The Love We Missed Chapter 05

The Love We Missed Chapter 05

The second the shock wore off, I called her 

straight back. 

“Do you hear yourself?” I snapped. “The highest listing on our street is under a million. What 

makes you think our place is magically worth 1.2?” 

“Oh?” She gave a small, quiet laugh. 

“So I’m supposed to sell short just to help you and 

your girl play house? In your dreams.” 

“Claire, be realistic-” 

“Besides, what’s 1.2 to a senior director?” she said 

smoothly. “Call one of your golfing buddies. I’m 

sure they can help you shuffle things around.” 

I pinched my nose, holding back a curse. 

“Fine. Say we get 1.2. Pay off the 

six–hundred–thousand–dollar mortgage, and we’re 

left with six hundred. That’s three hundred grand 

each.” 

I tried to keep my voice reasonable. 

“What if I come up with the three hundred grand in cash to buy you out? You get your money, and I 

keep the house.” 

“No,” she said simply. “The whole point of selling is walking away clean. Banks don’t care about a divorce decree–if you miss a payment down the road, it’s my credit on the line. The house goes on 

the market, or nothing happens.” 

She hung up, cutting off my response. 

Fifteen days left. 

How was I supposed to sell a house in two 

weeks? 

If the thirty days ran out, the deal was dead. And 

with the condo already in the trust, Claire held all 

the cards. 

Fuck. 

I really had no idea what was going on in her head. 

I called the agent and told him to pull the listing. 

The open market was too slow. I needed a friendly buyer on paper, fast, just to clear the title and push. 

the divorce through. 

I spent the next two days working through my. 

phone book. 

Everyone gave me the same polite runaround. Bad 

timing, tight credit, wives watching their accounts. 

Nobody wanted to touch it. 

Three nights later, running out of time, I drove over 

to her new place and knocked. 

“Claire. We need to talk.” 

She didn’t invite me in. Instead, she grabbed her 

coat and walked me down to the corner diner. 

We took a booth, and I rubbed my face with both. 

hands, worn thin. 

“Ten days left on the waiting period,” I said, 

pushing a sheet of paper toward her. “Nobody’s 

paying 1.2. Let’s list it at eight hundred, and I’ll 

sign a note for the difference. I’ll pay you back. 

later.” 

Claire looked down at the paper, sipping her water. 

She didn’t touch it. 

“Did you forget someone?” she asked softly. 

I paused. “Who?” 

“That pretty girl of yours. Why don’t you just sell it 

to her?” 

My stomach dropped. “She… she can’t afford a 

house like that.” 

“Why not?” 

Claire reached into her bag, slid Vivian’s business. 

card across the table, and rested her finger on it. 

“From entry–level bookkeeping to finance manager in three years,” Claire murmured. “You’ve been 

quite the sponsor.” 

A knot tightened in my throat. “You had me 

checked out?” 

Claire looked back at me, her eyes completely 

calm. 

“We were married a long time. I just didn’t want 

you getting played.” 

She watched me for a second, then gave a faint 

shrug. 

“Can’t blame you, really. She’s young, pretty, got 

ambition. Any guy in your shoes would’ve done the 

exact same thing.” 

She took another sip from her mug. 

“With a manager title like that, she can easily get approved for a mortgage.” 

“She’s twenty–five 

,” I muttered, looking away. “She doesn’t even have 

savings for a down payment.” 

“Then give it to her.” 

Claire spun her water glass, watching the ice clink against the side before looking up. 

“What’s a couple hundred grand to you? Just sign 

the check.” 

I stared at the scarred laminate table, a headache. 

throbbing behind my eyes. 

The money wasn’t the issue. I’d already transferred 

more than that to Vivian over the past few years. 

The real issue was Vivian herself. 

She was picky. There was no way in hell she’d 

move into Claire’s old bedroom. 

I tossed back the cold coffee and walked out into 

the night.