"That only works on people who care about social media in the first place. I'm thinking that's not my dad. And besides, it would feel really icky."
"You can get over icky," she says.
"Noted. Next idea?"
"You could just kill him, but since it's not the kind of deed where you get the whole house if he dies, then it wouldn't do you any good unless you're in his will. And you're probably not." She sips her latte. "Probably wouldn't work, then."
"I'll pass on the murder plot," I say dryly. "Another suggestion?"
"Pay him."
"Yeah, right."
"I'm serious," she says. "He's just interested in the equity. So buy his interest for what he would make when the court forces the sale."
"I know what you meant," I say. "But where am I supposed to get that kind of money? I doubt Marjorie has a client who'll pay a cool million. And honestly, I wouldn't do it even if she did. Not now."
Joy's brows lift. "Interesting. And relevant. Because I was going to suggest you ask Lyle for the money."
I've just taken a sip of coffee, and when I gasp it goes down the wrong way, making me cough and choke as I try to suck in a coffee-free breath of air.
"You okay?"
"Lyle?" I say. "You want me to ask Lyle for a million dollars?"
"Well, sure. I mean, he pretty much paid off your loan, so he probably already feels invested in the house. And we know he likes you."
She frowns. "He does like you, right? Because I have to admit, I'm still a little confused. Are things between you real-serious or pretend-serious? Because honestly, I'm not sure if I should apologize for getting you into this in the first place, or say you're welcome."
It's like she's flipped a switch, and all sorts of gooey thoughts and feelings fill me up. "Things are great," I say, unable to fight my brilliant smile. "And thank you," I add, then wink.
"O.M.G., she squeals. "That's so fab. I'm really happy for you. See? I bet he'd totally give you a million to save the house."
"Joy, that's--"
"Perfect. I know. I'm a genius"
"No," I say. "Not even close to perfect. I can't ask him for a million dollars. There's no way I could earn that much working for him--and don't you dare say sex. And I couldn't pay off a loan. Not in this lifetime, anyway."
"But he'd probably do it for you, anyway."
"Even assuming he has a million lying around, I can't ask him for it. I'd be putting him in a horrible spot. And what if things don't work out between us?" I ask, the thought of losing him making me vaguely queasy. "It would be beyond uncomfortable."
"Maybe, but at least you'd have the house."
"At that price? I'd rather just have my memories."
The words come without thinking, but as soon as they're out of my mouth, I know they're true. I love my house, and I'm still going to call the lawyer and I'm still going to fight this stupid partition action. But if it gets down to the wire, I'm not going to destroy myself or a relationship trying to save it.
Because at the end of the day, I'll still have my memories.
And maybe, if things keep on the way I hope they will, I'll have Lyle, too.
22
"We can knock down this wall and open the kitchen up to the dining and living areas, don't you think?" Greg asks.
I snap back to attention, frustrated that my mind has once again wandered to my house. But as soon as I arrived, I'd asked Anderson to explain exactly how partitions work, and based on what he told me, I'm even more sure I'm screwed.