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instead. Like duck instead of fuck. Fish instead of bish. I don’t know, it just stuck.”
    Not knowing how to respond to that revelation, I just shake my head with a quirky smile plastered to my face. I love those women as much as she does. They are her rocks. One is my brother’s fiancée. We are all so intertwined I’d be fucked if I didn’t.

“ H ey , Rach!” I open my front door to my favorite real estate guru. I have no idea how she does it; she’s very young, well-connected, and known for finding people their ideal home or office in one trip. She did it with Cam when they found Healing Wings—the foundation she set up after she was raped a couple of years ago—and I know multiple people who sing her praises.
    “Hey, Pipes. If you’re cool with it, I’m going to take pictures, get room dimensions, and get your townhouse information before we go see the houses I picked for you.”
    “Sure. Do you need anything from us?” I ask walking back to the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher.
    “No, this won’t take long. It’s always easier to list a property I’ve spent a lot of time in.”
    True to her word, Rachel finishes with the townhouse in less than thirty minutes and finds us still lingering in the kitchen.
    “Do you guys want to see the specs on the houses we’re going to look at before we leave?” She pulls a stack of papers from her bag, holding them up in question.
    I look at Moby, who shrugs his shoulders. He’s more interested in the chips and dip he’s stuffing his face with. Turning back to Rachel, I say, “Nope. It can be a surprise.” I put the lid on the dip and take the chips from my husband who gives me a face indicating his displeasure. He’s a bottomless pit.
    “Seriously, Piper? You hate surprises, and you never do anything without outlining it in your day planner,” she replies as she lays the paper on the counter in front of me.
    I swat playfully at her arm. “Hush! Let’s go,” I respond with excitement in my voice.
    Pulling up to the first house, I’m not all that impressed with her choice thus far. It’s a small neighborhood, with rather insignificant lots, and the homes all seem to be slight variations of each other. The house is on a corner lot giving it more yard than most of those surrounding it, with a fenced in backyard. It’s a solid brick, one story home. The lawn is lush; someone has taken painstaking measures to ensure the grass is a blanket of green. The bushes accentuate the front nicely, some of them currently in bloom. I like the white flowers, although I have no idea what they are.
    Standing under the huge brick archway, Rachel unlocks the door using the keypad built into the lock—nice touch. The entire space is open with two large pillars supporting the fourteen-foot ceilings as we step inside. Hardwood floors stretch as far as I can see from the door—the front room, dining room, living room, and breakfast room.
    The great thing about looking at houses with Rachel is she’s not trying to sell us on anything. She just unlocks the doors and starts to turn on lights giving us the freedom to find our way around. The kitchen, just beyond the living room opens to the hallway on one side and the breakfast nook on the other with a huge bar. Matching cocoa and beige with sparkling white-flecked granite counter tops in all four of the bathrooms, all with the same dark walnut hardwoods in the rest of the house. Through the laundry room is an oversized two-car garage.
    Circling back to the living room, I flip the switch on the gas logs and make myself at home on the couch. I can envision myself in this space, enjoying the company of friends while we entertain or simply cuddled in Moby’s arms.
    The piece de resistance is the screened-in back porch—six hundred square feet of space. The four ceiling fans would ward off the South Carolina heat and the slate tiles up the opulence. I can see our dog, the imaginary one we’re going to own someday, running