The Roommate 'dis'Agreement

“Maybe I need to join your gym. You’ve lost a lot of weight and grown six inches.”

He sidled up next to me and pressed his hand on the top of my head, proving just how much taller he was than me—fourteen inches to be exact. “You could use a few inches. Although if you did that, I wouldn’t be able to slyly check your scalp for dandruff.”

I shoved at him, feigning offense. It didn’t take long before we both lost the cloak of nervous energy and fell into an easy fit of hilarity. He tossed the empty water bottle into the trash—which I learned was in a pull-out drawer next to the sink—and led me to a hallway off the kitchen.

“The bedrooms are back here”—he pointed to two closed doors, one at the head of the hall, the other halfway down on the right—“and the bathroom is here.” He gestured to another closed room, across the hall from the second bedroom. But rather than stop at any of them, or at the very least, let me see inside, he unlocked the door positioned at the very end. A small window set in the middle, thin plastic blinds blocked the light from the outside, and what appeared to be a handmade curtain had been draped along the top.

“And this is the back yard.” He opened the door, which led to two wooden steps ending at the thick, healthy lawn.

I stepped out, not planning on doing anything other than take a look, but the second I noticed the plastic sandbox set in the corner, a child’s beach umbrella stuck in the grass beside it, I gasped and clutched my chest.

“Did you…?” I pointed to it and covered my mouth, trying to swallow my emotions before they bubbled out.

“You said she liked the sandbox at the park. I checked out the local ones within walking distance, but there’s only two, and both seem to be geared more for older children. I even drove to the one at the end of the island, just before the bridge, and it didn’t have a sandbox, either.”

“So you bought her one?” I was seconds away from losing the fight against my tears.

He shrugged as if it were no big deal that he’d purchased something for my child to make her happy, even though he’d never met her. I longed to hug him—no one had ever done anything like that before—but I refrained and stepped back inside.

When he opened the door to the bathroom, the first thing I noticed was the size. It wasn’t big, but the way the builder had designed the small space left plenty of room to move around. Not to mention, it appeared a woman had decorated it.

“Who picked out the décor?” I teased—there was no way it had been him.

“I had someone come over last week while I was gone to get it all set up for you. I knew you didn’t have anything other than clothes, so I wanted to make sure everything was ready when you moved in.”

Just before leaving the room, I noticed a child’s training potty in the corner next to the toilet. “Did you tell her to get that, too?” I gestured to the pink and white seat on the floor.

“You said she needed to learn. Better here than on my couch.” Again, he acted like it wasn’t a big deal, like anyone would’ve done the same. But I knew better. My own mother hadn’t so much as bought one box of diapers since the day Aria was born, let alone a training pot and sandbox.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, or why it came as such a shock, but I was rendered speechless when he showed me the bedroom across the hall. The walls were divided in half with white wainscot on the bottom and pink paint decorating the top. White decals of cherry blossom trees extended from the far corner of the room. Below it, a toddler bed was made up with a pink-and-white blanket, and a safety rail ran half the length of the tiny mattress. A matching dresser sat against the opposite wall with a ballerina nightlight perched on top that looked to be made of porcelain. The shallow panels of the wainscot were painted black, catching my attention since it didn’t go with the rest of the room.

When I leaned down to run my finger along the dark wall, Cash said, “It’s chalkboard paint. She can draw on it and it’ll come right off. The decorator suggested it. I’d never heard of it before. But kids like that kind of stuff, right?”

I stared at him, my mouth gaping, eyes rapidly blinking.

Worry consumed his features as he took a step back, one foot in the hallway like he was prepared to flee. “We can paint over it. It’s no problem. You didn’t say anything about her liking to draw, but I thought it might make learning to write fun. I did a lot of research and thought it was a good idea, but I didn’t mean to step on your toes. You’re her mom. If anything in here is wrong, just tell me, and I’ll have it fixed before you move in. And that goes with the rest of the house. If you see a safety hazard, point it out. I have no clue what I’m looking for.”

I officially lost the battle with my emotions and scurried to him, where I fell against the hard planes of his chest, my fists gripping the sides of his shirt as if to steady myself. His heart thrummed beneath my ear, and after a moment of me silently appreciating him, he finally enveloped me in his embrace.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the damp material of his T-shirt.

“So…it’s okay? I didn’t fuck up?”

I shook my head, giggling, and pulled away, not at all caring about the sweat that had transferred onto me from his clothes. “No, you didn’t mess up at all. It’s perfect. So unbelievably amazing, I have no words.”

Relief filled his eyes as he pulled in a deep breath and slipped out of the room.





6





Cash





Jade was so hard to read at times, and it worried me that I’d lost my touch. Seeing the truth in people’s eyes and picking up the deception in their reactions were things I’d prided myself on for nine years. Yet somehow, a tiny brunette with eyes that resembled the hottest part of a flame came into my life, and I found myself all sorts of turned around.

She’d cry one second, show affection I wasn’t used to the next, and before I knew it, she’d shake her head and laugh, as if the whole thing had been a joke. I had no idea if I’d done something right, wrong, or what. But she didn’t have anything other than a suitcase full of clothes and her car, and with her money dwindling from her savings account while she tried to feed, clothe, and diaper her child, the last thing she needed to do was buy furniture for my house.

“I didn’t do much to your room. I wanted it to be feminine yet give you a canvas you could make your own.” I wasn’t sure how she’d react, considering what had happened after the last two rooms I showed her; although, I could tell by the look on her face that she loved the white-washed wood and pastel coloring.

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