house for
us
. Isn’t that an oxymoron or something? I had nothing to do with it. Not a thing. “Evan, I didn’t sign anything. How can it be
ours
?”
He puts his drink down. “Lanie, aren’t you happy about this?”
“Yes, I suppose I am. I’m just shocked.” I speak more softly, as if lowering my voice a decibel won’t allow Wes, sitting twelve inches away, to hear. “We discussed buying a home together and splitting the down payment. Remember? You know how important that is to me. If your name is on the deed, then technically it’s yours, not ours.”
“Lanie, can’t we discuss legalities another time?” He leans close. “I was quite excited to surprise you with this. I never expected this type of reaction.” He stares at me for a response.
Now I feel like an ass.
Okay. Stop. Think this through. I swallow another sip of Merlot and mull over the situation. Yes, I feel sidelined that Evan didn’t include me in this significant purchase. Yes, I’m disappointed that I’m not walking out of here a new broker, but as wine seeps through my body, invades my belly, and numbs my reserve, I decide that just because I’m caught off guard—totally off guard—doesn’t mean I should sabotage his special reveal. He did say we’ll discuss details later. Isn’t his word enough for now?
As far as the promotion goes, maybe Evan doesn’t appreciate how important becoming a broker is to me. Sure, once we’re married I’ll likely have claim to the business, but I don’t want it that way. I want to earn it. On merit. On my own.
Have I ever told him that?
I shouldn’t throw him under the bus for not promoting me when he didn’t know I wanted it in the first place. Come to think of it, the office is a better venue to discuss work anyway. I will ask about the promotion. At the office. Tomorrow.
I glance at Wes.
She didn’t even appreciate the house he bought her
, he’ll likely tell Evan’s parents.
Did nothing but complain. Look here, she drooled on my leg.
For another moment I consider Evan’s perspective. He’s pleased with himself. Is it fair of me to sour his enthusiasm? Ruin the evening with my criticism and nitpicking? To a person looking in from the outside, a new home is hardly something to sneeze at. My mom will be thrilled.
What is more important, I won’t give Wes the pleasure of watching me quibble another moment.
“You’re right.” I raise my glass to him. “Thank you. The house sounds wonderful.”
“Quite the wedding present, wouldn’t you say? Wait until you see the place.” He smiles, then motions toward the menus. “Shall we order?”
A question plagues me as I scan the entrées. “So, Wes, I’m not quite sure why you’re here.”
In other words, when are you leaving?
Before Wes answers, Evan folds his menu on the table and says, “I’m glad you brought that up. You know, Lanie, you’re the reason I called him.”
“Me?” I laugh a bit too loudly. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“You’re familiar with the City Core, yes?” Evan asks.
“Of course. It’s an incredible property. The seamless combination of steel and glass with acute angles is breathtaking.”
“Thanks,” Wes replies.
Wait . . . what?
Evan aims a thumb toward Wes. “He’s the architect.”
I don’t mention that my dad would’ve loved the City Core development with the tower’s penthouse balcony serving as an ideal zip-line post to the pool. Instead I manage, “I . . . I don’t understand. What does that have to do with us?”
“Orchid Lane needs an update, cosmetic as well as a few structural changes. Nothing major. I want to eliminate several walls, possibly open up the kitchen, restructure the dining room, add a Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom. All of which requires an architect. Wes happens to be one of the best.”
Wes dips his head in gratitude.
“Meet the
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