“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not even close.”
I turned around.
“What does that mean?”
Mason smiled.
“We didn’t just buy the house.”
My stomach dropped.
“What else?”
They both laughed.
“We had it renovated.”
I stared at them.
“You did what?”
Noah pointed toward the kitchen.
“Come see.”
I followed them.
The kitchen was beautiful.
New cabinets.
Large windows.
A long wooden island.
A small breakfast nook overlooking the garden.
And on the wall was a framed photograph.
I walked closer.
It was a picture of the three of us.
Taken years ago.
Mason and Noah were maybe seven.
I was kneeling between them, smiling at the camera.
I touched the frame.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your old photo album.”
“You went through my things?”
“Yes.”
“You’re terrible.”
They laughed.
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