Page 9

The words hit like a gut punch. I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
Bryan doesn’t react. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge me.
He nods at Henshaw, his voice cool, detached. “Paul?”
Henshaw clears his throat. “Emma, your grandmother left the beach house to the both of you. Half each.”
The chair creaks as I sit up straighter. “Wait, what?”
“To retain ownership, you both have to live there together for three months.”
The room tilts. Three months? With him?
I turn to Bryan, expecting him to be as horrified as I am. But he is unreadable. His brow furrows, but that’s the only sign that he’s even remotely rattled.
My fingers clench around the armrest. “This is ridiculous, he doesn’t even need it!”
That does something. His head tilts, slow and calculated, like a predator sizing up prey.
And then, his voice, low, amused, smug. He has a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Don’t be so sure.”
Something about his tone needles under my skin, lighting up every nerve ending. I straighten, heat creeping up my neck. “You’re actually considering this?”
He shrugs. “I’m interested. Very interested.”
My stomach knots. The way he says it, like he knows this bothers me, makes my blood pressure spike. I can’t tell if he wants the house or if he just wants to watch me squirm.
"Mr. Henshsaw, you know my Grandma was sick, possibly she wasn't in her right state of mind."
"Oh, but she was. Everything is documented,"
I pause, my heart thundering against my chest. All I wanted was to come back to town, start my life afresh quietly. I will not let that be ruined by having a man who clearly hates me in my space.
"Is there an alternative? I mean maybe a condition where we don't have to live together."
Henshaw clears his throat. “I'm afraid there is not. It’s this or lose it. She stated that if either of you refuse to fulfill the condition, the house will go to charity.”
"Wait what? What if he refuses?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to leave that house to you. Gracie gave me half of it and I intend to get it." His deadly calm voice fills the room sending shivers up my spine.
We lock eyes, mine blazing, his defiant. Neither of us backs down.
The silence stretches, thick, heavy, charged. Then it occurs to me that if he decides to back off, the house will go to charity. Why on earth did Grandma do a thing like this? My eyes burn with tears, but I refuse to let them fall.
Let him hate me. I cannot afford to lose the house, so if it means we share for three months, so be it.
Henshaw exhales, relieved, and slides a set of keys across the desk. “What do you both decide?”
"I'll take the condition," Bryan agrees.
"Perfect, and you?" Henshaw turns his eyes to my direction.
"I'll take it,"
"Perfect," Henshaw says with a smile.
"I believe you have your keys, so I'll just hand the spare to Bryan."