The Imperfection of Swans by Brandon Witt Page B

work to be at loan closing the day after tomorrow?”
    Casper snorted. “Like I care if they say no. It would be a Christmas present to walk out and never come back.”

 
     
    CASPER
     
    “IF YOU two don’t stop laughing, I’m going to kick you out of here.” Kevin’s mom, Renata, Casper believed her name was, hissed at Kevin’s other mom and one of the aunts, Francesca. Or maybe it was Beatrice. He wasn’t sure. The introductions had been a flurry of voices, hugs, and estrogen.
    Noelle laughed louder and gave her wife a peck on the cheek. “No, you won’t, my darling sourpuss. We both have to sign the papers too.”
    “Well, then, at least remember we’re not at your salon.” Renata motioned to the two ladies sitting on either side of the head of the table. “These are my colleagues. One of whom is doing us a huge favor.”
    “Yes, dear.” Noelle managed to cover her snigger with fingers tipped with alternating red and green nails. The other woman let out one more snorted cackle and then managed to get control, her face reddening at the effort.
    Casper glanced at Kevin, who sat beside him. Kevin just grinned apologetically but didn’t seem truly embarrassed.
     
     
    HE’D SURPRISED himself. Casper had woken up unusually nervous that morning. The thought of putting down so much of his inheritance and owning part of one of the historic brownstones suddenly seemed more daunting than exciting. There would be no going back. Some of the money would be left, but he knew that if things started to go poorly with the shops, that money would go quickly, if there’d even be any left after paying to get the bakery up and running. If this failed, he very well might have to go back to Colorado Springs.
    The thought made his four roommates sound appealing.
    Casper left for the loan closing an hour and a half early to stop by the brownstone. Kevin had given him the code to get into the lockbox, and he’d spent the majority of the time wandering the three levels, even ducking down to check the crawl space, which was nearly large enough to be considered another level. His nerves didn’t fade until he shoved all of the previous owner’s furniture to one side, clearing the space where he envisioned the bakery counter. He didn’t even have to squint. He could see it. The curving marble. The silver and crystal stands holding magazine-quality wedding cakes. His wedding cakes. The assorted Edison lightbulbs hanging from different levels across the space.
    He wasn’t going to fail. This was meant to be.
    They weren’t going to fail.
     
     
    KEVIN ELBOWED him lightly on the arm, drawing Casper’s attention. “Hey, you doing okay?” They’d already signed four different papers, each getting passed down the row of Bivantis and ending with him. Judging from the stack, they had about three thousand to go.
    “Yeah.” Casper glanced at Kevin, then paused, really looking at him. Already he was getting used to those brownish olive-green eyes. He wished he could look longer, really take in the detail of their beautiful striations. Being close to Kevin was both comforting and unnerving. He was just so beautiful he didn’t quite seem real. “Uhm, yes. I’m great, actually.”
    “Still feeling good about all of this?”
    “Completely. We’ve got this!” He meant it. With everything in him. The risk couldn’t be bigger, and yet, in this moment, there seemed to be no risk at all.
    “Good. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you jumping on board like this. I couldn’t have done it without you diving in as deep as the rest of us.”
    Casper didn’t get a chance to respond, as their buyer’s agent began to explain the next form she was passing around. He couldn’t remember her name, either, though he wished he could. She was one of the real-estate agents who worked with Renata and had waived her commission and fees, saving them well over a hundred grand.
    His attention was drawn to the four Bivanti women who lined