“I bought a foreclosure about six years ago. Got a great deal.”
The road winds through the kind of neighborhood I can only dream of living in.
“How old were you when you bought it?”
“Twenty-six.”
“You bought a house in this neighborhood at twenty-six.” I can’t fathom that. Also, now I know he’s thirty-two—six years older than me.
“I got it for about half what they go for normally. The bank was eager to unload it.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s also now mortgaged again to get my business off the ground, so don’t be too impressed. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs.”
“What does that expression mean—‘up to your eyeballs’?”
“‘It means I’m in deep.”
“Ah, I see, and I’m impressed. You own a home and a business at thirty-two.”
“I’ve been lucky, and I know it. My uncle gave me an awesome job when I was sixteen that allowed me to make and save the money I needed for the down payment, and my dad helped me navigate the process to bid on a foreclosure.”
“It’s more than luck. It’s also hard work and… What’s the word…”
“Determination?”
“Yes, that’s it. Determination.” I make a mental note to add that one to my list of new words.
“Your English is fantastic.”
“I don’t know about that, but it’s getting better. I try to learn new words and expressions every day. I hope you don’t mind when I ask what something means.”
“Of course not. Ask me anything you want.” He pulls into the driveway of a two-story home painted white with gorgeous landscaping that includes palm trees.
I love palm trees and always have. Looking at them makes me happy. “This is your house?”
“Yep. Come on in. I just need to grab a quick shower and the gifts for my family.” He’s out of the car and unbuckling Mateo from his car seat while I’m still processing the fact that he lives in a palace. At least that’s what it looks like to me. I experience an odd twinge of anxiety as I follow him into the house after he punches in a code on the front door.
My mouth falls open as I take in high ceilings, an open floor plan, a grand staircase and a pool in the backyard that I can see through French doors to the patio. I can’t believe he actually lives here.
“Sofia?”
I realize I’m still standing just inside the door.
“Do you want to come in?”
Nico’s holding my son and looking at me as if he’s wondering what’s the matter with me. I’m wondering the same thing. What the hell am I even doing in a house like this with a man like him? But I can’t be rude, so I step forward and take my son from him.
“I’ll be quick. Make yourselves at home.”
Mateo wants to get down, so I lower him to the tile floor and hold his hand when he leads me to check out Nico’s huge Christmas tree.
“My sisters did that for us,” he says from the kitchen, where he’s downing a beverage. “They can’t bear that I don’t own a single Christmas decoration. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea, soda?”
“I’m good, thank you.”
“How about Mateo?”