“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just nervous about today. Plus, Owen threw a fit when my mother came to get him. He thinks he’s old enough to stay home alone. Boys,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “It’s times like this when I wish I would’ve had a girl.”
“Yeah, but she probably would’ve been worse, especially if she’d been anything like you. Young Katie was a high maintenance, bratty know-it-all,” I tease.
Katie chuckles, grabbing her purse. “You’re probably right. Should be careful what I wish for and more thankful for what I have. I’d rather deal with a boy because our biggest arguments revolve around showering and video games.”
“Exactly.” I nod as we go to her car.
After we buckle in, Katie hands me a piece of paper with several addresses written down. I notice one’s a block down from my house. “Oh, I recognize this one. I think an older couple used to live there, and after their kids grew up, they moved to Alaska or something.”
“Really? So it’s not haunted. Noted.” She snickers as she drives us across town.
“So how’s the single life?” Last week, I told her all the details of Robert’s and my breakup and how I have zero plans to work it out with him.
I hold back a grin but fail miserably.
“Oh, excuse me,” she says all dramatically. “What I should’ve asked was how are you and Tyler?”
“Good. Actually great, if I’m being honest. We’ve been inseparable, and while we haven’t put a label on it, it feels official. I can’t stop kissing and touching him anytime he’s near. It’s never felt like this with anyone but him.”
Katie glances at me. “Happiness fits you, Gemma. Have y’all…you know?”
“No,” I hurry and reply. “Not yet. We’re taking things one day at a time. I appreciate how patient he is, though I’m ready to jump his bones,” I admit, and Katie chuckles.
“Don’t blame you a bit.” She drives to the end of the cul-de-sac and turns off the car.
The street is packed with vehicles, and other people are taking the sidewalk that leads to the perfectly landscaped yard. The suburban neighborhood is cute, and I could picture Katie living here.
“If you’re already like this and you haven’t banged it out, I can only imagine how you’ll be when you finally do.” She waggles her brows, and I snort.
“If…we do,” I correct, but I know it’s just a matter of time.
“You might be able to pull that on someone else, but it’s more than obvious how you both feel. Always has been.” We go to the front door and are escorted in by a real estate agent. While the outside of the house is brick with picture-perfect shutters, the inside is a living time capsule. Brown shag carpet and flowered wallpaper are in the main rooms. Katie and I give ourselves a tour, and when we enter the bathroom, the Pepto pink fixtures and tile nearly blinds us.
She turns to me, her mouth in a firm line. “Okay, this is where I draw the line.”
“But you can remodel and make it however you want,” I remind her, snickering, but she’s not convinced. The rooms are large, but the ceilings are low, and it all needs work. While I think she could handle it, this place would be a huge undertaking. Before we go, the real estate agent hands her a card.
“Thank you,” Katie says. “How’s the neighborhood? Are there a lot of children?”
The woman contemplates as though searching for the correct answer. “Not really. Lots of older people.” She pauses with a smile. “But it’s very quiet, and the crime rate is low,” she adds.
“Great. Thanks so much,” Katie politely says before we leave. “No, but hell no,” she mumbles when we’re out of the door.
“We still have four others to see. That’s just the first,” I remind her.
She nods and laughs. “Hopefully, it gets better. Too bad I don’t have Chip and Joanna with me. They’d be able to help me find a good buy.”
“Who?” I ask as she cranks the car, then takes off.
“The Gaines. Fixer Upper! They had a show on HGTV.” She glares at me as though I’ve committed a crime.
“I don’t watch much cable,” I explain. “Just movies and Hallmark.”
“There are tons of reruns you can watch. They’re amazing and gave me a lot of inspiration for what I want. I highly recommend it if you have any spare time.” We make our way into an older neighborhood with trees so large they shade the streets. Once she parks, Katie turns to me. “Is this the right address?”
“Yep, this is it,” I look at the paper and confirm.
“This house looks creepy, doesn’t it?” She stares at the two-story mansion that hasn’t been touched in decades, the paint chipping and flaking on all the boards. It seems like the kind of house where a villain in Scooby Doo would hide, and I’m kinda scared to go inside.