"I'm not," I counter weakly.

"But you are. You're leaving no room for a personal life. Tell me, has Carlo been hounding you for money again?"

I let out a resigned sigh. "Yes." Carlo is nothing if not predictable. Like clockwork, every two weeks, he's scrounging for cash. I suspect he's living out of his car now, a battered old thing that's a far cry from the sleek model he lost to repossession. Despite having his license revoked, he still drives whenever he can scrape together some gas money. It's maddening, really. He's intelligent, which only adds to my frustration. How has he spiraled down to this point? What inner demons drive him to sabotage his own life? It's a mystery, one I doubt anyone can truly unravel."

He hung out with the wrong crowd in high school; no matter where he moves, he seeks the same friends. Dad’s siblings are known to have criminal records, and one cousin is in and out of prison.

“Be strong. You need to have a life. You can't do that if you keep tumbling down the rabbit hole after him," she advises with a firm, yet caring tone.”

If only it were that easy.

She waves her finger at me. “I know you’re thinking it’s your brother. Stop. He has promised to get straight before, and then he stole your paycheck. Enough is enough.”

“I know.” I wring my hands with helplessness. “You have that address for me? I’d better get on it.”

“Sure.” She reaches for a slip of paper on the coffee table and hands it to me.

“The address, alarm code, and his number if the alarm goes off.”

“Okay.” I stand and take the paper.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Show me by finding yourself a nice boyfriend.”

“We’ll see. Feel better. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I quietly let myself out, conscientiously locking the door behind me. She's become my personal support system, my one-woman cheer squad. I know I shouldn't rely on her to dictate my actions. After all, I'm no slouch in the brains department, boasting several degrees and holding down a respectable job with enviable benefits.

I text my brother that I don’t have any money before I start the car.

I know what I need to do, the problem is sticking to the plan and saying “No.”

I’ve diverted him for now. It’s better than making a promise to give him money when I get my next paycheck.

I look at the address and type it into my phone before I start my car. It’s a Mini Cooper, affectionately named Bess. I bought it when I got my first job after college. I worked in New York but became disenchanted when the boss started dating my competition for the next promotion. When a headhunter approached me, I did the math. I discovered I’m taking home more money in Maine than I did working in the expensive and overpriced city.

Delicate flakes of snow begin to fall. I turn on the wipers and follow the road to the location. The front door is nowhere near the driveway. The cleaning supplies are in my trunk. I hope the glass cleaner didn’t freeze. I park Bess and make the hike to the front door. My eyes widen in awe—this house is colossal. I guess with a bazillion dollars there’s no telling what can be accomplished in upgrades. The thoughts of the upscale features send my curiosity into overdrive.

I find the keypad, enter the code, and leave the door ajar as I return to Bess. I grab my caddy filled with cleaning supplies, close the door to my trunk, and enter the house again. I set the supplies down before closing the door. I like to change bedsheets first, then dust, before vacuuming and mopping floors. It’s efficient and makes sense.

It’s five. I have no clue when the grumpy player’s practice is over. He wanted his house cleaned today, and I’m here.

His house is massive and impeccably decorated, but it lacks warmth. The neutral tones scream no imagination. The furniture doesn’t look used. I plop my butt in a recliner in the living room to test it. Nope, there are no squeaks, and the springs feel perfectly solid on my rounded buttocks. The place feels almost uninhabited. What does one person do with twenty thousand square feet? I have no clue. But I bet I’ll get some stunning views that might give me an inkling as to how the other half lives.

CHAPTER3

Oliver

The air in the stadium is refreshing. It’s cooler on game nights. The practice was intense for me, standing on the sidelines next to the groom-to-be, Nathan.

“Hey, congrats. The big day is coming up.” I force a smile, proving that I’m not a diabolical person with ill intentions.

“Thanks, man. I’m glad you can make it to the wedding. Who are you bringing?”

Shit. I RSVP’d for two.I can’t show up to their wedding as a single person. That would be lame, and I’d look pathetic. I need to make Melanie jealous of who I’m bringing to the wedding. How could this important detail escape me?