Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“That’s just it,” Miller says. “While I see your point, and I commend you for speaking up, I also think you’re not exploring all your options.”
“What other options do I have?”
“Student loans?” Brady asks.
“From what I read, because I’m still under twenty-four, I’m considered dependent on my parents, so they base the interest rate off my parents’ income.”
Brady whistles. “Goodbye, trust fund, in interest repayments alone.”
“Basically.”
“Levi,” Miller says, and his tone makes it sound like he’s about to say something obvious. “You know more people with money other than your parents. Isn’t that why you went to the most expensive school in Chicago? To network with other rich people?”
“Are you suggesting I go ask my high school friends’ parents for a loan?”
Miller’s mouth opens and then closes, and he shakes away whatever thought is running through his head. “Wow. Okay. I guess I’m going to need to spell it out for you. I would be willing to loan you—”
“Nope. That’s basically what I’d be doing with Peyton anyway because you give him money, he gives me money—”
“See, but there’s the difference. If I loan you the money, it will be a loan. Not a gift. We can draw up a contract, say interest-free repayments for the first two years, or even no repayments until you graduate or you leave school, and then when your trust comes in, if you pay it all off in one swoop, there’ll be no exit fees or anything. This won’t be a deal between you and Peyton, but you and me. If you break up with Peyton, the terms stay the same.”
It’s too good to be true. Too easy.
“I know you’re used to strings being attached to nice deeds,” Miller adds. “You were raised that way. And while I can say that Peyton would never hurt you or try to control you the way your father has—and we’ve seen him do it firsthand when you were growing up—it’s understandable that you won’t want to put yourself in the same position with someone else. Which is why the only strings I have is you have to pay me back. And if your dad somehow screws you over and your trust fund falls through? I really hope your art is good enough to sell, or you might be making coffee for the rest of your life so I can get my money.”
I’m still hesitant. “It feels wrong. I claim I want to make it on my own but then need to rely on others to do it. I hate double standards.”
“If this offer was coming from a bank, would you be as hesitant?”
“Well, no, but that’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. I’m not having sex with anyone from the bank. Or their sons.”
Brady cuts in. “Wait, do bank loans work like that? Know of any bankers who are hot Daddy types?”
Miller shudders. “Something I didn’t need to know about my child.”
“He has a point, though,” I say. “Banks don’t work on favors. It’s a business.”
“You could think of it as an investment in your art. Ooh, what if I commission a piece? Where’s that broken heart thingy Peyton showed us on his phone? I want to buy that.”
I glance at Brady. “He’s not going to let this go, is he?”
“Nope. And if I had to bet, I’d say if you flat out refused, an anonymous donation to your bank account would be the next step.”
“Shh,” Miller says. “Don’t give away all my secrets.” Then his brown eyes that are like Brady’s meet mine, and he turns serious. “Let me do this for you.”
“I will need a contract,” I say. “And I want to pay interest.”
“How about there’s no interest until you turn twenty-five, and if you choose not to use your trust fund to pay me back, we can have a low-rate interest tacked onto it.”
“That easy?”
“That easy.”
I glance between him and Brady, who’s nodding encouragingly. “Don’t you have to, you know, talk to your husband about it first? I don’t think I’m his favorite person.”
“What did I tell you before? He pays for everything. I have a nice chunk of cash hidden away for, you know, if he breaks the law and we need to flee and live in the Caymans for the rest of our lives.”
“It’s scary that I don’t think you’re joking,” Brady tells his pop.
“Your dad’s the joker. I’m the smart one.”
That pang of jealousy over their close-knit bond hits me like it usually does, and now that I’ve acknowledged my fear—irrational as it may be—the guilt over bringing Peyton down with my mood is what hits the most. I tore down his generosity and compared it to what my father would do.
Dad has the money, so he makes the rules. And while I still don’t want to put that uncertainty and pressure on Peyton’s and my relationship, borrowing money from his parents, with a contract in place, takes away all that unnecessary anxiety that has been growing.