by Lake, C. J.
“Oh,” Matt said, disappointed. “I thought you were going to get into detail.” As she giggled and took a sip of her mocha, Matt’s expression turned a bit more serious. Affectionately, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand and said, “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about New Year’s Eve.” Caught off-guard, Emma froze, unsure where this was going. “I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.”
She swallowed hard as her stomach tightened into a tense knot. Still, she waited without interrupting.
“All right, let me start by saying that I had way too much to drink.” Oh, God, she thought, shutting her eyes for a second, dreading what Matt was about to say. Had he hooked up with another woman? Technically he’d had every right to, but it would still crush her--to know that she’d spent so much of New Year’s Eve thinking about him, missing him…
“When I got back to my apartment, I ended up knocking over this open can of soda that was on my desk,” Matt continued, “and it spilled all over our picture.”
Emma waited for more. When it didn’t come, she narrowed her eyes, perplexed. “And…?”
“And it’s destroyed,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. “It must be the cheap photo paper they print them on,” he remarked, taking a drink of his coffee. “Anyway, I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.”
Scrunching her brow, Emma said, “No, not really--I mean…is that it? That’s all that happened on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yeah. But it means now I need another photo of you. To take to my next exam. I’m giving you plenty of notice. I know you weren’t too thrilled at the arcade when I sprung it on you.”
A giddy sort of laugh slipped out of her as she buried her face in her hands. “Omigod, I’m so relieved.” Then she glanced up at him. “I thought you were going to tell me that, you know, maybe you kissed another girl or something.” Something far worse than kissing.
“Another girl?” Matt repeated doubtfully, and dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. “Nah. I couldn’t do that. You’re my girl.”
A smile broke over Emma’s face, as her stomach began to flutter and the reality of what was happening sank into her bones. “I love you,” she said with an exhilarating kind of certainty.
“I love you, too, beautiful.”
Chapter 48
Five months later
“Now are you sure you’re okay with this?” Matt said.
“Yes.”
“You’re totally on board with everything?”
“Um, yes,” she said. “As long as you’re going to help me.”
“Of course,” Matt said adamantly. “Without a doubt.”
“Okay. Then I’m fine with it.”
“And you won’t have any regrets in the morning?”
“Now, how can I know that?” Emma replied sardonically. When Matt continued to look at her, she acquiesced and gave the correct response. “No regrets. We’re all in this together.”
“All right, let’s do this…” he said, as Emma opened the door wider and let him come inside, carrying a large box that was wriggling.
“Matt’s here!” Ben called from the couch.
“Hi, Matt!” Jake yelled.
“Hey, guys. What are you up to?”
Ben said, “Watching TV,” at the same time that Jake said, “Drawing.”
“Cool. Want to take a quick break? I brought something for you.”
Eagerly, Ben slid off the couch and Jake hopped up from the floor. They hurried to the foyer as Matt carefully set the box down. Emma bit her lip, staying near the edge of the stairs, watching the scene from a short distance. This was all Matt’s idea, but she was supporting it because she knew how happy it would make her sons.
Over the past few months the three had become very close, and sometimes her heart nearly overflowed at the sight of them together. They looked up to Matt, and he seemed to understand he was a role model for them and he took that seriously.
Now he knelt down and lifted the lid off the box. Out came a blonde puppy, roughly the size of Matt’s shoe. “A dog!” both boys screamed at once.
“A puppy dog!” Ben exclaimed.
“Where did he come from?” Jake asked, sounding elated.
“A guy I work with had a bunch of puppies he needed homes for; I was thinking you guys might want this one,” Matt said.
“Yeah!” Jake said.
“Mommy, can we?” Ben asked.
She nodded, suppressing a smile that would reveal just what a pushover she was, and stipulated, “Yes, but only if you help Matt take care of him.”
“We will,” Jake promised.
Matt gave them a smile. “So what are you thinking for a name? Now let’s take our time and figure out what--”
“Waffle!” Ben declared.
“Waffle?” Emma echoed with a laugh.
“Yes,” Ben insisted. “I’ve always wanted a dog named ‘Waffle.’”
Matt looked up at her and they exchanged an amused glance. Then he turned to Jake. “Is ‘Waffle’ okay with you, too?”
Jake nodded eagerly.
“All right, then,” Matt said, standing up.
“Waffle, welcome to the family,” Emma said, sidling up closer to the group, and putting her hand on Matt’s back. Sometimes she was so filled with love for him, she felt her heart could burst. He’d passed his Contractor Exam last month, and credited her with inspiring most of his mnemonic devices--some of which were blatantly sexual and downright dirty. Emma could only hope that Matt hadn’t scribbled those in the margins.
Now the boys were consumed with Waffle, vacillating between trying to pet him and darting away, as Waffle ran skittishly through the living room. Matt leaned over and said, “Thanks for letting them keep him,” and then he kissed her on the cheek.
“Thanks for letting me keep you,” she replied and he chuckled, as she wrapped her arms around him.
~ End ~
Author’s Note: If you enjoyed this book, I hope you will consider sharing your thoughts with others and posting a review. Thank you for reading! ~C.J. Lake
~
C.J. Lake is a storyteller who is passionate about art, surfing, and skiing/snowboarding. Residing near the coast of Massachusetts, C.J. is currently working on a new book. Meanwhile, readers can check out her first novel, Constructing Us, which tells the story of Andy and Tragan.
Readers can get in touch via email ([email protected]) or follow C.J. on Twitter @brightbluesurf.
CHECK OUT THIS EXCERPT FROM C.J. LAKE’S FIRST NEW ADULT ROMANCE, CONSTRUCTING US
Chapter One
Ethan Field entered his apartment and found his roommate lounging on the couch playing on his Xbox--as usual. “Tragan, can I talk to you a second?”
“Okay,” came the distracted reply. Tragan’s eyes didn’t leave the screen nor did his hands slow down on the controller.
Briefly Ethan glanced at the television as some jaggedly drawn action figures were loudly getting their heads blown off. He restrained an eye-roll. He wouldn’t exactly miss this. “First of all…did somebody use my bathroom last night?”
Still consumed in his game, Tragan replied, “No, I don’t think so--oh, wait--yes. I forgot. Pellican had some bad clams. Sorry, I guess your bathroom was closer.”
With a tight nod, Ethan said, “I see. I asked because the counter was all wet as if someone had splashed water all around, and my towel was on the floor.”
“Oh, really?” Tragan said, glancing over for a second, appearing contrite. “Sorry, buddy, I didn’t even realize. Listen, just toss your towel with my laundry and I’ll take care of it,” he offered casually.
The mention of Tragan’s laundry brought to mind the pile of dirty clothes on the floor by the dryer that Ethan often had to step over. “No, that’s fine,” Ethan said now, simply refusing the offer instead of retorting: Hasn’t my towel been through enough already?
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Tragan remarked absently, leaning to the s
ide as his thumbs rapidly punched the controller.
Clearing his throat, Ethan proceeded. “There’s something else. You know how I’ve been applying to graduate programs for awhile now?”
“No,” Tragan said.
Ethan paused, flummoxed for a moment. He was sure he had mentioned it on several occasions. Then again, why should he be surprised that his roommate hadn’t heard or retained the information? Though Ethan had lived with Tragan Barrett for over six months, the two were hardly friends. They co-existed peacefully enough--probably due to the fact that they barely interacted. “All right, well, anyway,” Ethan continued, “I’ve been accepted to an environmental biology program in London. I’m planning to move in two weeks.”
That finally got Tragan’s attention. He hit “pause” and glanced over.
Feeling inexplicably intimidated by his roommate’s dark, confident almost-glare, Ethan hastened to add, “But don’t worry, I’ve found a replacement roommate already. My friend, Andy, is going to finish out the lease for me.”
“Okay…” Tragan agreed slowly. “So is Andy gonna be able to cover the rent each month?”
“Absolutely,” Ethan replied with a certain nod, “that would never be an issue. Andy is very responsible.”
“He’s not going to be selling drugs out of the apartment, right? That happened to a friend of mine once.”
“Of course not,” Ethan said, mildly offended. Jeez, he had said that Andy was a friend. “Trust me, Andy’s fine. No drama, no criminal record--you won’t have any problems.”
After what appeared to be a thoughtful moment, Tragan shrugged. “All right, cool. As long as his rent’s paid each month, we should be good. By the way, when’s all this happening again?” he said as he returned his attention to the TV and hit “play.”
“Two weeks.” Then, feeling compelled to sell the idea, Ethan added, “I know it’s short notice, but Andy will be an easy roommate. However, there is something you should know--”
“Fuck,” Tragan whispered and angrily shook his controller. “Damn it…” he was murmuring to himself, as Ethan’s eyes drifted over to the screen. The action figure with a “T” on his chest was backed into a corner, animated machine guns pointed at him.
“Anyway,” Ethan said, hoping to gain Tragan’s attention again. “As I was saying, see, Andy’s family is originally from Boston. We’ve known each other for years--”
Tragan interjected to assure him, “Hey, if the guy’s a friend of yours and you’re vouching for him, I’m sure he’s fine. We’ve never had any problems, right?”
“Well, no,” Ethan admitted. It was technically true, he supposed, but still…
Just then Tragan’s phone started buzzing. He tossed the controller aside and grabbed his cell off the coffee table. “Sorry, hang on a second,” he told Ethan, then answered his phone with his usual gruff “Yeah.”
Feeling a bit edgy, Ethan waited.
“You’re downstairs? All right, I’ll be down in a second.” No doubt one of Tragan’s annoying friends. Ethan also wouldn’t miss the sight of them sprawled all over the living room. “Hey, do you assholes have money for the tolls this time?” Tragan added with a laugh as he rose from the couch.
Tolls--of course. When they weren’t dominating the apartment, Tragan’s friends liked to go to Wallets, a casino just over the Connecticut/Massachusetts border. From Ethan’s understanding, Wallets was quite a bit smaller than Foxwoods, but apparently just as addictive (at least to some people).
Now Tragan slipped his phone in his back pocket, as he passed Ethan and headed toward the door. Snapping up his jacket from the entry way floor, he looked over and said, “By the way, congratulations on the grad school thing.”
“Thank you. My flight to London is in fifteen days.”
“Wow, you’re gonna be all packed up by then?” he added conversationally.
“I’m hiring a professional crew to help and having several things put in storage. Of course I’m just going to leave the bed there for Andy. And I still have a ton of details to take care of, so I’ll be in and out a lot until I leave.”
Tragan nodded. “Okay, cool. Listen, if I don’t see you…” He surprised Ethan by walking a few steps toward him and extending his hand. “Good luck out there, buddy. Nice living with you.”
“Uh, you, too,” Ethan managed, surprised by the gesture. The handshake was brief but casual as though they were friends. As Tragan turned back toward the door, Ethan blurted: “Wait. Real quick, about Andy…”
Tragan looked back, raised his brows, waiting. “Yeah?”
Suddenly Ethan hesitated, now reconsidering his initial idea. Why tell Tragan about Andy, after all? Come to think of it, it might backfire. What if Tragan said no? What if he had a problem with it?
No, Ethan wouldn’t correct Tragan’s assumption--wouldn’t mention that Andy was actually a girl. The next few months were too important to her. Besides, he had meant everything he’d just said. Andy really was responsible. Undoubtedly she would be a perfect roommate. Why give Tragan a reason to say no?
Though he could be self-absorbed and immature, Ethan’s roommate wasn’t some horrible person. And he’d never seemed particularly combative. Surely Tragan would treat Andy with the same apathy he’d shown Ethan during their stint as roommates. Since Andy had her own friends, her own life, she wouldn’t require more than that.
“Uh, can I give Andy the keys before I go?” Ethan said, keeping the rest to himself.
“Sure,” Tragan replied, shoving his coat on. Then his phone started buzzing again. “Yeah,” he said once he brought it to his ear, and flipped Ethan a careless wave on his way out the door.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later
“The thing you should know about Tragan is…he’s kind of an ass.”
“Oh, no,” Andy said cautiously. “How so exactly?” If Ethan was referring to a run-of-the-mill social ineptitude, she could deal with that. But if he was some overgrown frat boy, she’d have to back out of this arrangement right now. She’d graduated college three months ago and already had no desire to relive the annoying parts of it; frat boys qualified.
“No, I suppose he’s all right,” Ethan corrected. “Maybe I’m exaggerating.” He buttoned up his coat as the wind picked up. It was early March in Boston, which meant the air had graduated from freezing cold to pleasantly chilling--at least if you were a native. Now Andy rubbed her hands over her arms to warm up, as her blond hair flew over her shoulder with the wind.
“Damn, I always forget a ponytail holder,” she remarked.
The T stop was unusually deserted today. Soon the train would come and Ethan would be on his way to the airport, and Andy would cut across Beacon Street to Trader Joe’s, where she’d shop until her boyfriend, Brad, came to pick her up. “So what’s so bad about the guy?” Andy asked, honestly more curious than concerned. She highly doubted Ethan would have suggested she take over his lease if he thought she’d hate living there.
After hoisting one of his carry-on bags onto his shoulder, Ethan straightened his glasses on his nose. “Okay, Tragan’s basically a decent guy. Live and let live--I doubt he’ll bother you, per se.”
“But?” she probed.
“He’s not the most refined guy in the world. Let’s put it that way.”
“So he’s a slob?” Andy guessed.
“Not that bad, I guess, but not neat, either.” Andy reserved comment, because coming from Ethan, who was somewhere between fastidious and OCD, the critique was hard to take too seriously. “And he’s pretty self-centered,” Ethan went on. “You know, all about himself and his friends. Also, he has a car, but don’t expect him to offer rides.”
Though Andy nodded along, she didn’t consider any of this a red flag so far. After all she wasn’t taking over Ethan’s lease to make friends. It was a short-term housing solution that was conveniently near the hospital. “What does he do for a living? Just out of curiosity.”
“He works in constructi
on. I have to say, that was one good thing about living with him--he’s not a deadbeat. He’ll pay his own way 100 percent. But he’s not going to come in and ask what’s new in your life. And don’t expect any intellectual conversations.”
“Ethan…” Andy muttered, slanting him a disapproving look. “Don’t be such a snob.”
Defensively, he held up his hands. “I’m not! I’m just trying to give you the full picture.”
“Fine, well, I’ll get my intellectual conversations on the streets,” she joked, and Ethan made a familiar self-effacing grimace. A soft emotion touched Andy’s heart then. Even though Ethan could be rigid and a bit socially awkward, he was a sweet guy. She’d known him for almost ten years now, because their parents were long-time friends. “Basically it sounds like we’ll stay out of each other’s way,” Andy added, shivering as the wind kicked up again.
“Unless you want to use the living room,” Ethan blurted. “His friends are over a lot, either playing videogames or watching sports obsessively. So I wouldn’t want you to count on any girl-talk bonding sessions after a long day. But then, I suppose you have Brad for that.”
Andy half-grinned at the acerbic, though meaningless dig at her boyfriend. “I’m not sure Brad would find that funny,” she noted. Ethan’s only response was a smirk. She knew Ethan wasn’t a fan of Brad’s, but in truth, he barely knew him. Though Brad had been Andy’s boyfriend for two years, the two men didn’t cross paths much. Nevertheless, Ethan was black-and-white when it came to ethics, and he could never get on board with the idea that Brad had been Andy’s doctor, however briefly. For a short while, he’d even referred to Brad as a “Ken doll”--apparently too perfectly blonde and handsome to be an acceptable mate--until Andy put a firm stop to that.
Now she switched gears, focusing again on her new roommate. “By the way, how old is Tragan anyway?”
“He’s our age. Twenty-three, I think,” Ethan said, then dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver ring with two keys dangling from it. “Before I forget, here you go. The smaller one is the mail key.” When he dropped the set in her hand, he shook his head in exaggerated bafflement. “Why do you wear those? They’re totally impractical.”