Chapter 2: The Name on the Deed
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The music was still playing, but nobody seemed interested in it anymore.
Tasha stood beside the table, staring at the deed as though the words might rearrange themselves if she looked long enough.
Then she laughed nervously.
"This is ridiculous.""
Nicole remained calm.
"Which part?""
Tasha pointed at the document.
"Why is Marcus's name on the deed?""
Nicole adjusted the folder.
"Because Marcus purchased the property.""
Tasha shook her head.
"No. We bought this house together.""
I stepped away from the grill.
"No, Tasha. I bought this house.""
She turned toward me.
"Don't embarrass me.""
I almost smiled.
It was an interesting request coming from the woman who had just called me a freeloader in front of thirty people.
Nicole opened another section of the folder.
"The purchase agreement is dated September 14, two years before Marcus moved into the property with you.""
Tasha stared at her.
"That doesn't mean anything.""
"It means quite a lot," Nicole replied.
"The purchase price was paid through an account belonging to Marcus's company. The closing documents identify him as the sole buyer.""
Brittany slowly lowered her drink.
One of Tasha's cousins, a man named Darren, stepped closer.
"Hold on. Tasha, didn't you say you owned half this house?""
Tasha shot him a look.
"I do.""
Nicole didn't raise her voice.
"Then perhaps you can show us the deed reflecting that ownership.""
Nobody answered.
I remembered the first time Tasha had visited the property.
It had been a rainy afternoon.
She had walked through the empty living room, touched the kitchen countertops, and smiled.
"Marcus, this place is beautiful.""
I had laughed.
"It's a little bigger than I need.""
She had turned toward me.
"Well, you won't be living alone forever.""
At the time, I thought it was romantic.
Two years later, she was standing in my backyard insisting she owned half the house.
"Marcus," she said, lowering her voice, "can we talk privately?""
I shook my head.
"You didn't seem concerned about privacy when you were insulting me.""
Her face tightened.
"You're making a scene.""
"No. You made the scene. I'm just answering questions.""
She looked toward the guests.
"Everybody knows we've built a life together.""
I nodded.
"We have.""
"Then why are you doing this?""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Because building a life together doesn't mean rewriting the truth.""
Nicole removed a bank statement from the folder.
"There's something else.""
Tasha immediately looked at her.
"What now?""
Nicole placed the statement beside the deed.
"Marcus paid the mortgage, property taxes, insurance, and renovation expenses from his business and personal accounts.""
Tasha scoffed.
"I paid for things too.""
"Nobody is disputing that," Nicole said.
"But household contributions are not the same as legal ownership.""
Tasha folded her arms.
"Well, I paid for furniture.""
"Some furniture," I corrected.
She turned sharply.
"Excuse me?""
"The bedroom set. The sofa in the upstairs guest room. A few decorations.""
"And that's nothing?""
"I never said it was nothing.""
I looked toward the house.
"I appreciated those things. But they didn't buy you half the property.""
Darren cleared his throat.
"Wait, so all this time...""
Brittany interrupted him.
"Can we please not turn this into a courtroom?""
Nicole gave her a polite smile.
"That's actually a good suggestion.""
Then she closed the folder halfway.
"However, I should clarify that this isn't a courtroom. These are simply the documents establishing ownership.""
Tasha's cheeks turned red.
She stepped closer to me.
"Marcus, we need to talk.""
"About what?""
"About our relationship.""
I almost laughed.
Four years.
Four years of waking up beside someone, paying bills, making plans, and believing you were building something meaningful.
And now she wanted to discuss our relationship because a piece of paper had contradicted her.
I looked at her yellow dress.
The gold watch.
The expensive handbag resting on a chair.
I remembered paying for that watch.
I remembered taking an additional renovation contract to afford her birthday trip.
And I remembered the way she had introduced me to her friends that evening.
My boyfriend is basically my charity case.
I had laughed it off at the time.
I wasn't laughing anymore.
"Nicole," I said, "please show her the next document.""
Tasha's eyes narrowed.
"What next document?""
Nicole removed a printed email and placed it on the table.
"This is a correspondence from the mortgage company.""
Tasha looked at the heading.
Then she looked at Nicole.
"What does that have to do with anything?""
Nicole tapped the date.
"Three weeks ago, someone contacted the lender requesting information about refinancing this property.""
My stomach tightened.
I already knew about the inquiry.
But I wanted to hear what Tasha would say.
Nicole continued.
"The request included a proposed change to the ownership structure and asked whether the property could be used as collateral for additional financing.""
Tasha shook her head.
"I don't know anything about that.""
Nicole looked directly at her.
"Your name was included in the correspondence.""
"That's impossible.""
"Would you like me to read it?""
Tasha looked at me.
"Marcus, tell her to stop.""
I didn't move.
Nicole continued reading.
"The applicant stated that she was a co-owner of the property and wished to discuss options for accessing the home's available equity.""
Darren whispered something to Brittany.
Tasha's voice became sharper.
"That's not what happened!""
Nicole folded her hands.
"Then perhaps you can explain why the lender received a request identifying you as a co-owner.""
Tasha looked around.
Thirty people.
Thirty pairs of eyes.
The same people who had laughed when she called me a freeloader were now watching her struggle to answer a simple question.
"I was just asking questions," she said.
I stared at her.
"About refinancing my house?""
"Our house!""
"No, Tasha.""
I pointed toward the deed.
"My house.""
She shook her head.
"You are being incredibly selfish.""
I took a slow breath.
"Did you contact my mortgage company without telling me?""
She didn't answer.
"Did you tell them you owned half the property?""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Marcus, I can explain.""
"Then explain.""
She looked toward Nicole.
Then at the guests.
Finally, she whispered, "I was trying to help us.""
I frowned.
"Help us do what?""
Before she could respond, Nicole removed a final sheet from the folder.
It was a formal document bearing a reference number from the mortgage company's fraud department.
"Marcus," she said quietly, "this is the part I wanted you to see before making any decisions.""
I looked at the document.
Then I noticed the signature at the bottom.
It wasn't mine.
May you like
But it was supposed to be.
And suddenly, the barbecue was the last thing on my mind.
