Anyone that thinks that an infinite amount of money solves all your problems when it comes to buying a home, is dead wrong. Granted, I don't exactly have an infinite amount of money, but definitely more than the average person. Which is why I'm trying to say this in the most delicate way possible while acknowledging that I am in a privileged position.
Buying a house, sucks.
"Erik..." Rosie begins her sentence, both of us knowing that she doesn't need to finish it for me to know what she means. We're parked in front of what most would consider a mansion: 4 car garage, pool house, and located in a gated community. One difference from Canada and the US? Everyone lives in a gated community.
"I know, I know." I say, waving her off because I already can imagine the protests that will fly off her tongue. It's too big. Too expensive. Too much. What are we gonna do with all that space? Well I, have a few very...productive ideas. (i.e. I mean make love in every room in the house - except the kids' rooms because that would just be weird).
No, you didn't enter some weird time lapse, we don't have kids...yet. But within the next few years we definitely will. And I would much rather move into a place that can account for our future plans than have to pack up and move again when she gets pregnant. When I, get her pregnant.
Fuck, I'm horny.
"But it's in a really good school district and they just did a price reduction; so, it's basically a steal." I tell her, trying to reason with the bargainer in my girlfriend. I.E. the side of her that wants us to move into some crappy bachelor in the east-end of town, where people still hang shoes over the telephone wires.
Thankfully, we're getting out of the car so I can't see the look she's giving me; but I don't exactly need to, to know she's not impressed. It's no secret that Rosie and I have very different budgets. But her's is factoring in her lack of current income and only based off of the entry-level job she'll be getting with the Portland Pirates once she graduates. Which - even though they're a professional sports organization, isn't exactly a lot.
My budget on the other hand, factors in that I make close to seven million dollars a year...and that's just from my hockey career and not any of the income properties or investments that I have. Not like I'm trying to brag, I'm just making a statement. And as the future provider for our family, I don't see why it's a big deal for my income to be the one for us to think about when we're looking for a house.
Also, like I said before, moving is a bitch and definitely not something we wanna be worrying about in a few years when we have kids and dogs and a shit-ton of other things to worry about. See? I'm thinking ahead. I also want a master bedroom that we can have sound proofed, which is also, thinking ahead.
"Erik." Now, in the sun-kissed lighting of the afternoon, I can see the look of slight irritation on my girlfriend. She still looks beautiful as fuck; which almost makes me forget about the house and press her up against the truck.
Instead, I just bite my lip and hold out my hand, waiting for hers. "Come on, it's just a viewing. We don't have to commit to anything, today." I assure her, entwining our fingers together when she puts her hand with mine. Her hands are a little cold from the car and I make it my mission to warm her up. If we weren't in the suburbs with a real estate agent waving at us from the front door, I would have a whole different way of doing that.
"Erik, so nice to see you again." Steve tells me, shaking the hand that isn't attached to my girl. He's in his forties and looks like the type of dude that will try and sell you the most expensive thing on the block. But I also don't know too many other people in Portland; plus, Quentin and Makena used him when they bought their current place and it's not infested with roaches, so I'll take him for now.
"And this must be your wife." He says, reaching out to shake Rosie's hand - which is most definitely attached to mine. She temporarily lets go to shake his hairy fist and also give him a look, because she's not my wife. Not yet, anyway.
Her eyes flicker over to me, like she's waiting for me to correct him but I don't really want to. Which makes me sound like a kid not wanting to brush their teeth in the morning or having a temper tantrum; but sue me, I don't really care what this dude thinks. And we'll be married eventually, so, why bother?
"We're not married." Rosie tells him, killing my fantasy of what it would be like when we actually are married and living our happily ever-after. And not shacked up with my linemate turned roommate who shits with the door open.
Sex. A lot of sex. Morning sex and night sex and sex before bed. Huh. Maybe being married won't be so different from our current setup - minus the hairy ass of Kayden Williams, occasionally making an appearance in our bedroom.
"Not yet." I add, biting back a laugh when Rosie's cheeks turn a bright shade of red. You would think I just said I want to take her against the washing machine of this place; and need to test it for, scientific reasons.
Steve looks between us, giving a brief nod and smile before entering the combination in that black lockbox thing hanging from the door. When he looks away, Rosie shoots me a look, but I just return her stare. And by return her stare, I mean say what? with my eyes.
My hand grazes the lower back of Rosie as we make our way through the front door. The foyer - as I'm told by my girlfriend who's obsessed with HGTV, The Real Housewives of whatever city they're holding captive, and Love Island, is about as grand as possible. Everything is glass and modern and exactly what I'm looking for.
Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely no interior designer, but I like new stuff. Especially after having lived in a hodgepodge of different hotels for most of my twenties, I just want something that's brand new. A blank canvas that we can paint ourselves, preferably naked. Preferably with her on top of me and my hand-
"So this is a six bedroom, seven bath, new build." Steve explains, interrupting the current fantasy I was having of my girlfriend in the shower with me. Actually, let's be real. I'm a basic bitch. I was just thinking about making love to her in missionary in the bedroom. But sue me, I like the basics. The basics work. The basics give us both orgasms.
But I do like to help with her getting to hers. Very much so.
"Just under 6000 square feet with two offices, a home gym, and a chef's kitchen." He continues, rambling and pointing at things as we make our way through the house. We finally come to a stop in the kitchen where Rosie stares intensely at the double refrigerator; possibly while she contemplates my murder.
"Do you mind giving us a minute?" I ask Steve, obviously noticing the way my girl's freaking out and wanting to calm her down with my mouth. I mean, calm her down. He nods, giving us a quick once over before hustling out of the kitchen.
"I know it's a bit bigger than we wanted..." I begin, running my hands down her arm in an effort to calm her down. She seems like she's freaking out, which I would know what looks like considering that we're with each other pretty much 24/7. Minus when I'm on the road or she's mad at me.
Which considering how the start of our relationship went, is surprisingly rare. I think the only time we've really had a fight was when I watched the next season of House Hunters International without her. But I just misunderstood when she said she didn't want to watch it. And by misunderstood, I mean took her seriously in what she had said.
I felt like shit when she found out I had watched it and she told me she had changed her mind and wanted to watch it with me, after all. I don't know what it is but when you're in a relationship it's like you're literally connected at the hip, at least, we are. She's my best friend and I can't wait to marry her.
"We can't afford this, Erik." She tells me, turning to face me and give me a look of worry. I hate stressing her out; it literally kills me. I mean, I can actually feel my blood pressure go up. She looks sad, for some reason. And I'm trying to figure out if it's about the money or something else.
"Hey." I say softly, taking her face into my hands. She continues looking away for a moment before finally returning my eye contact and when she does she looks like the most adorable sad thing in the world. But also kills me because I hate seeing her sad. It's like she's happy about the place but then sad because she doesn't want me to be the one carrying the cost. But I wish that sometimes, Rosie would just let me take care of things.