Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“You’re a genius.”
“So you have said. Daily. For four months.”
“It’s been true. Daily. For four months.”
“It’s really looking like a house now,” I said, moving back into the main space. “I can see a family moving in here. Having kids. Hosting Thanksgiving dinner…”
“I can see us doing all those things too,” he agreed, moving in behind me and wrapping his arms around my stomach. “Eventually.”
We agreed on that whole ‘eventually’ part. Yes, we both wanted a house, we wanted the kids, we wanted the big, crazy, family parties. Eventually. Right now, we weren’t in a rush. We were enjoying living together, traveling together, making plans together. Everything else would come at the right time.
“So, did you decide on what to do with the lots?”
“We’re keeping them each at two acres,” I told him. “I mean, we do want to scale a business, but we also love this town. So all the investors agreed that preserving the small town feel was important to us. The town could use more housing and more people. But we don’t want it to become too built-up either.”
Technically, the Murphy brothers were the only investors right now. I had discussed with Cillian the potential to scale up, but he’d understandably asked to consider only working with them for the Shady Valley project.
I was, after all, their bookkeeper. And he claimed they had more than enough money to fund the project in the town.
He was open to me expanding eventually, but wanted to get to be the first investor.
And since I was still just a little insecure about the whole thing, I was happy to agree to keep working with people I trusted—and who had faith in me.
“I like that idea. Keep Shady Valley a small town. I mean, it’s been a ghost town for a long time now, but it’s nice to see people moving in and wanting to revamp downtown and shit. So, when you get to your house, you get two acres too?”
“Unless we decide to be selfish and keep four.”
“I mean, you could be a billionaire by then and want six wings and a driveway big enough for ten sports cars.”
That had been, in a very exaggerated way, the dream. And I still wanted to build wealth that could compound generation to generation. But it suddenly didn’t matter as much about labels or cars or how big the house was. Because I finally understood what people said about how it wasn’t the house; it was the people in it.
I guess when I’d been on my own for so long, it was hard to wrap my head around that concept. So I clung to things that seemed more attainable: designer brands, how many zeroes were in my bank account, what kind of marble I would put in my kitchen. Superficial things.
Now that I had not only Raff, but his entire extended family, I was more interested in fostering relationships and traditions than chasing trends or impressing strangers.
Being with the bikers and their families reminded me, in an odd way, of spending summers with my grandparents. The loud, chaotic, loving energy. The amazing meals. The laughing until everyone’s bellies hurt.
And, well, Slash let me plant a flower garden.
By “let me,” I mean he said, “Why the fuck would I give a shit about that?” when Raff asked if it would be okay if I opened one up. Sure, it was getting cool, but I had major plans come springtime.
There was so much to look forward to.
And also so much to enjoy in the present moment.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Raff asked as we made it up to the second floor and what would become the primary bedroom.
“Not to sound like an old lady, but my knees are not made for being on all fours on plywood floors.”
“Well then,” he said, grabbing me and turning me, dragging a shocked yelp out of my chest. “I hope you invested in good, solid walls,” he said before we slammed into one of them, mouths and hands already greedy.
Luckily, I had invested in good walls.
And a lot of sound-blocking insulation.
Raff - 3 years
“My friends!” Zayn greeted, arms thrown wide as he stood on the dock wearing an all-white outfit that billowed in a light breeze coming off the coast.
Daniyal stood a few feet back, his gaze scanning the shore for any threats.
“This is bizarre,” I told Lula as we made our way toward him. “Like my two worlds are clashing.”
Because, for the most part, while some of us did spend time in Golden Glades, the Golden Glades crew never spent time in Shady Valley.
But this event was sort of bringing the two worlds together, I guess.
And by ‘event,’ I meant our wedding.
Which was not technically taking place on the yacht, but our honeymoon—at least in part—was. We were having our wedding in California, then some of us were hopping on the yacht to travel all the way to Florida. Which would be, roughly, a four-week trip. On the other end, Lula and I planned to mix a little business with pleasure.