Page 57 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

Mont

“What would you say if I said I had the most exciting news? Blow your socks off kind of news? Blow your socks clean across the country news? Blow your—”

“Whoa, Dad.” I wave my fork at him, and a piece of bacon falls off and lands on my plate.

We’re at Dad’s favorite diner. It’s not exactly a greasy spoon, and it’s not gourmet either. I find it to be a slightly soulless mix of both, but equally dissatisfying on both ends. It’s a family favorite spot, and we’ve been coming here for years. Along with the five-star haunts, my parents love this place. A friend of my dad used to own it, but he sold it to the new owners years ago, and since then, I think it’s changed hands half a dozen times. I’m not sure why we still come. I guess Dad likes the old and familiar, even if the food is quite subpar, the décor and furnishings are dated, and the place is usually packed full of kidswhose favorite breakfast pastime is to scream until their lungs pop onto the outside of their body.

“Anyway, what is it? Or are you going to leave me in suspense for the next few weeks and not tell me?” I ask. Dad ambushed me this morning with an absurdly early phone call. He didn’t ask if I wanted to go for breakfast. No, he quite literally commanded it.

Thank goodness Evilla hadn’t spent the night. For the past two weeks, we’ve been doing that on weekends—Friday nights and Saturday nights mostly. Last night, she had a wicked headache and wanted to go home early. I’d picked her up, so I grudgingly drove her home. The grudging part was because I wanted to take her to the hospital since the pain was so bad that she was feeling ill from it, but she told me all she needed was a few ibuprofen, some silence, and her bed. I understand why she didn’t want to spend the night, and I wasn’t offended. It’s tough having someone else see you when you’re at your worst, and sometimes all you want when you feel super crappy is your own familiar space.

She already texted me this morning and said she was feeling better. But I didn’t sleep well last night because I was so worried about her.

We haven’t told our parents that we’re dating yet. A few of my friends know, and Genevieve knows on her end, but that’s it. We’re not keeping secrets, but telling the family is a big next step that comes with expectations, questions, and endless pestering. We’d like to make it to the one-month mark before our time isn’t really ours anymore.

“I’ve found it. The perfect castle.”

Now he has my attention. I’m glad not to have to eat the gloopy eggs and the undercooked bacon. I gladly set my fork down for good. “Where?”

It’s been my mom’s dream to own a castle. That sounds rather posh, and my parents are all about being as normal as possible,not taking too much for themselves, not using wild amounts of resources, helping out wherever they can, and putting good back into the world. At the same time, my mom is also a hopeless romantic. She’s obsessed with Scottish romance, and it’s been her thing that if she and my dad ever bought a vacation property, it would be an old castle. She wasn’t dead set on Scotland, but I’m not sure anywhere else would have satisfied.

“Scotland,” my dad answers.

“No. You didn’t.”

“I did. It’s the right price, but that means it needs a lot of work.”

My dad could afford to buy something that doesn’t need a lot of work, but I think that’s the charm of finding a property. I could afford to buy something that’s been entirely fixed up and already renovated, but I don’t like doing that. I like the process. I like putting my personal touches on them. It’s not just about making money on top of money, even though the properties I’ve developed are investments for the most part. It’s the pleasure I get in taking something historical and old, something that has seen better days, and restoring it back to its former glory with an entirely new purpose and life.

“I was hoping you’d come with me. We could get a crew out there and be done with everything in six months.”

“Six months?” As far as my dad knows, I’m single. There’s no one on the other side waiting for me here. No one I might hurt by leaving for a huge chunk of time. “Dad. You know I have businesses to run.” That’s more than a legit excuse because it’s the truth. “I can’t just bail on them and leave.”

“I thought if you gave some notice, you’d be able to work it into your schedule. I could make the purchase now. You know there’s a planning period, meeting with architects, finding a crew, getting permits—the whole deal. It would be months before we’d even need to be out there.” Dad doesn’t have to do his puppydog eyes. I’m his son, and this is for my mom. It’s special. It’s something they’ve waited their whole lives for, and he wants to involve me in the process so that it’s truly a family thing.

“Are you going to tell Mom about it? She’ll want to be there to make sure everything is perfect.”

“I’m going to tell her after I buy it,” Dad says.

“And if it’s not the right one?”

“Then it’ll be an investment. You can never go wrong fixing up something historical, either. Even if, in the end, we just turn it back over to the town as a museum or historical site, it’s worth saving. Those castles are centuries old.”

“Oh, good. People pooped in holes back then.”

Dad makes a noise in his throat. “I was hoping that if you had a few months, say three or four here, you’d be ready to leave by then. I know we’ve talked about doing this, and it was always just an abstract, but it’s real now. I wanted to tell you before I told your mother because it’s the first thing she’ll ask. That you come over with us.”

“We’d be over there for more than six months. Buildings like that could take years to restore.”

“I’m just talking about making it livable. Plus, we don’t have to be over there the whole time. You could do a few months there and come back here for a few months. We’re not selling our house here. This is still just a part-time property. Your mom doesn’t want to live in Europe full-time. Maybe we’d do something fun and keep half of it for us and turn half of it into a museum so it can be enjoyed by everyone year-round.”

The idea would sound perfectly awful to most people, but giving back has always given my parents so much genuine pleasure. They don’t do it the way some people do, to be seen and thought better of. Both my parents regularly volunteer at many different places. They give their time as well as their money.

Six months feels like an eternity. How would I explain that to Evilla? She’d feel like I was running out of here. Leaving her on her own.

“I don’t know, Dad. It might be more complicated for me with the businesses here. I’ve had my own share of making a few more purchases.”

“You have?”

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