Page 38 of Negotiating Tactics

“And what’s going on with you, Miss Alex?” Aunt Clem asked.

I shifted again, feeling like a fidgety kid as I stretched my legs out and then crossed them at the ankle.

I’d salvaged the clothes I could from my apartment, and Aunt Clem had been kind enough to let me come over to wash. I could have taken them to the laundromat, but this was a good reason to visit, and right now, while I waited for my last load of clothes to get done, I was wearing my standard yoga pants, tank top, jacket combo.

“Believe it or not, despite the disaster that is my apartment, I have good news,” I said.

“I thought your place was repaired enough for you to live comfortably. You can go back to Dominic’s if it’s not,” Birdie said.

“My place is fine,” I said quickly.

Maybe too quickly, though Birdie and Aunt Clem didn’t seem to react.

Birdie probably hadn’t pushed because she’d gotten used to me turning things down, for which I was grateful.

Because there was no way, no how, I would tell her the real reason I was terrified of even driving by Dominic’s townhouse.

“But yeah, despite all that, I have good news,” I said.

“I love good news,” Aunt Clem said, her smile still bright.

“Well, me too. I got an agreement to purchase my building. The owner agreed on a reasonable amount for earnest money and says he’ll work with me on the full purchase price. He also said he liked what I planned to do with the place,” I said, more or less beaming when I stopped.

“Oh my God. That’s awesome, Alex!” Birdie said, leaning over to hug me.

Aunt Clem reached across the card table and patted my hand.

“That is good news, sweetheart,” she said.

“Yeah. I think I can do it too. I have ninety days to get the rest, and then?—”

“Alex, how much is it?” Birdie asked, looking at me with her head tilted in question.

“None of your business,” I responded before I stuck my tongue out.

“Answer,” Birdie said, ignoring me.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a penny or a million pennies. I’ll get the money myself,” I said.

“Alex, you know I’m always happy to help you,” Birdie said.

“And you do help me, just like I hope I help you. And I appreciate everything you do for me. But help and taking your money are two distinct categories. I can get the building myself. Knowing that you’re cheering me on is help enough,” I said.

Birdie didn’t argue, but I could practically see her holding back the urge to fuss.

I understood it too.

There wasn’t a thing that I wouldn’t give her if she needed it, and I knew that generosity was a two-way street and treasured that I had her unconditional support.

But still, I wanted to do this on my own.

Even more than that, I wouldn’t ever do anything to make Birdie think that something beyond her friendship mattered to me, especially money. Because there was no amount of money that was worth my friendship with her.

“So yeah, I think it’s going to happen,” I said, moving the conversation along to tread on more shaky ground. “And I had lunch with my dad to celebrate.”

I said the last on a rush of fast, bubbly words, and then waited for the response.

I kept my gaze on Birdie, who politely took a sip of coffee.

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