Page 8 of Hate To Love You

Ugh, why did he ever make that promise? Why does he think he can come back now and make good on it when it’s clearly never going to be made good on again? It’s beyond the point of making good.

Also, what choice do I have? None. I have no choice. Zero. This is bigger than me. It’s bigger than both of us. It’s not just for my dad’s company or all his employees. I have to admit the idea of our dads finally working it out and going back to being best friends is somewhat appealing to my soft, squishy side that seems to dominate my entire life. Whatever. It’s okay to feel that way about the parent who raised me. The one who got me through everything, including my awkward teenage years, first bras, sex talks, tampons, barfy nights, mall visits, learning how to drive, and everything else in my life.

I will never let the soft, squishy part of me dominate in any area where Apollo is concerned. For him, he only gets stick-in-the-bum me.

“Whatever. If we’re doing this, let’s just get it done and over with. The thought is so nauseating that I might barf all over whoever has the misfortune of marrying us.” That doesn’t come out quite as mean as I want it to. I don’t have very much practice at being a jerk. I can probably learn something from Apollo in that area.

He winks at me. “In that case, I’ll be sure to bring a bucket.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know that too. Probably the king of them, in your mind.”

“No. Not the king. The god.”

“The god,” he agrees too easily. “Oh, and one other thing, Patience. One tiny detail I left out that I think you should know. You’ll be living with me. I built the most amazing, incredible, unique house, and I know you’re going to love it.”

No. Just straight up all the no’s. He didn’t. He did not build our ultimate fort. The fairy style, retro, best ever, childhood wishful-thinking house. He. Did. Not.

He reads my mind. “I did.” A nod. And that stupid, sexy grin that makes my heart pulse. In revulsion, obviously. “I live in a mushroom house.”

CHAPTER 3

Apollo

I really do live in a mushroom house. That wasn’t just fancy talk or me waxing metaphorical. When the money started rolling in, and my investments paid off big time, I did the wise thing and invested again. And when that paid off, I invested again. The cycle went on and on. Blah, blah, blah. When I finally had more money than I knew what to do with—well, I guess I haven’t reached that point yet because I’ve always found something to do with it—but when I had more than enough money, I paid an architect to make my childhood dream house come true.

Mine and Patience’s dream house.

It’s in the middle of my own private forest just outside Seattle. Why Seattle? Because the weather is good. It never gets too hot or too cold. It has a good forest, and the mountains in the background are a huge plus. I’m an hour away from the city, which means I’m nicely isolated and hard to find since the woods hide me fairly well, but also close enough that I can easily drive to the city whenever I want.

It’s a great piece of land, and owning land is important. One day, I’d like to make the place completely self-sustaining, but it’s a work in progress. I have a garden right now, and most of the house is green. I also collect rainwater, and I have fruit trees and berry bushes. Mostly, I like my privacy. I like the wildlife and the quiet. And mostly…mostly, I like that I built this place with the goal in mind that I would gift it to Patience one day because, really, this was her dream since we were old enough to start thinking of dream houses.

She always loved gardening. Even as a kid, she could make anything grow.

I’ve never seen anyone adore camping as much as she did. She loves the land, the wilderness, the sky, the earth, and all things living.

And right now, I can tell that no matter how much she’s pretending to hate this place, scowling like her face has been crazy glued together in all the wrong spots, I know she’s one hundred percent head over heels in love with my mushroom. House. Err…the mushroom house.

“No!” Her scowl darkens like she’s about to rain down all sorts of shit on my parade. “You can’t live in a mushroom house. I forbid it!” She kicks her suitcase for good measure. It’s a hard shell, and it makes a weird noise when her fancy ankle boot connects with it. Thwomp.

Despite herself, her eyes flick up and down. When I said mushroom, it’s a real mushroom. Red roof, white spots, white curved body, arched wooden doors, and curved wood shutters with hearts carved into them. And an adorable stone chimney that is just for décor purposes. I went all out, going for the fairy tale picture book awesomeness that we dreamed of as kids.

“I already do, though.”

She doesn’t appreciate me pointing that out. Her nostrils flare, and her green eyes get insanely green. Like gem-tone green. The kind of burning bright green that could incinerate a person like a lightning strike. If I should have been called Poseidon, she should have been called Zeus.

“You took my idea. You stole it!”

“You said you always wanted to live in a mushroom house in the forest. It was your dream. We used to talk about it endlessly. You wrote so many stories about it, and you drew it all the time.”

“Yeah.” Another wicked flash in her eyes. I’m going to get charred on the spot soon. I know those lightning bolts of Zeus caused some real problems, although I haven’t read up on my Greek mythology like you’d think I would have, especially given my name. “It belonged to me! My idea. My dream. Not yours. You took it. You…you…you god of unoriginal thinking. You thief. God of stealing. God of asshole assness.”

“Why don’t we go in?” I suggest kindly.

She goes as red as the roof, and that beast is cherry hued. “Why don’t we not? You can’t do this. You just can’t. This can’t exist.” She shakes her fist at the house.

“It’s real.” I motion to the house, and I must be giving her an odd look because her lips purse and her whole face twitch. “Designed by a legit architect who specializes in custom builds like this. It went through all the correct permit processes and due diligence. No one had a problem with a giant mushroom being built out here in the middle of the forest. The construction crews did a great job. It’s all especially green as well. I didn’t think it would make a whole lot of sense to design something that looked like part of the earth and every single childhood dream come true and make it not very self-sustaining. That wouldn’t be conscionable.”

---