“So,” Spencer said, peering at us both with shrewd eyes above a blurry smile. “Just to be clear before we go any further, what’s your price range?”
“$250,000,” I blurted at the same time Carla blurted, “$350,000.”
While we chuckled, nervously, Spencer frowned and tore at the edges of his paper placemat. “You guys haven’t talked about this?”
I shrugged and Carla made an apologetic “I’m sorry” face. “We’re just kind of exploring our options at the moment,” she said while I nodded.
“This is more of an exploratory meeting,” I chimed in as Mavis approached with steaming coffee mugs and tiny juice glasses.
Spencer grumbled and slid a battered notepad from the inner pocket of an ill-fitting jacket. “So,” he grumbled, sounding vaguely paternal, “let’s ‘explore’ the fact that, in a town like Siesta Key, those figures won’t get you much.”
Carla and I turned toward each other with doubtful glances. “Not for nothing, Spencer,” I said, voice turning toward the gritty side. “But even in South Beach a good real estate agent could find us something perfect for either of those amounts.”
Carla’s face crumpled, as if I might offend, but Spencer hardly noticed my tone—or slight remonstration. “This ain’t South Beach, kid,” he said, dispensing with the formalities. “You’ve got a smaller, more competitive market and less stacked space in the form of condos or tall buildings. Most properties are oceanfront, which also drives the price up, and county codes limited the construction of new apartment buildings years ago, so…”
“So how much will, say, 300 grand get us, Spencer?” Carla blurted, showing a little grit as well. Spencer might have had a good twenty years on us, but Carla was a business owner and we both had property back in South Beach, so we weren’t exactly new to the negotiating table.
“It depends on what you’re looking for,” he said, apparently reconciled to the fact that we weren’t reality stars with unlimited budgets. “I’ve got half a dozen charming fixer uppers in that price range, several starter homes, a few condos and even a few steals. I just wanted to know what I’m working with so I can steer you in the right direction…”
Mavis brought plates just then, small ones featuring a slice of bacon, one fried egg and two pieces of toast each, and I smiled at Spencer’s version of the Business Breakfast Special— probably something off menu he’d pre-arranged with the restaurant years ago for something like $2.99 each.
It worked for me, though. Talking numbers and signing contracts had found me with less of an appetite than usual and as Carla shoved bits of egg around her plate—it was clear I wasn’t alone.
Chapter 45
Carla
I pushed bacon and eggs around my plate and watched Spencer’s face sharpen as he scribbled figures on his notepad. I’d been nervous all morning, the realization that Kellan and I weren’t just talking about living together—but owning a property together—slowly dawned on me.
Kellan seemed anxious as well, barely eating and making mincemeat of the paper towel that lay, half-shredded, on top of his barely touched breakfast plate. For his part, Spencer seemed not to notice—or care.
“Now, I assume since you’re looking to settle down in Siesta Key…” Spencer paused to stuff his face full of a wedge of toast, dripping with butter and jam.
In the brief silence, I glanced at Kellan, watching his face freeze—as had mine—at the clueless realtor’s mention of “settle down”.
Is that what we’re doing? I wondered, pushing a rubbery blob of egg white around my plate. Settling down?
In all the hubbub with Roy and Mom, I’d been running on impulse. Driving back to Siesta Key and racing straight to the hospital. In retrospect, I’d never stopped racing. From the hospital to the hardware store for supplies to build a ramp. From the post office to the bank, securing mom’s credit consolidation loan. From the marina to Kellan’s bed and back again, both of us with full days and never stopping to think about the future. Well, not our future at least.
Now I had to wonder if Kellan was really serious about “settling down,” even for a few years. He was so young and handsome, so eligible for so many reasons. Would tiny Siesta Key, with its slow pace and lack of nightlife, be enough to satisfy him—long term?
Sure, I reasoned, it was fine for now. Hell, between working, care giving and fucking we were too tired for much else. “Settling down” sounded relaxing, even romantic, at the moment. But what about one year—even two years, from now? When the dust had settled and the working, the care giving, even the fucking got old? Would settling down sound like such a good idea then, or would it feel more like a prison sentence to Kellan?
Or even myself?
The chewing stopped, the pause ended and Spencer got back down to business. “Siesta Key has two main features going for it: ocean view or river view. So, which do you two prefer?”
As if mirroring our earlier blunder where I’d called out one figure and Kellan had called another, he blurted “Oceanfront” just as I replied, “River view.”
We laughed, nervously, but there was nothing funny about Spencer’s reaction, which was his most parental yet. “Okay, guys, listen…” He glanced at his watch, mid-sentence, making me feel childish. “I’m happy to help you once you’ve got your act together and know what you want…”
“We do know what we want, Spencer,” I said, the weight of the last few months giving my voice an icy tone. “We want your help, and are paying for it in the form of commission, are we not?”
Both Kellan and Spencer turned to me with confused expressions, but I was past the point of blushing. “Well, aren’t we?” I pressed.
Spencer put down his coffee mug without taking a sip. “Yes, if we ever agree on what type of place you guys want.”
I shrugged, indifferent. “Here’s the type of place we want, Spencer: a nice one, with a water view, in the $300,000 range. Can you help us with that, or not?”
Spencer gave me a blank look, making me wonder if I’d overreacted. Then he broke into a wide grin, chuckling as he reached for the check. “You may not be Roy’s daughter by blood, Carla, but he sure has rubbed off on you over the years!”
“I’m assuming that’s a compliment?” I asked, sagging back against the booth with relief.
“The best kind,” Spencer said, laying down a twenty dollar bill on the table for the bill. “I tried to get him down on price every time we went out fishing together, and he never would budge.”
I smiled at the comment, picturing Roy rolling his eyes while Spencer tried to reduce the price on an all day, even an all weekend, fishing excursion. “How is your old man, by the way?” Spencer asked, voice softer and lower than it had been during breakfast.
“Getting stronger every day,” I said with pride.
He grinned. “Good,” he said, standing abruptly and indicating the meeting was, apparently, over. “We’ll make sure you two have a beautiful place on the water for him to come visit, okay?”
I nodded, smiling all the more when Kellan laced his fingers through mine, squeezing them gently in solidarity. “That… that would be nice, Spencer,” I said, voice thick with emotion. “He’d like that.”
Chapter 46
Kellan
“Feel that breeze off the water?” Spencer boomed, a few days later, showing us the third house of the afternoon.
Carla beamed, her face ecstatic as she peered out the sun room windows at the shimmering pool. “It’s beautiful,” she said, opening the sliding glass door to step onto the patio deck. “Don’t you think so, Kellan?”
I nodded, following her around the small, kidney shaped pool (which had seen better days) down a small, sloped embankment (that could use a good mowing) to a weathered dock (that felt vaguely precarious beneath our feet).
“It is,” I said in a tone I hoped she’d ignore. She didn’t.
“You don’t like it?” she sighed, sagging against a weathered dock post. She looked radiant in a casual ski
rt and sleeveless blouse, auburn hair pulled back to reveal a disappointed face.
“I do,” I said, albeit unconvincingly.
“You didn’t like the first two Spencer showed us this morning, either.”
I shrugged. “They weren’t bad,” I said. “I’ve never done this before. I’m waiting for something to blow me away.”
She rolled her eyes, scanning the gentle waves lapping against the dock. “We both own property in South Beach, Kellan. This isn’t your first time at the rodeo.”
I nodded, seeing her point. Then I took her hand, glad Spencer had taken a call and was pacing the pool, haranguing some poor assistant about this, that or the other. Pulling her tighter I winked and murmured, “No, but it’s my first time doing this with someone I love, so…”
The word made her blush, as it always did, and I wondered—not for the first time—if I didn’t use that word, “love,” too loosely. But I couldn’t help it—it was how I felt. “Me too,” she said, noncommittally, as if afraid to use the “L-word” herself. “I just want things to be right.”
“Do you like this house?” I asked, turning my back to the water and admiring the humble one story fixer upper that, for $325,000, was still slightly above our budget.
“The house?” she asked. “Not so much. But the view is commanding, don’t you think?”
I turned to follow her eyes, gazing upon the rippled surface of Pelican River, a sizable body of water that ran through most of Siesta Key, adding to its tropical climate and soft daily breezes. The view was commanding, indeed: rippling river and tidy little houses lined up along the opposite side, most with docks and boats and pools and palm trees, just like every other riverfront house we’d looked at all morning.
Again, it was nice, but… not what I pictured waking up to each morning. “I agree,” I nodded. “I just want us both to be happy.”
“And you’d be happier with an ocean view, is that right?”
I chuckled. “I just can’t help it if I like the sound of crashing waves to lull me to sleep at night, Carla.”
“Trust me, Mister,” she purred, pulling me tight as Spencer continued to pace. “Once we get a place together, you’re not going to need any help getting to sleep.”
We chuckled and shared a quick kiss before Spencer cleared his throat and, the phone hid away, called out, “Kellan… a word?”
I arched one eyebrow at Carla, as if I was a schoolboy who’d been caught cheating on an exam. “Yes?” I called out, leaving her to her precious view on the riverside dock.
Spencer’s face looked stern, or at least concerned. It was hard to tell with him. “I thought you said the South Beach condo came with a garage, but it says you don’t have one.”
I smiled. To motivate him thoroughly, Carla and I had both allowed Spencer’s Miami office to rent out our South Beach condos while we cohabitated in Siesta Key. “The unit didn’t originally come with one,” I explained. “But one came up at auction a few years ago so I bought it under separate cover. You might be better off just selling it to another owner than throwing it into the rental.”
His eyes popped wide. “Great idea!” he said, reaching for his phone, no doubt to badger another assistant with more demands.
“Hey, listen,” I said before he could get carried away. “What’s with all the riverfront properties?”
He paused, phone halfway to his face. “What do you mean?”
We both turned to watch Carla, pacing idly on the dock, peering out at the water. “I thought I made it clear at breakfast the other day that, when possible, I’d like to check out oceanfront properties as well.”
He nodded, in understanding, then shook his head, as if refusing. “It’s a challenge finding them in your price range, Kellan.”
I clucked a tongue. Carla wasn’t the only one in this family who knew how to negotiate. “Not to be rude, Spencer, but… we just handed you two prime rental properties in South Beach. I can only imagine the income they’ll generate over the next few years, nor the commission you stand to make. If we were mistaken in putting our trust in you, please let me know before we go through with all this…”
His face reddened as he blustered. “Now hold on, Kellan. Look how happy Carla is, peering out at the river.”
I followed his eyes, admiring my beautiful lover as she tenderly wound a lock of red hair around one finger, lost in thought as her eyes traveled the rippling waves.
It made me happy to see her happy, but I knew that the view alone wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her. Not only that, but we’d both gotten used to condo living in South Beach, neither of our units far from the ever present ocean. Could either of us, could both of us, live without what we’d gotten so used to?
“I want her to be happy,” I confessed. “I also know that right now, with her stepfather’s condition and her mom relying on her so much, she’s stressed out, not sleeping, vulnerable. Since I’m helping, but not family, I want to be her voice of reason while we look at properties. Does that make sense?”
Spencer nodded, eyes softening. “Carla does seem… fragile… these days.”
“That’s an understatement,” I huffed, sounding protective—even overprotective. “It’s a big decision, and I don’t want to blow it.”
Spencer reached out, hand big and meaty against my shoulder. “Kid, if you want my opinion, Carla’s not the only one a little fragile these days.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Ya think?”
He squeezed my shoulder once more, laughing silently. “Look, my bad, kid. I do this every day, I want what’s best for my clients but I sometimes forget this isn’t their career. I think the three properties I showed you this morning are great, but I hear what you’re saying. Let me… let me throw a few oceanfront places into the mix and see what I can come up with. Will that work?”
I nodded, more relieved than I let on. I wasn’t sure why I was so ticked off about Spencer ignoring my requests and, he had a good point—if the river made Carla so happy, why would I want to live anywhere else?
I suppose it’s because I’d already given up so much to follow her already. Forget my modeling career, my lucrative income, the opportunities with Florida Faces. Forget my condo, the city that I loved and even nearby Miami. Now I was here, in tiny Siesta Key, steering a boat around all day, my best friend was also my first mate, my free time was spent retrofitting Roy’s house to be wheelchair and handicap-friendly and lately our idea of a big date was takeout Chinese in bed after another 16-hour day.
So maybe, selfishly, part of me wanted… what I wanted. To be considered, thought of, even if only by the realtor! “What are you two conspiring about?” Carla murmured, shocking me out of my reverie as I reached instinctively for her hand, if only to prove I wasn’t so selfish after all.
I opened my mouth to reply, but Spencer beat me to it. “Just some minor details about Kellan’s condo in South Beach,” he said, not quite lying, but not quite truthful, either. “What do you think of the place?”
Carla squeezed my hand, winking at me playfully. “It has… potential.”
We laughed, all for different reasons…
Chapter 47
Carla
I stood on the balcony, overlooking the sea, the familiar blue and green tones complimenting the waves crashing twelve feet below the condo Spencer had brought us to see.
It was small, but prominent, in one of Siesta Key’s premiere properties, a steal at $318,000, even if it was only 2,200-square feet. As Kellan followed Spencer around, puppy dog like, discussing the apartment’s “fiscal potential” and “rental history,” I tried to picture us both living there.
True, the rooms featured floor to ceiling windows and clean, modern lines, but it felt almost too modern, too sterile, as if we’d be living in a hotel room for the next few years. I wanted to say something to Kellan, to pull him away from Spencer’s big, rumpled side and get him alone, if not on the balcony then some other room, just to express my concerns.
A
nd why not? It wasn’t like he’d been shy complaining about all the riverfront homes Spencer had been showing us throughout the week. Sure, I knew he preferred the ocean to the river, but… did my opinion count? Weren’t we doing this together, he and I? Wasn’t this a joint decision?
If only we had time to sit down and talk between looking at homes, but with the fishing boat reaching peak season and Roy’s recovery at a vulnerable point, there was little time to do anything but meet Spencer wherever he wanted us to be, “ooh” and “aah” over the faucets and fixtures, appliances and view, and then get right back to whatever we were doing before his call.
Now I silently fumed, ignoring the beauty of the sea in favor of stewing over my own life. It wasn’t Kellan’s fault, or even Spencer’s, but the fact that we’d only seen three riverfront properties to seven oceanfront views made me suspect I was being neglected in the real estate department of my life, which naturally felt like every other area of my life.
I sighed and tried to focus on the crashing waves and rushing froth twelve floors below, wondering what it might feel like to stand here, on this same balcony, sipping coffee some sunny morning, enjoying the moment—and each other—by the sea.
What was I missing? I wondered, as I chafed at the idea. Why couldn’t I see the attraction? Was I merely spoiled by my years in South Beach, where the ocean was a part of nearly every view, including my own? Or was it more than that?
Before I could answer, Kellan drifted closer, tentatively, as he did most things these days. I felt bad that I seemed so brittle lately, but three hours of sleep every night, constant anxiety and being shut out of deciding where I was going to buy a home could do that to a girl!
“You okay?” he asked, sliding up behind me and scooping me up in his arms, a romantic gesture that would normally make me swoon.
“Sure,” I said, nodding unenthusiastically.
Forbidden: A Student Teacher Romance Page 24