Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(3)

“I-am here.” Molly comes around the corner, her smile as charming as her husband’s. “What are y-ou and my husband doing today?” she asks. They both have difficulties with certain words because of the anatomical differences in their mouth area due to their bonus chromosome, but I understand them perfectly.

“Just going to show some houses.” I follow the two of them into the kitchen and take a seat at the island. “Do you want to come with us?”

“No,” she answers simply. “My mom is coming over w-ith groceries. She goin-g to help me cook.”

“That’s fun.” I grin when her nose scrunches. “You don’t think so?”

“I… don’t like cooking.”

“But you like eat-ing,” Harris says, smiling at her.

“So do you.”

“I’m a growing boy.” He holds his round belly, and she and I both laugh along with him, then he looks at the clock. “We need t-o leave.”

“You’re right.” I look at Molly. “If you want to escape, call my cell, and we’ll come over and rescue you from cooking,” I tell her, and she smiles.

“Thank you.” She gives me a hug when I stand, then kisses and hugs her husband.

When we get out to my car, Harris gets into the passenger seat, and like he always does, he changes my music to his. “Are you trying to put me to sleep?” I whine playfully.

“Frank is classic.”

“Classically boring.” I sigh dramatically, enjoying his laughter. “Are you ready to sell some houses today?” I put my phone away after confirming which house our clients will be meeting with us first today.

“Yes, Molly wan-ts to go on vacation.”

“Oh yeah, where does she want to go?”

“The Bahamas.”

“Nice.” I turn to smile at him. “It’s beautiful there.”

“I… never went there before.”

“Well, let’s change that.” I press down on the gas, and he hoots, making me laugh.

“Shoot.” He whistles as we pull up in front of the first house on our list today. “This is nice.”

“It is,” I agree, pulling up the listing information on my phone and reading over it. When I see there is no one living at the address, I get out, and Harris follows me to the front door. “All right, do you want to turn on the lights down here or upstairs?” I ask after using the code to let us inside.

“Down here,” he says, already walking down a long hallway.

I head upstairs and go through each room, double checking they’re as they should be while flipping on the lights. I get downstairs just in time to meet our clients, then with Harris’s help, we walk them through every room, take them out to admire the in-ground pool, and go over the cost associated with the neighborhood, which they don’t balk at. Personally, I would never pay over seven thousand dollars a month for the use of a golf course. Then again, I would never buy a ten thousand square foot home, regardless of how beautiful it is, unless I was planning on filling each room with a child. And ten kids would be eight kids too many for me.

By the time we finish showing them around, they ask us to put in an offer for twenty thousand over the asking price. A year ago, that would have surprised me. Now, it’s not even a little shocking. Homes are hard to come by, and buyers learn fairly quickly that if they love a house, they need to put in an offer, or it will be gone by morning.

Once I write it up, Harris and I take off to our next showing, and by the time the day comes to an end, we have three offers out to sellers, which means his trip to The Bahamas is even more possible than it was this morning. When I drop him off a few hours later, I can tell he’s exhausted, so I walk him to his door, say a quick hello to Molly and her mom, then take off.

Unlike Harris, I have no one to get home to, I just have work to keep me occupied until I call it a night. And even though I tell myself that I’m not lonely I know, deep down, that I am.





Chapter 2


April

I WALK INTO Frank & More and stop in front of the receptionist, trying not to get annoyed with the pretty blonde behind the shiny counter when she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. As I listen to her talk to someone who is obviously a guy she hooked up with a few nights ago and not a client, I fight the urge to reach over and hang up the call. If I weren’t here for a listing, I would do it. After what feels like minutes but is probably seconds, she tips her head back my way and covers the receiver, plastering a plastic smile on her face.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m here to meet with Frank,” I tell her, and she looks down at the top of the desk.

“April Mayson?”

“Yes.”

“He said you could go on back when you got here,” she tells me, pointing to a set of glass double doors at the side of the counter.

“Thanks.” My heels click as I walk across the white tile floor and push through into Frank’s office.

“April.” He stands to greet me as soon as I enter, giving me a slimy, sticky-sweet smile, and I return one of my own.

“Frank.” I take hold of his bicep and lean up on my heels to kiss his cheek.

“I was surprised to hear from you.” He takes a seat and leans back in his chair, linking his hands together before resting them over his stomach as he eyes my chest. “What can I do for you?”