Page 70 of The New Place

“Why does Newbury matter? We’d be getting a place together.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So why does your job matter? Or waiting however many years?”

Discomfort itches up Ned’s neck. Of course it fucking matters. Are they really doing this? Talking about money? Ned needed some warning. A drink. An escape plan, that’s for damn sure.

“It just does,” Ned manages.

At his current salary, and with the payments he has to make, and supporting Peggy—if it were Abbot, he’d have a spreadsheet and a timeline and a fucking plan. But what’s the point, when the end of every month comes along and Ned’s barely moved the needle on what he owes?

“I’d just need some more time, is all,” Ned says. “Sort some stuff out.”

Like selling an organ, maybe. Research how absolutely stupid it would be to cash out what little retirement savings he has.

“But as you said, my house is worth a lot more than when I bought it,” Abbot says.

“Yeah,” Ned gets out. Of course it is, owning it for so long. But he was with Louis when he bought it, wasn’t he? Did they buy it together? Ned has no idea, he realizes. Abbot doesn’t talk about him, like he doesn’t talk about most things. Does Louis still own some of that house? Did he ever?

“So if I sell it, I can buy us a place.”

“Okay,” Ned says, because it’s easier to keep agreeing and let his thoughts swirl. Though they stop then, and he backs up, piecing together what Abbot said to Sandy, too. Slowly, he asks, “But you’d have to pay off your mortgage, right?”

Ned waits as he drives down a block, from stop sign to stop sign, Abbot sitting quietly beside him. “Right?” Ned prompts again.

“I own it.”

“You own it,” Ned says, relieved he’s not naming Louis as holding the other part of the deed. Abbot and the bank only—which is…which is actually not what he’s saying, not at all. Ned’s voice is too high as he asks, “Outright?”

“Yes.”

Ned jerks the wheel a little. A pothole, he wants to blame it on, but the road is smooth. “You own your house?”

“I do.”

“What? Why?”

“Why?” Abbot echoes. “Because I paid it off a couple years ago.”

How? Ned doesn’t let himself squeak. He’s going to take another wrong turn, he’s sure. It doesn’t matter because Abbot is—he owns his house. And has enough money for a down payment too, apparently, on top of that. His car, Ned suddenly thinks. Does he own that too? He’s always assumed Abbot’s been paying it off like any normal person, but Abbot is not talking about normal things right now, he’s talking about⁠—

“Are you rich?” Ned asks.

“I—what?”

“Sorry.” Ned grips the wheel. That was rude. He’s sure that was rude, but his head is such a mess he’s not entirely certain. Owning a house and a car feels rude, frankly.

He’s…he’s jealous, he knows. And a little off-kilter. Confused to be learning this from Abbot sitting so calmly in the passenger seat of Ned’s slightly less shitty car than the last one Abbot rode in.

“I suppose I’d need more parameters to answer that.”

Ned waves a hand. “It’s none of my business.” Of course it isn’t. Abbot’s finances are his to worry about.

Though he probably doesn’t have to worry. Ned wouldn’t, if he owned a house outright.