by K. S. Thomas
“Holy shit.” She’s right. It is. It’s everywhere, in every frame, every twinkle of her gorgeous eyes, every quirk of her sexy smile.
It’s real.
Everything between us, it’s as real as it gets.
And that can only mean one thing.
“She lied to me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tessa
“Do you live here?” a perky looking woman wearing a colorful chef’s smock asks me as soon as I come the stairs, moving within her line of vision.
“Um, sort of. I’m to the right.” I point at the opposite door.
She twists her mouth up, clearly frustrated over something. “Is there any chance you know your neighbor well enough to take a delivery for them? It has to be refrigerated, otherwise I’d just leave it,” she explains.
“I think I probably know him well enough to do that.” Whether he likes me well enough to want me to, is a separate question entirely. One she’s not likely to ask, however, so I reach out my free hand to accept whatever Lane has coming to him.
Except now she’s hesitating, like maybe she’s sensing Lane’s disapproval already. “It’s a him that lives here?”
“Well, he’s the only one staying there right now. It’s not just his place though.”
This only seems to complicate matters for her. Frazzled, she holds the package out for me to see. “My delivery is for Tessa Harrison. Tell me honestly, am I remotely close to getting this to her?”
I laugh, for the first time in ages. “Closer than you think. I’m Tessa.”
Her eyes narrow skeptically. “You are?”
“Yeah, I know that seems weird now, but it’s a complicated story. Just, hold on and I’ll get my ID out.”
She waves her hand dismissing my offer. “That’s fine. You know what, I totally believe you. I have a truck full of things that are probably melting and frankly, I don’t have time to doubt you.” She hands me the box. “Enjoy.” Then she scuttles past me to the stairs and disappears.
“Thanks,” I call after her halfheartedly.
With both hands full between books and my new mystery box, getting inside turns out to be somewhat challenging. I’m so engulfed with my attempts to line the key up just right without putting anything down, I don’t even notice that I’m no longer alone out here.
“Need a hand?”
I spin around so fast at the sound of his voice, I nearly drop half of what I’m holding. “Shit. No!” I scramble to readjust everything. “I’m good, thanks.”
“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he mutters, walking toward me and taking my bag and books regardless of my telling him no. Then, he takes things a step farther and walks away with them.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“Going inside,” he says matter of factly as he opens his door and begins to walk in. “Coming?”
“No!” Except I do, because he just took off with all of my stuff.
“Still very contradictory, I see,” he muses in an oddly annoyed fashion.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, gulping down a ball of nerves that continues to bebop up and down in my throat.
“Because I miss my roommate and I don’t know any other way to get her back.” He walks to my bedroom, tosses my bag inside and closes the door. Then, using more care, he places my books on the kitchen counter before walking toward me to meet me in the middle of the living room.
“What?”
“You heard me. I want you to move back in.”
I shake my head, unable to answer.
“No expectations, Tess. No complications. Just roommates.”
“It’s too late. No one will ever believe that’s all we are now,” I argue.
He shrugs. “People can think what they want. I’m not your professor anymore.”
“You’re not?”
He smirks. “Should have come to class last week. You would have heard me tell everyone that Dr. Cremer is ending her maternity leave early.”
“Then why stay? If your job is done don’t you need to move on? Find something new to do?” I ask, incapable of grasping hold of this new possibility when there’s still such a huge chance it might not last.
“Already doing it. And it’s local, so I’m not looking to move.”
He’s being vague. I can’t decide if this bothers me or not. Maybe I’d rather not know.
“So, you’re not moving, you’re not my teacher, and you want me to move back in because you miss having a roommate,” I summarize, just in case I missed anything.
“Yep.” He nods, eyes moving to the box I’m still holding in my hands. “How about you set that down and we can start by making coffee. We’re always good over a solid cup of joe.”
“A trial coffee,” I concede, gingerly walking toward the kitchen as if I’m worried my legs my break off underneath me.
“I can accept that,” he says, an all too familiar grin returning to his mouth. Part of me knows I should bolt right here and now. I’ll never be able to do this. Be roommates. But then I realize the thing I’ll never be able to do even more is walk away from him a second time. I’ll take a roommate over nothing at all. And those are the only two options we have left. After everything that’s happened, all that running and doubt and flat-out insane he’s witnessed from in me, how could he ever want to be more? Maybe in the long run being friends will turn out to be the best choice for both of us. We’re good as friends. Maybe even great. It’s worth finding out.
“Want to know something weird?” I ask, holding the box out and away from me. “I have no idea what’s in here, but there’s something sticky leaking out of the bottom and now all I keep thinking is someone sent me a head or something.”
“That’s not really that weird.” He takes the box and places it on the kitchen table. “I mean, it would be weird if that were true. Not all that weird that it’s what you’re thinking. As a trained psychologist who’s been studying you very closely for some time now, I can tell you that your mental wiring? All fucked up.”
“Gee, thanks for that, doc.”
“Anytime.” He places both hands on top of the carton. “Alright, you ready to face the non-decapitation hiding in here?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” The goo on my hands is dark brown, making a strong case for my blood and head in a box theory, but I don’t say that out loud.
“Here goes.” He flips the top open.
I see it. My hand moves to my mouth, covering the inaudible gasp.
“Dirt cake,” I whisper. “With gummy worms.” I choke up somewhere between gummy and worms. I can’t believe she did this. It even says Happy Birthday on it in big swirly pink lettering, same as she did it every year from the time I was thirteen.
Understanding surfaces in Lane’s face. “It’s your birthday.”
I nod. Still covering my mouth with my fingers, trying to hold in the chaos of emotions barreling their way through me.
“There’s a card,” Lane says, reaching inside the box and lifting out a small pink envelope.
My hands shaking, I accept it and carefully open it up.
It’s a birthday card from Aunt Edi. Tears are blurring my vision, making it difficult to read and I have to keep wiping my eyes every few words. Even after I’ve read the whole card, I just keep reading it over and over again. Her words. Her love. Just for me.
“It’s Drea!” my best friend’s voice suddenly bursts through the internal fog I’ve been caught up in. “I’m coming in!” she calls out from the other side of the door. Then we hear her start to count back from ten.
I blink at Lane. “What is she doing?”
He chuckles and starts for the door. “Trying to spare herself the sight of my naked ass.”
Drea’s standing in the open doorway, glancing back and forth between us two. A second later she’s glaring at the both of us in disappointment. “Why aren’t you guys doing it? You’ve made up. You should have her naked and bent over the kitchen table by no
w,” she scoffs. “Now that would be a happy birthday.” Then she takes a closer look at me. “Wait. Why are you crying.” She turns on Lane faster than he can keep up with her. “What did you do?!”
“He didn’t do anything, you nutcase.,” I blubber rushing over to hug her. “Aunt Edi sent Dirt Cake.”
Drea’s lips press together in a thin line the way they always do when she’s trying not to cry. “Only Aunt Edi would figure out how to send Dirt Cake from the great beyond,” she says, her voice hushed and strained. “She’s the best aunt ever.”
I nod. “I know.”
Then, because Lane is Lane and knows no boundaries, he’s wrapping both of us up in his arms swaying us back and forth in the coziest (and not at all suffocating) group hug I’ve ever been forced into.
It takes some more tears and a little bit of time, but we wind up sitting on the floor in the living room, the cake at our center, all three of us carving away at the creamy chocolatey goodness and slurping up the occasional gummy worm.
“I bet I can still get my reservation back,” Drea says, wiping chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “We’ll probably just have to go later than I planned.”
I shake my head. I’ve always wanted to have a special dinner at the Rose Garden, but I imagined it would be romantic and sweet and my own sort of bit of fairy tale. Going on a double date with my best friend, her love and my roommate just doesn’t add up to that fantasy. “I don’t need a fancy dinner, Drea. It’s already a pretty perfect birthday just like this.”
“I agree with Drea,” Lane chimes in. “We should go out. Celebrate properly.”
I can see I’m not going to win this, so I agree to compromise. “Fine. But not the Rose Garden.”
Lane nods. “It’s your birthday, you pick.” It’s weird, his being so accommodating. It’s been weird from the moment he ambushed me out in the hall, but I’m still trying to pretend it’s not because weird Lane is still so much better than no Lane at all.
“The Docks.”
Drea scowls. “The last time I ate there I was puking coconut shrimp for days.”
“Yeah, because you drank a bottle of Malibu rum to go with them,” I remind her. “Maybe stick to water tonight and you won’t have that problem.”
“The Docks. I think that’s the perfect place to go celebrate,” Lane adds thoughtfully, placing his spoon down on the edge of the box.
“You do?” I mean, obviously I think it is.
“Yeah.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the side of the recliner. “Live music, good food and a fun vibe. Plus, it’s right on the beach, what’s not to like?”
“The coconut shrimp,” Drea mumbles. “But I can see that I’m outnumbered here,” she says, getting up to her feet, “so I’ll go call Scott and let him know dinner is back on, just slightly relocated.”
Lane and I both watch her leave and close the door behind her.
It’s just us.
“What now, birthday girl?” he asks, an innocent smile on his beautiful face. It should go against nature for a man to be this beautiful.
“It’s time for gifts,” I announce, jumping up to get my bag from where Lane dumped it in my room earlier.
“You remember the part where I was surprised to learn today was your birthday, right?” he calls after me from his spot in the living room.
I walk back in, content satisfaction spreading through me knowing I get to do something that feels really right for the first time in a long while. “It’s not a birthday gift. It’s more like a return to owner gift. Which I guess makes it less of a gift, but it’s my birthday so I can call it whatever I want.” I plop back down, legs crossed and my bag in my lap. It takes a bit of digging around, but I locate my check book. Thankfully, the pen I used last time I wrote a check is still hooked to the inside.
“What are you doing?” he asks, frowning. Apparently, he’s one of very few people in the world who don’t rejoice at the sight of money coming their way.
“Returning your rent money,” I say, writing his name and date on the top. “It’s been a pretty eventful week for me too. While I missed out on the news of your departure as our teacher, I received some unexpected news of my own. Like I have a bank account you’ve been making monthly deposits to.” I finish filling in the blanks and sign it. “Here. Just give me a few days before you cash it. I still have to transfer stuff around.”
He looks confused. “Why are you paying me back my rent money? I’ve been living here this whole time. I don’t care where the rent money goes, I owed it.”
I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. And I can’t keep it. It’s weird. The condo is paid for, it costs me nothing to live here and I wouldn’t charge Drea to stay here with me, why would I charge you?” I shake the check at him, trying to entice him to take it already. “I wouldn’t,” I answer my own question when he’s still hesitating.
“Tess, I appreciate this, but I don’t need this money, and I know you could use it...just keep it. You’re my landlord now, right? We have a lease and everything. It’s totally legit.”
I lean forward and drop it in his unwilling lap. “It doesn’t feel legit. It feels icky. I don’t want icky money. I’ve had enough with the ick.”
“If I take this, you’re letting me pay for your birthday dinner tonight. So I don’t have to feel the ick over not getting you a proper present,” he mocks.
“You may want to take a moment to reconsider. I plan on eating a lot. Appetizers. At least one entree, maybe two. And let’s not forget dessert. I may not want to have to choose, so I might order everything on their menu.” I may sound dramatic, but I’m being quite serious. The last week of starving myself has finally come to an end and my stomach is practically screaming for food. I ate nearly a third of this pudding cake and it barely lined the inside of this empty pit within me.
“I’m fully committed,” he confirms, eyes crinkling at the corners, “order away.”
The worst ever birthday just might turn out to be the best.
Lane
“I’ll have the coconut shrimp, please,” Drea says, smiling at our server and the whole table turns to stare at her. “What? I’m not having the rum.”
Tess laughs and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day, though I’m doing my part not to show just how much I’m enjoying it. It’s not very roommate like to feel the way I feel when I’m around her. And I’m undoubtedly feeling all the shit I thought I was done feeling. And then some.
I may not know what made her drop and run last week, but I know I’m not letting her do it a second time. Even if I have to take the long way to her heart, this time I’m getting in so deep she can’t kick me out again.
But, that means it’s time for full disclosure. No more separation between past and present when I’m sitting face to face with everything I want for my future.
Scott clears his throat. “Just so I’m caught up on everything. Tessa and you are...what exactly?” Drea jabs him with her elbow and winces. “What? It’s a fair question. We all know you’re going to be all up in their business, I’m going to need to know what it is, so I can properly wrangle you back when necessary.”
Tess laughs, though Drea appears less amused. He’s not wrong. That woman knows no limits to her meddling and she’s got the attention span of a fruit fly, between the two, things can get a little crazy with her bursting in and out all the time.
“We’re friends,” Tess answers, picking up the dessert menu as she says it and I have to wonder if it’s merely for an excuse to keep her attention on something that can’t call her out on any bullshit. “Well, and roommates. At least until his lease is up.”
“Friends.” Scott’s gaze wanders back and forth between us. “Naked friends or friends that Drea can bust in on without counting to ten in the hallway?”
“Oh, she can keep doing the counting thing,” I tell him, and her. “Gives me a little buffer to mentally prepare myself.”
Another round of laughter
ensues at Drea’s expense. This time she gives in to her boyfriend’s nudging and sees light in her own crazy – though always well-intentioned – behavior.
Appetizers turn to dinner and dinner makes way for five different desserts, all of which Tess samples before claiming the key lime pie as her own.
“You never did tell me how your breakfast went with Riley this morning,” Drea points out, trying to distract Tess and sneak a bite of the pie.
“About as expected,” she responds, gracing Drea with an expression I would generously translate to meaning ‘zip it’.
In true Drea fashion, she ignores this and carries on, “Did you call her out for this bullshit with your mom?”
“Drea!”
“Your mom?” My interest is piqued. “Did something happen with your mother?”
“Oh, you didn’t tell him?” Drea asks, wide eyed and innocent. “I figured since you guys were moving in together again you must have.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re just backing me into a corner thinking if things get awkward enough, I have to tell him,” Tess hisses at her. This birthday dinner is taking a serious turn in the wrong direction, and fast.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I intervene. “No expectations, remember? Your business is your business.” I want to leave it at that, but I can’t. “Just...are you...is everything okay? Now?”
She fidgets with her fork, probably hoping the rest of us would temporarily disappear. “I think so. I talked to my cousin Meredith and she said she’d handle it.”
I get why she’s so focused on her damn utensils now. Every answer she has only begs for more questions she doesn’t want us to ask.
“So, you are giving her the condo?” Drea presses. It’s not exactly what came to my mind. In fact, I didn’t know that was even being considered.
“You’re what?”
Frustrated, Tess slams both hands into the table, nearly spilling a couple of drinks. “No! I’m not giving anyone the condo. It’s been a really long fucking day, okay? A lot has happened that you guys don’t know about. Conversations you weren’t a part of and a crapload of drama I’ve tried to steer each of you clear of because it’s mine to figure out and I’m not dragging anyone down with my mess. Now, I’ve worked really hard at that and I’d really appreciate a little more support in that area. So, if you could all just mind your own business and trust that I am handling things, that would be fantastic, thanks.”