Page 27 of Best Offer Wins

“So, about the house,” Jack finally breaks in.

The air goes completely still. My heartbeat roars in my head.

“We’ll certainly be rooting for you when we list it,” he continues. “But we had a quick chat inside, and we’re just not comfortable committing to anything… unorthodox.”

My stomach plummets. This can’t be happening. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Ian says something beside me, but he sounds muted somehow. Like I’m listening to him from underwater. Like I’m drowning.

“Completely understood,” I think I hear him say. “Ginny would’ve killed us for doing a deal without her anyway.”

Ginny.

The night slingshots back into focus. Her name is the corkscrew resting by the wine bottle, twisting into my gut. It is the one word I told Ian we absolutely could not say. The one word that could blow our cover.

Jack narrows his eyes. Terror slithers around my insides.

“Ginny Gunther?” he asks.

Ian’s shoulders slump as he realizes what he’s done.

“Jenny,” I say immediately. “He saidJenny. Our agent is Jenny.”

But Jack remains frozen, chiseled jawline set, dark eyes accusing.

“Ginny Gunther’s sister-in-law does yoga with me at Power + Grace,” he says to Curt. “Zelda Gunther. You’ve met her. She’s been to the house.”

Curt cocks his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow…”

“What aren’t you getting?” Jack snaps, the alarm intensifying his features. “One of my closest friends at yoga istheir agent’ssister-in-law. Zelda was in class with me the morning we decided to sell. She was one of the first people I told we were going to list.” Keeping his eyes on Curt, he jabs a finger toward me and Ian. “Zelda must’ve told Ginny who toldthem.”

Curt knits his brow.

“The exact same morning, Margo just happens to show up in front of our house.” Now Jack fixes his glare on me. “You weren’t really lost that day, were you?”

“I… I… what?”

“Oh my God.” His mouth goes slack, a look of recognition falling over his face. “You guys aren’t really adopting, are you?”

“I… what? Jack, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Margo, cut the shit,” he says. I hear Penny draw in a little gasp.

“Please…” My throat feels like it’s closing up. I can barely get the words out. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

Curt, now grasping what’s going on, rises to his feet. “Okay, party’s over.”

He waits for me and Ian to get up. When we do, he comes around to our side of the table and places a hand on the small of both our backs. He guides us inside, away from the tire swing, back through the flawless kitchen, through the living room where wewere supposed to celebrate our next Christmas, out onto the front porch, into the glow of the handsome brass lanterns.

Now, with Penny well out of earshot, he leans in so close that I can feel the humidity of his breath, smell the acid of the wine. “You two are fucking sick.” His voice is unnervingly calm. “If you ever come near my family again, I will call the fucking cops, do you understand?”

“I’m… Curt, I’m…” My body is on fire.

“Get the fuck off my property. Right fucking now.”

Then he slams the gorgeous, glossy-black front door.

9