“That’s true.”
He looked genuinely hurt.
For the first time, I felt some guilt.
Maybe privacy had become secrecy.
Maybe I had withheld too much.
But then Vanessa said.
“So the rent really isn’t necessary for you.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She blinked.
“Then why did you agree to pay it?”
“Because you asked.”
That made the whole table quiet.
I continued eating.
The next morning, the house rules disappeared from my door.
I found the paper in the trash.
I took it out.
Folded it again.
Put it back in my pocket.
Not yet.
Closing happened Friday.
I signed nineteen times.
Wired four hundred sixty-five thousand dollars.
Received the keys.
Then stood on my own front porch.
Across the street, Vanessa’s SUV sat in the driveway.
I laughed.
Denise handed me a folder.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You moving today?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Need movers?”
“Already arranged.”
Of course.
