by Crowe, Liz
Closing Costs
Stewart Realty, Book Three
Liz Crowe
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Liz Crowe
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Closing Costs
Copyright © 2019 Liz Crowe
Buoni Amici Press, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].
Published by Buoni Amici Press, LLC www.buoniamicipress.com
Book and Cover design by Buoni Amici Press, LLC
Disclaimer:
Material in this work of fiction is of a graphic sexual nature and is not intended for audiences under 18 years of age.
To Drue Hoffman.
My amateur therapist, advisor, talker-off-of-walls, listener, calming influence, and friend.
Prologue
Sara struggled to throw off the blanket, to open her eyes, to get her feet to the floor—anything to get out from under the smothering darkness enveloping her. She tried holding her eyes open with her fingers, but that didn’t work. Counting to three and heaving herself up and out of the bed didn’t either. She simply could not move.
Everything smelled funny. Sort of like the rubber gloves her mother used to keep under the sink for the dreaded cleaning marathons of her youth. The gloves were tight, hot, and gross. They were from her parents’ medical practice, designed to peel off and toss when the task was finished, but the weird, sweaty rubbery odor would linger for days no matter how much soap she used.
Why was she so thirsty? Dear God her throat felt like the Mohave Desert in a drought.
The dried out rivulets of flesh in the back of her mouth were slimed in a disgusting, coppery, medicinal ooze. But the thirst – it was like a live thing, crouching in her gut. And the saliva that coated her mouth only made it worse, teasing her with nauseating dampness. She moaned and threw a hand over her face as lights flooded her bedroom.
Something held her back. Wires or maybe restraints.
Did Jack do this? After all these months of avoidance, had he talked her into the sex play they used to enjoy back when they could still stand the sight of each other? Something about that thought brought tears to her eyes.
That’s when it caught up with her—massive capital letter “P” Pain, cutting her in half.
“Help!” she yelled. But it came out as a week croak. She was still trying to sort out why her bedroom felt like a hospital room, why there were not one but two IV’s stuck in her, one in her left hand, the other currently straining against the inside of her right elbow and quickly filling with blood. “Somebody, I’m gonna…”
Two women appeared, dressed in annoyingly bright pink scrubs, one dotted with – Sara strained her eyes just before she puked into the plastic kidney bean shaped container – Hello Kitty faces. Tears streamed down her face as she flopped back.
“Is it possible to throw up your pancreas? I think I just did.” Hello Kitty nurse hustled out as the other one fussed around with her IV, took her pulse and temperature.
“What’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”
Sara tried to hold her eyes open, to remain this side of conscious, but slipped, slowly back under as she whispered: “Forty-five,” remembering too late she still needed a drink of water.
“Sara.”
A disembodied hand patted hers. Sara gasped, tried to sit, terror gripping her chest. When her gaze met a pair of familiar, soft green eyes, tears slipped down her cheeks. Agony blossomed from every inch of her body. She lay back, gingerly, thinking if she curled in on herself and hid, the pain wouldn’t find her.
“Honey, want me to call a nurse?” her mother asked. Sara shut her eyes. There was something in the woman’s arms—something she kept looking at. “Do you want to see her Sara? Your daughter – she’s so beautiful.”
She did. But she hurt so bad. Honestly, it felt as though she’d been in a major car accident and not done the most natural thing on earth. Even if she could barely remember the details of it. Other than there was, indeed, a daughter who needed her.
“How long have I been in here?” Her dry lips split. “Can I have some water?” She could barely hear her own voice as the pain ripped through her again. “Jack?”
He didn’t materialize. And her mother had faded on her. The best defense seemed to be passing out. So she did.
“Okay Sleeping Beauty, enough already.” A firm voice pierced the fuzz that was packed around her brain. Dark brown eyes met hers as she fought to the surface again. “C’mon, there’s someone here that wants to meet you,” Craig insisted.
Craig. Why was he here? Oh, right he’d been there when I bled all over the conference room floor. Not to mention very possibly when this kid had been conceived.
Sara sighed and stretched, wincing when she found something like a million muscles that were sore.
“Water. Can I please get some?” Blake appeared on her other side, a white cup in one hand. The glorious liquid soothed her throat. She gulped and gulped until Blake took it from her.
“Slow down.” His deep green eyes were red rimmed but he smiled and she relaxed.
“Now, let me present you with Miss Katherine Elizabeth Thornton.” Craig stuck a pink-blanketed bundle in the crook of her arm. The bundle shifted. A mewling sound came from its depths. Sara gasped as a sudden mild tingling in her breasts became a fresh roar of agony. Her mouth dried out again so fast she whimpered. The baby wiggled and made more noises. Sara tried very hard not to panic.
The almost nine months she’d spent pregnant had felt interminable. But she’d gotten adjusted to being the pregnant princess, despite all the discomforts and various medical dramas it provoked. The concept that there would actually be a small, helpless human to care for at the end of it had become a distant thought, an idea or a possibility that right now, she held in her arms.
And she’d never been more terrified about anything in her life.
At that moment a woman strode in, took the baby and declared herself the “lactation coach,” summarily dismissing Craig and Blake from the room. Sara stared at her, one hand over her aching boob.
“I thought this was a natural act. Why do I need a coach? I didn’t need a coach to get in this condition. Ow!” The woman pulled one side of Sara’s hospital gown down without any preamble or warning, exposing a giant, leaking breast. “Holy shit, that hurts!”
She tried to flinch away, but the crazy woman kept holding her freakishly giant tit, rubbing her leaky nipple against the baby’s cheek. It took about three seconds for the kid to latch on. “Jesus!” Sara winc
ed, bent over, trying not to smother her own child during her first few hours as a mother.
“That’s it.” The evil torturer smiled. “Perfect. You two are naturals at this.”
“Water?” Sara whimpered.
The woman handed her the cup. “You’ll want to always have water around as you nurse.”
“No shit,” Sara muttered, as the painful tugging at her nipple increased, then settled into a soft rhythm. She leaned back and sighed, finally taking a peek down at her baby. The girl’s huge eyes were open and locked on her with an unnerving intensity. Then her tiny, perfect face broke into a grin around Sara’s nipple. When she curled her small body tighter against Sara’s body, a surge of something she’d had never felt in her entire life shot through her then. A strange, almost painful energy that started in her scalp and worked its way down her spine, lighting up every nerve ending she possessed.
She smiled down at Katherine Elizabeth.
Her daughter.
I will be the perfect mother.
I’ll read you books every night, only serve you organically grown non-junk food your entire life, and always listen to you. I’ll be home every day when you get in from school with homemade cookies and plenty of time to sit and hear about your day. I’ll take you to dance lessons, piano, violin, anything you want.
She ran her fingertip down the impossibly small nose, making the girl flinch and lose her concentration. She glared at her mother for a split second.
The look spoke volumes.
“You won’t either,” she seemed to accuse. “You’ll work too many hours. I’ll be a latchkey kid, and an evil, pot-smoking adolescent and we’ll do nothing but fight.”
A goofy smile-like thing Sara knew was likely gas lit the girl’s face.
“But it’s okay. I’ll love you anyway.”
A fresh surge of anxiety gripped Sara’s throat as the child nursed a bit more, then slept, as if a light switch had been turned off. Sara stared at her, watched a bit of thin-looking, white liquid drip from the girl’s open mouth. Feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, she held on tight, unsure of what the hell do to next.
Would her coach show back up? Give her a high-five and send her to the showers? Waves of emotion pounded in her brain, as her pain level ramped back up now that endorphins had stopped flowing.
“Sara?”
She looked up, confused at the sight of Jack’s tall frame filling the doorway. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a polo. His face looked gaunt. His blue eyes bloodshot and full of worry. She sucked in a breath and glanced back down at the girl who’d fallen asleep at her breast, sucked in a breath, and burst into tears.
“Oh my God, Jack.”
He was at her side in a split second, holding tight as sobs racked her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying,” she managed to choke out as she readjusted the baby to her other arm and tried to shove her still massive boob back into her gown. Jack plucked a tissue from a nearby box and tried to hand it to her. She shook her head. “I’m afraid to let go of her.” Her voice cracked. He shrugged and held the tissue to her nose.
“Blow.”
She did as he said. He disposed of the tissue and climbed up on the bed beside her. She snuggled into his side, relief nearly making her giggle.
Dear God these hormones are worse than the pregnancy ones.
“You look like hell, my dear.” He put a tentative hand on the baby then drew back as she stirred. Sara stiffened but he tightened his arm around her shoulders.
“Everything’s okay. Baby’s good. You made it, thank God.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “We weren’t sure for a while. Although a shower might be a good idea…”
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, still gripping the child close. “I can barely take care of myself. What made me think…? Oh Jesus.” Tears kept leaking down her face. Jack held her closer. “Ow. Sorry. I hurt all over.”
He moved the pink blanket aside. The baby startled. Sara saw something like fear flicker in his eyes. Her arm was getting sore from staying in one position for long. But having Jack here holding her felt better than anything and she didn’t want the moment to end. “So much for all those Lamaze hours, huh? I didn’t even need them.”
“Time wasted indeed. Way to scare everybody, drama queen.” He stayed quiet for a while. “Listen, Sara, you can do this. You made it through months of crazy medical bullshit, worked, bought a new house, moved. All of it. You’ll be fine.”
“But Jack.” She hated the sound of her own whine. “I don’t know what do with her. I mean, how do I get her home? How does she sleep? Where does she sleep?”
“You have a complete library of how-to books. Didn’t you read any of them? And, if I remember right, painting this kid’s nursery nearly cost us our friendship. So I’m pretty sure she has a place to sleep.”
Sara tried not to let the word “friendship” bug her too much. She’d insisted on keeping it that way after all.
“Well, I sort of only skimmed the books,” she said by way of deflection as she stared down at her sleeping baby. Her daughter. Katie. The reason she’d pushed both Jack and Craig out of her life for good in a strange fit of somewhat misplaced independence—or stubbornness.
“They’re saying you guys can go home at the end of the week. I’ll help, if you want. I mean, you know…” He ran a shaking hand through his hair then stared at the baby, that weird look in his eyes again.
“We’ll be the blind leading the blind. Who would have thought a baby would scare you?” He sighed and seemed to deflate. She cursed herself for ruining a perfectly nice moment.
“Something like that. But I gotta go. Hospitals make me antsy and you’ve got a virtual arsenal of people out there dying to get in here and help you. None of them too happy about my presence, either.”
She let familiar anger grip her, pushing the abject terror at going home with the human being in her arms out of her head for a minute.
“Go on. I’ll call you.”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You wanted it this way, remember? Just you and her,” he said, reminding her of her stupid words, spoken out of anger at herself for getting knocked up in the first place, like some ignorant teenager who didn’t know any better.
“I know.” She looked down to hide the tears that kept forming. “So go.” She glanced back up at him, the man she loved but refused to admit it, and bit back the urge to beg him to stay with her. She’d set the parameters and he was honoring them. End of story. End of her possible happily ever after, nuclear family, mom, dad, baby life. She squared her shoulders to hide how shitty she felt knowing he was doing exactly what she’d told him to do.
“Thanks for the pep talk. I got this.”
His smile was half-hearted. He moved away from her when there was at a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called out. “Jack was just leaving.” By the time he’d walked out, Sara realized too late that she never even asked if he wanted to hold the baby.
Chapter One
Seven Months Earlier
Sara stared out the window and willed the ever-present nausea away. Blake put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. She resisted the urge to step away. She was antsy, didn’t want anyone touching her, even her brother.
“You sure you don’t want me here for this?”
She nodded, biting her lip, watching for the two familiar cars to pull into her condo community lot. When they did, panic wrapped tight cords around her chest. She made a dash for the bathroom, dry heaving for the millionth time that day. While she was rinsing out her mouth, she heard Blake greet both Craig and Jack, their deep voices mixing, filling her small space.
Glancing in the mirror over the sink, she sighed.
I’d give anything to be somewhere, anywhere, else right now.
Her reflection mocked her with its unhelpful silence. She turned at a soft knock on the door, and saw her brother standing in the doorway.
“I’m coming,” s
he whispered. Blake gave her a quick hug, then gripped her arms and stared into her eyes.
“You can do this. You know Mom and Dad understand. They get it. We’re all behind you. Now go out there and tell them both what you invited them over to hear. It’s the only way. You’ve been avoiding them both since the end of the year. Time to woman up.”
She nodded, and leaned into him for a moment. Blake had always been there for her. She really wanted him to stay, but she had to do this – have this conversation – alone.
“I could crawl in bed right now and sleep for hours.” She pulled back, ran a hand over her eyes. “I feel like an alien version of myself. I hate it.” He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out to the living room, kissed her forehead and slipped out the front door without another word.
She paused, watching the two men as they sat at her small dining room table. Jack Gordon, tall, ruggedly handsome in his dark suit, staring at his smart phone, blue eyes glittering with concentration. Craig Robinson, his easy, loose-limbed frame draped over a nearby chair, in khakis and a ever-wrinkled-yet-somehow-perfect button down, deep brown eyes staring right at her. She gave him a weak smile and stepped into the room.
“I’m pregnant.”
They blinked and their mouths fell open in unison. If it weren’t so god awful, it would be hilarious. She sat, put her shaking hands on her knees, and stayed quiet. Saliva flooded her mouth, announcing an impending bout of puke, but she kept it at bay. Jack spoke first.