Page 1 of Thanks for the Love
Chapter One
Welcome to Miami,bienvenidos. The lyrics of Will Smith’s hit song begin running through my mind along with the image of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air dancing on the white sands of South Beach. Who doesn’t love that song? Yes, it’s from the 90s, but its important message still rings true—take a vacation to Miami or in my case, pack up and move there.
My best friend (correction: former best friend) and I listened to it over and over again while planning girls’ trips and talking about our future hopes and dreams. Oh, the irony that I’m here right now.
I, Gabby Marshall, am officially a resident of the Magic City. I actually had no idea Miami had a nickname until a few days ago. Who knew?
As I drive over the MacArthur Causeway with the sparkling blue water below me, I think about how I ended up here. It hasn’t been an easy road, and it still makes me nauseated thinking about starting my life over. A new city, new friends, a new job—I know there will be difficult days, but I’m up for the challenge. I have to keep reminding myself that change is good and now I have a blank canvas in front of me, blah-blah-blah. And despite my reasons, it was super brave of me to walk away from everything I’ve ever known. This just proves even I can do hard things.
I pull straight into a parking spot directly in front of Fun in the Sun Realty and exhale loudly.
I made it.
Truth be told, I arrived extra early on purpose so I wouldn’t have to parallel park. This may sound ridiculous, but I’m absolutely terrified of parallel parking. I’m talking hyperventilating, sweating, panic-attack-inducing afraid.
Some people are afraid of small spaces or heights, but not me. Just the idea of trying to squeeze myself in between two other cars makes me want to turn in my driver’s license and never get behind the wheel again. As silly as it sounds, I’d rather jump out of a plane and float down to the office every day.
On a positive note, I’ll probably never be late. I consider it a win-win. I mean I could always park a few blocks away in the garage, but then I’d be a sweaty mess by the time I walked through the front door of the agency. I’m very familiar with the Florida humidity, having grown up in Orlando, and the climate in Miami isn’t much different, other than the breeze that comes off the ocean. My new office is two blocks from the beach, which was a huge selling point when I made the decision to pack up my life and get out of Orlando. The hardest part was leaving behind a thriving clientele and years of working for the same company, but I’m hoping my knowledge and experience follow me here and I have just as much success.
When I step inside Fun in the Sun Realty, I’m instantly reminded why I took this leap of faith. The laidback beach vibe of the agency is invigorating, and the sunshine streaming in through the wall-to-wall windows is exactly what I need to motivate me.
“Gabby, welcome,” Elizabeth calls from her office. She stands up from her chair and comes out to greet me with a hug. Her long blonde hair is full of loose waves, and she’s wearing a short white blazer over a pair of skintight black and white striped pants, and black stilettos. She’s also wearing a chunky black and white necklace which is almost as big as her neck. It looks like it might be choking her, but we all make sacrifices for fashion.
Elizabeth is the owner of Fun in the Sun, and we’re technically family. Well—sort of. She’s my sister-in-law’s sister, so I’m not sure what that makes us to each other. Is there such a thing as a sister once removed or something like that?
Regardless, I owe her a lot. When my life fell apart, my sister-in-law Nikki reached out to Elizabeth and asked her if she had any open positions at her real estate agency. From that moment, everything fell into place seamlessly. Not only did she offer me a position, she also informed me that one of her other agents was looking for roommates. I’m still not sure if she was hiring anyone. It’s very possible she took pity on me and gave me a job at her sister’s pleading.
Maybe I’ll ask her someday or maybe not. The reasons don’t matter now because I’m here.
Elizabeth is talking a mile a minute, and I’m trying to keep up in between zoning out. She leads me to a desk near the back of the office. There’s a new laptop and a tumbler withFun in the Sunprinted on it waiting for me.
Unfortunately, the desk isn’t next to a window. Being the new girl in town, I can’t exactly expect a red carpet leading to the best seat in the house. Even if the owner and I are sort of family, I still need to prove myself, and I intend to.
“The laptop is ready to go,” Elizabeth says. “Let me know if you have any questions, and I look forward to seeing you first thing tomorrow morning.”
Her phone buzzes on cue, and she rushes back to her office.
My head is still spinning, but in a good way. Tomorrow is my first official day, so I’m glad I have this time to become familiar with my surroundings and get the house keys from my new roommate.
I’m about to sit down at my desk when the front door flies open and Lila saunters in. She has her earbuds in, and she’s balancing a massive Louis Vuitton bag and a venti Starbucks cup.
“Enrique, love, of course I want to see you.”
She waves as soon as she sees me.
Lila reminds me of that girl in high school that everyone wanted to be friends with. She exudes confidence and class, and her style is on point. She’s wearing a long turquoise maxi dress and gold gladiator sandals that lace up her legs. Her black hair is pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and her makeup is so perfect she could teach a tutorial on YouTube. The interesting thing is that I’ve actually only met Lila once for about five minutes. When I came down here to meet with Elizabeth, I ran into her right before she was rushing out the door to catch a plane to the Bahamas. She sent me a rental contract, and we agreed to everything via email. I haven’t even seen her house in person, but the pictures she sent are amazing.
“Enrique, I promise,” she continues as she sets her stuff on a desk in front of one of the glass windows.
I have a feeling she’s trying to let poor Enrique down easily.
The house I’m moving in to actually belongs to her parents. Apparently, they were about to put it on the market and she stopped them. She told me the idea of selling her childhood home freaked her out, so she walked away from her beach front condo to move back into the house. It’s a sweet story, and she must be pretty sentimental to still be attached to it. My parents have lived in several different homes since I was a child, so I don’t have that kind of connection to where they currently live.
“Yes, we will catch up very soon,” she insists. “My new roommate is here, so I have to dash.”
She sighs as she ends the call and places her phone down on the desk.
“Welcome to the jungle, roomie. You’re going to love it here.”
