Roomie Wars Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Kat T. Masen

  And that’s night one.

  Night two—I’m driving myself insane taking a sleeping pill so I can rest during the day and be able to work at night. I have turned back into jealous Drew, and my thoughts spawn from the devil as I imagine him touching her. It takes every ounce of self-control not to go down to her office and beat the shit out of him. Again, I’m not that guy. I’d done it once before with Jess when he tried to win Zoey back and learned my lesson rather quickly.

  It doesn’t help that Raine switched her shifts to the same as mine. I avoid her as much as possible, afraid I will cave and tell her what happened. Thankfully, she been dumped with admin work, and I’ve busied myself in the ER.

  Night three—Calm, rational Drew has creeped out slowly. I thought long and hard about our relationship. I need to trust her. My life depends on trusting her. So, she’s with him. And although it hurt me that she lied, if there’s nothing more to it, then why should I give up the best thing that’s happened to me?

  Night four—The night I open my email and find an invoice from the wedding venue. I almost fall off my chair when I see the thirty-thousand-dollar bill. The anger screams at me, and I want to call her, tell her no fucking way, but know I have to calm down. The pressure’s on, and the wedding is less than three weeks away.

  We aren’t even together!

  Night five—I’m no closer to resolving my mixed emotions. One minute I’m desperate to tell her I should have trusted her, and the next, I have that image of him touching her back so comfortably that it makes me think of what they did in his apartment. What else he might have fucking touched that belongs to me.

  But things take a turn for the worse tonight.

  It starts off with a pile-up on the bridge which results in a family of five being rushed to emergency. The mother’s in critical condition which we’re able to stabilize but had to fly the youngest child to another hospital. Thankfully, she has only minor injuries.

  It’s somewhere just after midnight when Troy comes bustling through the doors with a very panicked Mia breathing in and out. She’s only thirty-four weeks pregnant but is showing signs of early labor. Troy’s of no help, the helpless fucker equally as panicked. I grab one of the wheelchairs and call the nurse to take them up to delivery. I specialize more in ER and cardiology rather than maternity but tell them I will check in on them soon knowing first labors are usually long.

  I attend to a guy who has accidentally drunk mouthwash during his sleepwalk thinking it’s water, which ended with stomach cramps. It’s shortly after, I find out that Mia gave birth. It turns out their baby girl just wanted to get out fast. She’s a precious little thing. I spent some time with them before I have to get back and finish my shift.

  ***

  It’s sometime after eight in the morning when I run into Raine at the main desk.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, bluntly.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “At avoiding me. It’s okay. I’m a big girl. I get it. You’re marrying the love of your life.”

  I briefly pause lifting my gaze only slightly before continuing the paperwork in front of me. “I don’t know if that’s happening. We’re on a break.”

  “A break as in to cool down? Or a break as in break-up?” she asks with inquiring eyebrows.

  “I don’t know anymore,” I admit, reluctantly.

  “Okay…” she trails off. “Do you want to talk about it? Feelings aside, I consider myself a good listener, but you have to excuse my growling stomach, I accidentally dropped my nut bar in the toilet.”

  I laugh, welcoming the distraction. “Should I ask how?

  “My pager was beeping, and my bladder was screaming. You’re a smart guy, work it out,” she responds with a grin.

  “Here.” I pull one out of my top pocket and hand it to her. “Eat it.”

  “I can’t take that.”

  “You will because it’s doctor’s orders,” I tell her with a stern voice.

  “Wow, you make that sound so hot,” she teases, bumping her side against mine.

  I laugh loudly as she leans her head on my arm the same time I glance up and see Zoey staring right back at me. Her wounded expression soon follows with anger and resentment, the same expression she had when she busted her ex, Jess, cheating with her best friend. The sound of her footsteps echo against the floor as she stomps toward me wearing those wedged heels that make her legs look irresistible.

  You miss her. Now is not the time to be thinking about her legs.

  “Zoey,” I begin, then stall as Raine peels herself off my arm.

  The green orbs that have taunted me since the moment she became my roommate stare back at me cold. It’s not the same Zoey. Miss Eats-Cheetos-on-top-of-ice-cream because it’s much easier than eating it in separate servings. Wears my trunks to bed claiming they’re more comfortable than her sleepwear. I tried buying her a pair, but she said it didn’t feel the same as my worn ones. Go figure. The same woman who lined up, or should I say camped, for two days outside the Staples Center waiting for KISS concert tickets.

  “I don’t have anything to say.” She turns her back as I quickly move past the desk to follow her. She’s making a quick getaway toward the exit, and with long strides, I make it to her side latching onto her arm to stop her.

  “You know? I do have something to say,” she raises her voice removing her arm from my grip. “You’re a bigger asshole than I thought. Here I was feeling guilty for stopping by Slater’s place which, I might add, was a work errand.” She takes a breath before unleashing again. “And then the whole pineapple thing, don’t get me started on that. But do you know what was the final straw?”

  Waiting for my response, I keep my expression fixed knowing this isn’t the moment to answer.

  “Finding out that you’re quick to point all blame on me when you spent the night with Sky, Leaf, or whatever the fuck her name is… at a sex club,” she shouts startling an old man smoking near the entrance.

  “Zoey, I can explain.”

  “Funny that I can explain what happened on Saturday, too, but sadly, I was never given the chance.” She pulls the ring off her finger extending it forward for me to take. “Here.”

  I push it back determined to fix this fucking mess. “Don’t fucking do this, Zoey. It’s just all this wedding bullshit that’s fucked everything up.”

  “Wedding bullshit? I’m sorry that I’ve exhausted myself in planning the perfect wedding for us.”

  “For you, Zoey, not us, you.”

  “No, Drew, that’s where you’re wrong. Everything I did was for you—” She stops mid-sentence, collecting her thoughts. “Except the doves, that was for Mia. If you took a moment to listen to me rather than push me away, you would have seen that. I chose VW Beetle wedding cars… for you. The venue? It’s the only one in the city that serves organic meals, which I paid extra… for you. The band I chose, the instrumental orchestra, they play the same kind of music that you and your dad listened to while fixing cars. In fact, they were the only ones who could play almost identical.

  “Everything I did was with you in mind. You may think I was going overboard and called me a Bridezilla on more than one occasion, but all I wanted was to please you and be your wife. Make it a day neither one of us would forget.”

  Crossing her arms, the corners of her lips remain flat as we stand in silence. I can see she’s in defense mode protecting herself from the big bad wolf—me.

  “Zoey, I—”

  “Nothing, Drew. There’s nothing left to say.”

  There’s plenty more to say, yet she walks away, head held high as if her life hasn’t fallen into pieces.

  I know right at that moment, she is the one.

  So, I’m comfortable and, I’m settling for what I know.

  But I am head over fucking heels in love with this stubborn woman. The air around me doesn’t exist if she isn’t part of my life.

  Our foundation, the friendship that began many moons ago was buil
t on solid ground.

  We were roomies, best friends, then lovers.

  And nothing in the world is going to stop me from making her my wife.

  Chapter Ten

  Zoey

  I was seven years old when I first had my heart broken. His name was Michael Jackson. Not the actual Michael Jackson, but this little red-haired, freckle-faced Michael Jackson who lived in the yellow house on the corner of our block.

  Almost everyone called him Jackie—a name that suited his boisterous personality. He loved to play in the dirt, throw rocks at random objects, and ride his bike along the footpath with his cap backward. The bad boy you knew you should stay away from but couldn’t help dreaming about.

  One afternoon, on our walk home from school, he rode past and yelled, “Zoey, Zoey, smells like baloney.”

  My first reaction was to smell my armpits. Could a person smell like baloney? Mom often made baloney sandwiches, and what would I know at seven. I thought I smelled like grape. I had an addiction to grape-flavored Fun Dips since I snuck them into my bag and ate them on the way home each day.

  But his cruel words stuck with me like a broken record until my older brother, Scott, blatantly told me, “Boys like to tease girls if they like them.”

  Who would have thought? Little old me. This was the most ludicrous thing I had heard in my life. You tease someone because you like them. The more I thought about it, the more I started to supposedly fall in love with him. Jackie, the uncontrollable ten-year-old who wore his blue Hypercolor T-shirt to school every day.

  I decided to confront him the next day, but he never showed or the day after that. It turned out that he was a foster child and was sent to another family a couple of towns over.

  It broke my heart.

  I cried and thought I would never love another boy again.

  Because that’s what I thought it was—love.

  Whitney Houston should have prepared me for such a broken heart. Her songs became my life anthem, and until this day, I often think of Jackie whenever I eat a baloney sandwich.

  There were other boys, then men, that I found myself infatuated with, but Jess would ultimately be the heartbreaker. It was a no-brainer that he would destroy me. A phase in my life that I would rather forget until recently when I looked back and thought how much it shaped my perception of relationships. I learned a lot from that train-wreck of a man and my ability to rise above it as a stronger person. While he physically didn’t abuse me, the emotional abuse scarred just as bad.

  The only thing that got me through that time was the unconditional support of my roomie, Drew Baldwin.

  He saw it all and witnessed me ugly-cry on way too many occasions. I look back at it now and wonder why I allowed myself to react the way I did—destructive with a thirst for vengeance. You could say a broken heart makes you do unimaginable things, but as time passed and I became wiser, I realized any man who would have stepped into my life at that moment would have had me reacting the same.

  That’s what the twenties are for, to overdramatize life and to fall in and out of love.

  And so here I am engaged to a man who’s left me questioning his faithfulness to our relationship with just over a week to go before our wedding. Ironically, my thirties don’t seem to be any better.

  I’m trapped in a mess that seems impossible to climb out of like a fly trapped in a web, a bleak future ahead unable to untangle itself from the wrath of the almighty spider.

  The morning Mia has the baby, I make an effort to get to the hospital to visit her and catch Drew. Despite him being a big asshole for smashing my pineapple, I need to talk face to face. This is not what people do before a wedding—take breaks. We’re both furious with each other, but deep down I know this is fixable.

  It has to be.

  After gushing over Mia’s baby and secretly wanting one of my own, we get to talking about my relationship status which urges Troy to leave the room. For someone who’s just welcomed his firstborn into the world, he seems withdrawn. Maybe it’s me and my aura of negativity as Gigi calls it.

  “Okay, he’s gone. Zoey, I need to tell you something.”

  I scrunch my nose. “That your baby shit her pants?”

  “No…” She hesitates, her nostrils flaring followed by a look of absolute disgust. “Is that what that smell is? Should I call the nurse? How do I change a poo?”

  I laugh, grabbing a diaper and some wipes from the bedside table. “It’s easy, here.”

  We lay the baby on the bed while changing her diaper. It’s one of those sticky black poos. My sister-in-law had told me the first ones are the grossest, so it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that we have almost used a whole packet of wipes to clean her dirty bottom.

  Mia has zero experience with babies—one of her fears when she found out she was pregnant—she’s repulsed by what she’s just seen.

  “Okay, all done.” I smile at baby Madeline, cooing as she lets out a small yawn. “You were saying?”

  “The boys went to a sex club on Saturday night, and Drew was there with that girl he works with, Storm or something. Nothing happened, at least I don’t think so. Troy left because he was annoyed, and Drew had been drinking,” she says it in one breath, staring back at me with sorrow.

  “Raine,” I choke, holding the baby to distract the tiny stabs stinging my already-fragile heart. “What do you mean by sex club?”

  “They watch people having sex. I know, Troy’s a fucking idiot.” Mia instantly covers her mouth. “Crap! I just swore in front of the baby. This isn’t good parenting…”

  I ignore her rambling. Unbeknown to her, there’s a loud explosion. My heart—completely shattered—has broken to pieces. The thoughts swirling around my uncooperative brain make no sense.

  What does this mean?

  He had sex with her?

  He watched people have sex with her?

  Why the fuck was she even there!

  Mia taps my arm. “Zoey, are you okay?”

  “No. Mia. I’m not okay.” I stand up, handing the baby back to Mia, putting on a fake smile. “I have to go.”

  “Zoey, wait. Drew would never do that to you. There has to be an explanation. He just wouldn’t,” she rushes, fighting back the tears that cloud her already-tired eyes.

  I lean in and kiss her forehead—this isn’t her problem. She has a loving husband—albeit a dickhead for taking Drew to a sex club—and a beautiful baby. I am many things, but a selfish friend is not one of them.

  I take my business outside of her room walking out to the hall to catch the tight breath I’ve been holding in. I can barely walk, my head dizzy, the hallway swaying as if I am sitting on an amusement ride called ‘Zoey’s fucked-up love life.’

  And then, I see him, with her, and the image says everything.

  It might be nothing to anyone else, but to me, it’s the man I love smiling and happy with the girl who has stolen him from me, resting her head against his arm.

  It’s premature for me to think she’s stolen him when maybe all along it was his intention. You can’t steal what can’t be stolen.

  I confront him but can barely think straight and therefore say relatively nothing. My eyes are desperate to look at her, berate her for being such a whore. And it’s déjà vu all over again—Callie blowing Jess in his workshop—a moment that scarred me in so many ways and tarnished my ability to trust the ones I love.

  Raine’s everything I’m not—young, smart, and beautiful. Yet, it doesn’t matter, my ego would have been bruised if she was old, dumb, and fat. Someone else makes him smile, and it’s no longer me.

  Drew follows me outside swearing nothing happened. Ironic, since I had said the same words to him only days ago when he refused to listen to me. He made his mind up without hearing my side of the story. So why should I treat him any different?

  The more he talks, the more we argue. It’s clear that communicating is something we have trouble with. He rambles on about the wedding, blaming me for letting it driv
e a wedge between us. I can tolerate many things but accusing me of doing something wrong when all along my intentions are to make him happy, angers me beyond words.

  I give it to him, all my thoughts wrapped up in one clusterfuck of a mess. He stands there staring back at me like the old Drew. The one who doesn’t love Zoey Richards. The Drew with his head so far up his ass along with the string of women who used to follow him.

  Manwhore Drew is a selfish prick and never wanted to settle down with one woman.

  And the joke’s on me.

  I tried to make him something he isn’t, and I’ve failed miserably.

  Removing the ring from my finger is like pulling dead weight, a move so painful but necessary at this moment. Of course, his stubborn ass refuses to accept it back pushing my hand away in a frenzy of panic.

  It’s just like a scene in a movie with me walking away as the man I love stands amongst the crowd, head bowed attempting to control his emotions. As I walk away, I keep my head high as a sign of respect to myself. Why? Because the pain is rapidly eating away at me, and I’m terrified beyond words that I will collapse right here in front of the world to be judged and ridiculed.

  ‘Zoey, the stupid idiot for trusting her heart.’

  ‘She should have known that a leopard can’t change its spots.’

  Twenty-seven-year-old Zoey would have throat punched him and kicked him straight in the nuts. But despite the anger rising, I have responsibilities like work and my business that has taken a back seat as of late.

  I don’t know how I’ve gotten through the day barely staying afloat so no one can see that every part of me has fallen apart. And I make sure that inside the office, and throughout the meetings, I hold myself together in front of Slater.