Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE THAT WAS NEVER OURS
The limestone house west of Austin had been my dream.
Three bedrooms.
A wide porch.
Oak trees.
A kitchen with enough room for a long wooden table.
Everett and I had driven past it dozens of times.
We'd talked about raising children there.
Planting roses.
Growing old.
Now the house was listed for sale again.
I found it online one evening.
The photographs looked exactly as I remembered.
Warm stone.
White shutters.
A porch swing.
I stared at the screen.
Then closed the laptop.
The next morning, Rebecca called.
“We've reviewed the house-fund documents.”
I sat down.
“And?”
“The collateral arrangement appears to have been executed without your informed consent. We're pursuing remedies.”
I exhaled.
“Can Everett undo it?”
“Possibly, depending on the lender's agreement and the underlying documents.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Rebecca continued.
“Madison, you may need to provide statements and supporting records.”
“I will.”
That afternoon, Everett sent an email.
I don't understand why you're making this legal.
I stared.
Then laughed bitterly.
Because apparently, protecting my savings was unreasonable.
I forwarded the email to Rebecca.
Then deleted it.
That weekend, I drove past the limestone house.
I parked across the street.
Looked at the porch.
The oak trees.
The windows.
And cried.
Not because I still wanted Everett.
Because I was grieving the future I'd imagined.
A car pulled up behind me.
I looked in the mirror.
Nathaniel Reed stepped out.
He approached cautiously.
“Madison?”
I wiped my face.
“Oh, God.”
He stopped.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.”
I laughed shakily.
“What are you doing here?”
He gestured toward the house.
“I'm the architect working on the renovation proposal.”
I stared.
“Of course you are.”
He smiled faintly.
“Small world.”
He looked at my face.
“Are you okay?”
I hesitated.
Then shook my head.
“Not really.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Want some company?”
I looked toward the house.
Then back at him.
“Yes.”
He leaned against the fence beside me.
Didn't ask questions.
Didn't offer advice.
Didn't tell me to stop crying.
May you like
He simply stayed.
And somehow, that helped.
