What must it be like when every penny doesn’t need to count?

With no A/C in Dane’s truck, the window is down and whipping through my hair. Stealing a moment before the storm of work strikes, I extend my arm, waving my hand through the air.

Dane is good with silence, which is a nice reprieve from Amanda’s need to always chat. I think I’m somewhere between the two. It’s ironic since they briefly dated the summer before freshman year, which is how we met. Somehow, they knew they were better off as friends, and we’ve managed to maintain the platonic relationships over the years.

None of us can claim great luck in dating, so it helps to have others you trust who you can gripe about it to. The one girlfriend of his I avoid talking about if I have a choice, is Mia. Unfortunately, she keeps coming back into his life just when we think she’s gone for good.

I hate seeing him get used, which is the type of woman he’s generally attracted to, so sometimes I can’t keep my mouth shut. “When you say caught up, you mean you were with Mia again?”

If the shrug didn’t give me the answer, his laughter does. I punch his arm, annoyed with how weak he is when it comes to her. “I couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Nope,” I say, throwing my hand up. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life, especially when it comes to you and Mia.”

“Wish you guys got along.”

The sudden serious tone to his voice has me returning my gaze. “You may have forgiven her for cheating on you, but I haven’t. Not sorry to break it to you, but we aren’t going to be best friends.”

“Why not?” He turns onto a property, and the gates begin to open.

I lean forward and stare at the long driveway before us with the mansion at the top of the hill sitting like the cherry on top.

It’s not that I’m envious of these estates, but I also can’t help but wonder what it must be like living here. It’s acreage of trees as far as the eyes can see, manicured lawns, swimming pools, and long winding driveways that end at the base of stunning homes so big that several families could inhabit them without running into each other.

This one is particularly pretty with white siding and forest-green shutters. I can’t wait to see the inside.

“You’re drooling.” Dane shifts into park behind a row of event trucks.

Still staring at the structure through the windshield, I ask, “What do you think they do for a living to afford this place?”

He rests his arms over the steering wheel and follows my gaze. “Nothing.” His harsh answer takes me by surprise. “This house has been handed down.” Rubbing his fingers together, he adds, “The Westcotts are old money.” He hops out. “Come on. Two minutes to spare.”

Anchoring my shoulder against the door since it usually sticks, I wedge it open and get out. Gravel crunches under my shoes as I weave through the trucks and follow a sidewalk to the back of the house that leads to the back door. As soon as I step into the kitchen, I’m hit with Larry’s judgmental gaze over the top of his red-framed reading glasses.