June, three months later
Ian
“This house is beautiful, Ian. Perhaps your best one yet.” Francine Tremblay had been my real estate agent since I did my first flip. She was a good negotiator and had an eye for properties with potential.
“Yeah, it turned out good,” I admitted.
She ran a hand over the white granite kitchen counter. “This colour combo—white and grey—is very au courant. I always say that kitchens can sell a house, and this one will.”
Em popped into the kitchen holding a vase of bright flowers. She looked like she did when she walked down the aisle at Mason and Abby’s wedding—except with less cleavage. Today, she wore a pretty summer dress.
“The photographer’s almost done,” Em told us as she put the flowers on the table. Francine had a guy taking photos for the real estate listing, which was going up next week. The market was hot, and there had been a few bidding wars, so I stood to make a lot of money on this place. Of course as real estate prices rose, my next place got more expensive.
“Did you get those listings I sent you? I found some possibilities for your next place.” Francine said.
“Yeah, thanks. But Em’s getting a say on our next neighbourhood. Next place might be a keeper.”
Em’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.
“Oh no. Does this mean the end of your side hustle, Ian? You’re one of my favourite clients,” said Francine.
I shrugged. “We’ll see. Once I get Em trained up, maybe I can flip ’em even faster.”
Em slipped in beside me and put her arms around my waist. “I am a fully qualified painter of baseboards now. At this rate, I’ll graduate to walls by next year.”
Francine smiled. She liked Em and told me she was a “smart cookie.”
Francine didn’t know half of it. These days, I relaxed my dumb rules and let Em do all the things she was good at. She’d gone over my finances and made me put my savings into mutual funds and T-bills instead of leaving them in the bank earning shitty interest rates.
“Okay, I’ve already set up the lockbox, and the agent’s open is next week. I’ll let you know if I’m bringing clients this week,” Francine said.
“Great, thanks.” I could stay at Em’s place anytime I needed to make myself scarce.
Once Francine and her photographer left, Em attacked me. She grabbed me by the shoulders and tried to shake me but couldn’t move me at all.
“Ian! You don’t get to announce things like my next house might be a keeper without telling me first. Does that mean what I think it means?”
I put my arms around her. “Whatta you think it means?”
She huffed. Angry Em was hot even if she wasn’t really angry. “Are you going to make me say everything? It means you want us to move in together.”
I let out a long sigh. “Okay, if you insist.”
She whacked her fists against my chest. “Ugh. Why do you minimize every romantic thing you do?”
I held her wrists, spread her arms apart and pulled that sweet body against mine. I kissed the tip of her nose. “I’d rather show you how I feel. Like last night.”
Last night was our last go at the sex swing and it was epic. Em twirling around on my cock was peak pleasure—for both of us. This morning I’d removed the hook, then patched and primed the ceiling. One more coat of paint and there would be no trace of all our fun times except for the hot memories.
Em was in sync with me. “Are we going to have a sex swing in our next house?” She pushed up against me as she asked. Like I needed any encouragement.
“It will be the first thing I put in,” I replied.
“Goody,” she said, then pulled away from me and grabbed her purse. “Okay, now let’s discuss the financial aspects of moving in together.”
I sighed. Em and her lists. She already had her fancy pen and her index cards out. She patted the barstool beside her, and I sat down.
“If we’re going to live together, we should ensure that your initial investment is protected.” Then she outlined her usual complicated plan. But it was pretty decent of her. I’d always worried about money, and now she was making sure that if we broke up, I’d get everything back. Not that I was worried about us splitting. Both of us were too stubborn…and too much in love.
“I have savings too. If we’re getting a place together, I want to pay my share,” said Em.
“I’ve got this.”
“No, Ian. I want to put my money into our home too. Or if you prefer, we can use my money to pay for your next investment property. But whatever we do, it’s going to be 50/50.”
Maybe she was right. When Em told me how much money she’d saved up, it was pretty impressive. But she also had a long-term plan—of course—for investing that money, and real estate was part of that. If she had ways of multiplying my savings, why not take advantage?
“Well, if I’m gonna live with an economist, I guess I should let her make the economic decisions,” I said.
“Actually, I’m an analyst.”
“Oh, an a-nal-list. Then I should let her make the anal sex decisions,” I replied.
Em blushed. I now knew that her blushes began right between those amazing tits and moved up to her cheeks. She could be shy and horny at the same time.
“Well, I say more anal sex then,” she said.
Yeehaw. Yeah, that was my girlfriend’s sex maniac side. I’d introduced sweet Em to all kinds of new tricks, and she enjoyed them all. Never swaps or threesomes, though. No way I was sharing my little dime with anyone else.
“We could start right now.” I slipped my hand underneath one round ass check and squeezed.
Em slid off the barstool. “No, we can’t. I have to start cooking for tonight.”
Once my houses were complete, I usually sold them and moved on. But Em had persuaded me to have a dinner party first and show the place off to our friends. After all, it wasn’t like the old days when having your buddies over for a rager meant destroying your crib.
“Okay. What can I do to help?” I knew there was an index card with my name at the top.
When the doorbell rang, Em whipped off her apron and pulled me by the hand. “This is so exciting. Our first big dinner party together.”
I guess it was, but we already did a lot of entertaining. Mason and Abby had been over to dinner at Em’s many times. Any of my buddies who dropped by here to help were treated to food and drinks and Em’s friendly welcome. This house felt warmer when Em was in it. But if a dinner party meant multiple courses, fancy wine, and flowers on the table, then yes, it was our first.
Abby, Mason, Mac, and Sophia were all waiting outside when we opened the door.
“Welcome. Did you guys come together?” Em asked.
“No, we just arrived at the same time,” Sophia explained.
“We’re on time because Abby couldn’t wait to see your place,” Mason added.
“Oh, let me take you on a tour,” Em said. “Ian’s done such an incredible job. Francine said it’s his best home ever.”
“Why am I not your listing agent?” Abby groused.
“Because I’m loyal. Feel free to bring your clients in and make me an offer. Preferably over asking.”
Abby made a face at me, then took off on the tour with Em and Sophia. I could hear the women exclaiming over the living room and Em bragging about my “attention to detail.”
“Want a drink?” I asked Mason and Mac.
They nodded, and we went into the kitchen and got some beer.
“To your new place,” Mac said. The three of us clinked bottles.
I shoved a platter of munchies towards them. “Em made a bunch of stuff to go with our drinks. Gotta warn you, though, she made enough dinner to feed twenty people.”
Both Mac and Mason looked happy at that thought. The way the kitchen smelled was already making me hungry. I could hear Em’s giggle upstairs. It was a good feeling to be in a house that was all done, with my good friends here, and the woman I loved upstairs. It felt like a real home.
Em
“And this is the master bedroom.” I pulled open the door on a room that was now staged perfectly. It looked contemporary yet homey.
I loved everything about this house. The beautiful wood floors, the bay window in the living room, the contemporary kitchen, the freestanding tub in the main bathroom, and the iridescent tiles in the ensuite shower. Well, everything but the neighbourhood. It was up and coming, but a little too edgy for a chicken like me.
“It’s like a relaxing retreat,” Sophia said.
Abby frowned. “Not to nitpick, but there’s a patch on your ceiling that needs a touch up. I only noticed because everything else has been perfect.”
Memories of last night’s orgasmic sex swing session made me flush. “Oh, er, I’ll tell Ian to fix that.”
“Is it hot in here?” Abby was staring at me.
“Did you see the closet space?” I asked. That would be a sure-fire distraction for Abby. A moment later she was cooing over the built-ins.
“I can’t get over how sophisticated everything looks,” Sophia said, motioning towards the light fixture and the subtle gradations in wall colour. “Maybe I should get the name of Ian’s decorator.”
“He uses a stager, but he makes all the design decisions himself,” I said.
“Wow.” Sophia didn’t betray her surprise, but anyone would have difficulty envisioning a guy who dressed like Ian as an aesthetic savant.
“I know. I couldn’t believe it at first, but now I get Ian’s opinion on everything I get for my place. Sometimes even my clothes.” Although Ian had a tendency to choose more low-cut tops than was appropriate. I compromised by letting him choose my lingerie. Hey, he was a very visual guy.
We followed Abby to the upstairs laundry room, where she was caressing the washer/dryer combo. “I’ve been talking to Mason, and we want to buy Ian’s next house. His homes are so liveable, and he considers all the details. Look at the appliances in this place.”
“You can’t. His next house is going to be for himself.”
Abby scoffed. “Why would Ian need a big place just for—oh my God! Are you guys moving in together?”
I grinned. “We are. I mean, not immediately, but yes.”
Abby’s mouth made a delighted O. Then she hugged me. “I knew that you two would be a perfect match.” She had actually said the opposite, but at this point, who cared? All that mattered was that Ian and I were together.
Sophia gave me a gentler hug. “You’re both so happy these days. You’re always smiling, and Ian seems, hmmm—less cynical? He’s more friendly and open. I’ve been enjoying getting to know him better, he’s so hilarious in this dry way.”
“You’re exactly right,” I said. Leave it to Sophia to put a finger on the new Ian. He used to expect the worst. Now he had relaxed into our happiness. He was no longer ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
“Remember Abby’s wedding rehearsal, when I was so upset?” Both of my friends nodded. “It was because I was jealous of both of you and your lovely relationships. And then I hated myself for being such a horrible friend.”
Abby squeezed my hand. “You’ve never been a horrible friend. You’ve always been there for me, Em. You took care of me after all my breakups, like when Rem dumped me on live TV. You helped me when I had to meet Mason’s parents. You pulled my whole wedding together.”
“With Natalie’s help,” I said.
Abby shook her head. “If Natalie had her way, my wedding would have been all upscale and refined.” She motioned to her psychedelic orange-and-pink A-line dress. A sure sign of summer was when Abby’s sixties dresses appeared. “Refined is so not my style.”
Sophia patted my other arm. “You’re a very generous friend. The fact that you felt jealous and still gave all your time and energy is a testament to your loving nature.”
Then of course, I started to cry. Miss Waterworks.
As if sensing a disturbance in the emotional force, Ian called out, “Are you guys almost done? I’m getting hungry.”
We sat down at the dinner table, which I’d set with my silverware and linens. Despite his good taste in home décor, Ian thought that IKEA plates and flatware were good enough. It was a warm June night, and I’d planned the menu accordingly. For the first course, I brought out small cups of my chilled almond buttermilk soup along with tiny chive popovers.
“What’s with the dollhouse-sized food?” Ian asked.
“Ian! It’s the way you do things when you serve multiple courses. You don’t want to overwhelm the palate.” I pretended not to see him roll his eyes.
The diplomatic Mason jumped in. “I think what Ian is saying is that this soup is so delicious that it makes you want bigger portions.”
Ian smirked and took three more popovers. He was blessed with a metabolism that meant he could eat everything and never gain weight. That was fine with me, because I was never going to be done admiring Ian’s perfect body. And he’d never gone back to his mullet, thank goodness. I took in his gorgeousness and sent up a prayer of thanks to the relationship gods.
“This is yummy. Cold soups are so sophisticated,” Sophia said.
This was the first time we’d all been together in weeks. We saw Mason and Abby regularly, but Henry and Sophia had been gone all of May.
“How was your trip to Japan?” Abby asked. Henry’s band had done a month-long tour of Japan, and Sophia had gone along.
“Japan is such a beautiful country. There are tiny shrines in the midst of their daily routine—like a pause for contemplation.” Henry’s words were so poetic. I was certain that Sophia never had to beg for romantic moments.
But nowadays, I preferred Ian’s deeds over words. Like the May long weekend, when we went to Toronto to visit my family. While I attended two baby showers for Sky, Ian rebuilt my parent’s front porch. He even ate a second helping of my mother’s dairy-free, gluten-free, flavour-free raw dessert. My parents loved Ian. And now that we were in a real relationship, I’d never have to explain about our fake beginning.
I tuned back into the Japan discussion.
“The fans were so dedicated. They knew all the lyrics to the songs and brought vinyl albums to be signed,” said Sophia.
Henry nodded. “Yeah, sometimes it was weird. The audience was so quiet we thought they were asleep. But afterwards, they’d applaud and cheer.”
“They were just listening hard,” said Sophia. “As they should.” Henry reached over and squeezed her hand.
I cleared the dishes as Henry told us about their adventures in Japanese dining, including, ugh, live shrimps. Next up was the main course which featured a crown roast of lamb, roasted new potatoes, and a broccoli and red pepper sauté.
“No live crustaceans tonight,” I said as I put the lamb in front of Ian to carve. I’d shown him a YouTube video on carving this type of roast. One viewing would be all it took for him to slice perfectly.
“That’s good news,” Ian said. He considered himself a meat-and-potatoes guy, but I was always pushing the limits of that.
“Yabba dabba do,” muttered Ian as he carved. He told me in the kitchen that with the big bones sticking up in a circle, the roast looked like something prehistoric.
Sophia, who was sitting next to him, started giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Henry asked.
“Does this not look like something the Flintstones would eat?” Ian said.
Abby sputtered and almost spit out her water. I tried to glare at Ian but ended up laughing. Everyone joined in. This was how life should be—it wasn’t the picture-perfect meals that mattered, but all of us having fun. Ian liked to keep things real.
“Well, maybe it looks like dinosaur, but it tastes delicious,” said Henry once we’d all gotten our main courses.
“You’re an amazing cook,” said Mason. “It’s like restaurant food.”
“I eat like this all the time,” bragged Ian.
“Thank you,” I said. But the biggest compliment was the silence as everyone ate.
“Did your being away for a month cause any issues at work?” I asked Sophia.
“No, it actually worked out well. I had to visit two client offices in Tokyo and ended up getting some referral business. Plus Ryan and I landed a new tech account, so right now I’m in their good books.” As if Sophia was ever in the bad books at her law firm.
“Tell us more about this film you were in,” Mason said.
“Pete’s an indie filmmaker. He followed us through Japan and he’s making a short doc about the tour,” Henry said.
“Like Scorsese’s The Last Waltz?” asked Mason, who was a font of obscure knowledge.
“Well, we didn’t break up at the end,” replied Henry.
“It’s a promotional opportunity,” said Sophia. “Adrienne’s idea.”
Adrienne was both Henry’s ex and now his song-writing partner. Another example of Sophia’s chill. I would have been a jealous wreck if Ian worked with his ex. I still couldn’t hear the song Gloria without getting peeved.
And a film? How big would Henry’s band become? In the time I’d known him, he’d gone from practically unknown to semi-famous. But those two would take everything in stride. I admired the way they balanced their lives. As happy as she was with him, Sophia still treasured her time alone when she could focus on her work and her family. Not like me—I needed my boyfriend to be around a lot. I smiled across the table at Ian, and he winked at me.
Then Mason told us his latest work news: a trip to Washington to meet colleagues at NASA. Mason’s voice rose in excitement as he talked about his facilities tour.
“We have other news too,” said Abby.
Mason frowned. “Abby, you said—”
She waved a hand. “I know. But these guys are our best friends, I have to tell them.”
She waited a dramatic ten seconds. “I’m pregnant!”
I shrieked. Abby never said much, but I knew Mason really wanted kids. And Natalie wanted grandchildren too. This was amazing news.
“Oh wow. When?” was all I could manage to get out.
“I’m not even two months yet, so January,” she replied. I should have guessed. Abby was extra excited, like she had some big secret. And she hadn’t had wine with dinner.
Mason’s brow furrowed. “I thought it wasn’t safe to say anything until the first trimester was over.”
She kissed his cheek. “I know, I know. But these guys won’t tell. And you know I can’t keep a secret.”
“What about my parents?” Mason and Abby began a heated discussion about who got to know when.
I got up and gave Abby a hug, then started clearing the dishes. I had a sorbet course next, then coffee and dessert, a glamourous chocolate flan with caramel topping.
Ian followed me into the kitchen with more dishes. “You okay?” he asked.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I said.
“I dunno. Abby being pregnant?” Ian’s leaps of intuitive understanding were no longer a surprise. He must have noticed my jealousy around my sister’s pregnancy.
“I think those things bothered me more when I was discontented in my personal life. But I’m very happy now.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. He leaned down and kissed me. We both tasted like rosemary and lamb.
“I’m sure you’re going to go nuts over their kid,” Ian said.
I leaned against his broad chest. “So I like babies. You should be happy that I’ll get to work out my baby urges on someone else’s kids.”
I still wanted kids, of course. But being with Ian had taught me patience. Maybe things would turn out exactly the way I’d planned: a big wedding and then a family. After all, in only six months Ian had gone from a commitment-phobe to someone who wanted to move in together.
But even if he never came around to my plans, it didn’t matter. I’d made the decision that Ian—with his solid love and unquestioned support—was more important to me than goals I’d set as a teenager. Ian’s past had made him nervous and stubborn about how much he was willing to change at one time. Nothing I did would make a difference, no matter how much he loved me. So worrying and scheming were pointless. Whatever would happen, would happen. Besides, once Ian decided something, he would stick by it. And I already knew he’d be an amazing father if that was what he wanted.
Ian leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “I’m willing to practice making babies with you.”
I giggled. “Ahh, reps again. Well, practice makes perfect.”
“Nuh-uh. Perfect practice makes perfect.” He licked the lobe of my ear, and I moaned out loud.
“What’s going on in the kitchen?” Abby called out. “It’s like you two can’t wait to be alone.”
I picked up the tray of sorbets and sailed back out into the dining room where our friends awaited. “Oh Abby, you old married people have no idea how much fun it is to be single,” I said.
Well, I wasn’t really single. But I was having fun.
The End