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Jolene laughed. “I sure do. I kept having boys and wanted a girl.”
“And did you get one?” I hoped she had. Hell, I was half considering giving her mine, she seemed so committed to the task.
“I did!” Jolene said brightly. “Our fifth one is adopted. Her name is Lorelai. She lives right down the street from us.”
“That’s amazing,” I breathed.
We followed Bruce and Jolene to the backyard, which had a huge, gated pool and an impressive play area, including a tree house, swings, slides, and a sandbox. Gravity lunged into the sandbox without even asking for permission, doing the breaststroke in the hot sand.
I snorted out a laugh, shaking my head. “Sorry. This’ll make a mess, but I’ll clean it up.”
“You will not,” Jolene chided, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. A rush of gratitude coursed through me before she caught my gaze and said, “This weekend is not only about business, Dylan. It’s also about you. I’ll take care of Gravity. I have ten grandchildren between my children—I know what I’mdoing. And you’ll always be within reach, close enough to see her. We’ll shadow you while Bruce shows you around. There are so many things to see here.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to refuse. I had a hard time letting other people take care of Gravity. But I needed to let go if I was serious about going to school at some point in the near or distant future.
“Okay.” I nodded, my voice grainy and heavy with emotion. “Thank you.”
We started off with pony rides for Gravity and exploring the property. The Marshalls had owned this land since the 1800s, and every generation was engraved onto it, worked it, and cared for it.
“We Marshalls never did too badly for ourselves,” Bruce explained with a piece of straw wedged into the side of his mouth. “But it wasn’t until I worked for a technology company and came up with Telephonication that I saw a real big buck in my bank account.” Telephonication was the app everyone used to make video calls and have unencrypted conversations all over the world for free. “I sold the app, and since then, I don’t know…” He massaged his chin with a frown. “Never put my hand on a venture that was a bad idea. I know a hit when I see one. And you.” He turned to Rhyland. “You have a good idea right there. I’m starting to warm up to you.”
Rhyland looked pensive, deep in thought. He’d been like this since we boarded for Texas, and I wondered if there was something on his mind that didn’t include our little weekend charade. Maybe something to do with his parents, whom he refused to speak to.
The last stop in our grand Marshall estate tour was off the main pathway leading to their door, beyond the ranch itself. It was an old, round well made of heavy black stones. With a galvanized metal jug hanging on a frame under its wooden roof,it looked like something out of a Grimm Brothers tale, and I pressed Gravity hard to my chest, afraid she’d wiggle off and launch herself into it.
“And this is the family wishing well.” Bruce stopped to pat the hot stones with a proud smirk. “I ain’t superstitious or anything, but this wishing well has made quite the name for itself over the past couple centuries. We stopped utilizing it for water in around 1900. My great-great-grandfather fell ill during that time, and his wife, Bertha—she was a nurse—thought he’d never get out of it. The doctors gave him a few days. Folk traveled from all over to say goodbye to the old man. One night, she sat on the edge of the wishing well, dropped a coin in, and prayed he’d get better. The next morning, he woke up feelin’ like a trillion bucks!” Bruce’s eyes gleamed with juvenile enthusiasm. “Since then, people from all over Texas come here to drop a coin and make a wish. This lil baby has helped countless people.” He smacked the stones again. “Get married, get pregnant, overcome illnesses, gather the courage to do something new. You should try it sometime.”
“Charming, but people under the age of fifty don’t carry cash on them, let alone petty cash,” Rhyland said brutally.
I elbowed him. What was wrong with him? I knew there was some tension between him and Bruce, but the latter was finally opening up.
“Don’t be a cynic,” Bruce said. “Where there is no belief, there is no growth. Doesn’t matter who your god is. Could be justice, hope, or the Big Daddy in the sky. You have to believe in something, or you have nothing to live for.”
When we got back to the main house, Jolene suggested Gravity help her make cornbread. Rhyland and I retired to our room, adjacent to Gravity’s bedroom. For all their conservativeness, Jolene and Bruce had allotted us one bed even though we weren’t yet married.
When Rhyland unzipped his suitcase on the bed, I went in for the kill.
“What’s up with you?” I hopped onto the mattress. “You’ve been surly.”
“Nothing,” he muttered, tugging out expensive polo shirts and designer briefs.
I’d never seen Rhyland in a bad mood. In fact, up until now, I wasn’t entirely sure he was capable of one.
“If I wanted a bullshitter, I’d have stayed with Tuckwad.” I frowned. “You’re obviously upset. Is it about Bruce? Is it abou—”
“Yesterday, I mortgaged my apartment.” He flicked his empty suitcase shut, tossing it to the floor.
My jaw loosened with shock, and I shot to my feet, placing my palm on his cheek. He looked the other way sharply, hissing with humiliation as the pink flush on his neck crawled up to his face.
“I’ve been such a fucking idiot for years. Recklessly spending all my money. Thinking I could live like my much richer friends. Every bad idea I ever stumbled into, I took. I got a fucking six-million-dollar penthouse basically for free…”
Holy shit, his place is worth six million?
“And I managed to lose it.”
Guilt gnawed at me for charging him an insane amount of money for our fake relationship.
“You haven’t lost the apartment,” I whispered. “Mortgaging means nothing. I mean, I heard some people do it for better rates or whatever!” I was really talking out of my ass now, since I’d never owned anything more expensive than a Dyson hair dryer and had no idea how those things worked. “And look.” I licked my lips. “Forget about my fee. I’ll pick up more shifts at the Alchemist…”