Page 162 of Ten Day Affair

I smooth my hair again with both hands, checking my reflection in the dresser mirror. There's a small mark on my collarbone that I cover with the tank top's fabric.

Breathe. Professional smile. You can do this.

The knocking comes again, more insistent.

"One second!"

I hurry through the living room, stepping over Cole's discarded jeans and kicking his shoes under the couch. The pizza boxes from last night sit on the coffee table next to two empty wine glasses.

I tug open the front door and paste on my brightest professional smile. "Janet! I overslept."

She stands on my porch in a crisp navy blazer, tablet in hand, looking like she stepped out of a real estate magazine. Her eyes scan past me into the living room.

"Good morning, Dr. Taylor. I hope I didn't disturb you."

Heat crawls up my neck. "Not at all. I'm a little out of sorts catching up on downtime, please pardon the mess."

Janet glances at her watch. "I'm a few minutes early. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd take a chance."

"No, it's perfect timing." I step aside to let her in, praying she doesn't notice the wine glasses or the suspicious lack of couch cushions. "I had planned to tidy up this morning, but I guess I needed more sleep than I realized."

She sets her tablet on the counter and pulls out a thick folder. "Would you prefer to reschedule the walk-through?We could always come back when you've had time to prepare the space."

"That might be better. I'm so sorry, I hope that works."

"Though since I'm here, we could at least handle the paperwork and discuss pricing strategy." She gestures toward the kitchen bar.

"That works."

"The walk-through is really just for my notes anyway. And I can always have my photographer come back once you leave. You said Monday, right?"

I force another smile. "That would be perfect. I'll make sure to have it spotless for you."

The faster we do this, the faster she leaves.

We settle at the kitchen bar, and she spreads documents across the cold surface. The listing agreement, market analysis, and staging recommendations.

We talk about price and showing arrangements. She already knows this neighborhood doesn't allow signs. There is very little information she needs from me.

My signature line waits at the bottom of each page like a finish line. This is it. No going back.

The hardwood creaks somewhere down the hallway, and I freeze mid-signature. Janet doesn't seem to notice, pointing to a clause about commission splits.

"Standard six percent, split between buyer and seller agents. Given the market right now, I expect multiple offers within the first week."

Another creak, softer this time. Cole, please just stay put.

I sign my name with a flourish, trying to look confident instead of terrified. "How quickly could we close?"

"Cash offers can close quickly. These houses tend to get those types of buyers. Financed buyers typically need thirty to forty-five days." She flips to the next page.

"Great."

"You mentioned you're relocating to Atlanta permanently?"

"Yes. New job, fresh start." I glance toward the hallway as she talks about comparable sales and staging tips.

"The view is spectacular." She gestures toward the sliding door where Cole and I stood arguing yesterday. "Ocean-facing properties always move faster than bay-side."