The Temporary Roomie by Sarah Adams

Drew opens my passenger side door and looks down at me and the four packages of Oreos in my lap.

“You know, on second thought, you should probably be heading home. I bet your patients are really missing you today—like they are going to walk into their appointments and expect to find their favorite Dr. Marshall and then spot whichever crusty old doctor is covering for you—”

“Susan.”

“—and then they are going to be so peeved at you for taking a little vacation instead of caring about the healthy birth of their child and—”

Drew leans inside to unbuckle my seatbelt. “Come on.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out, nearly making my Oreos spill to the ground before I manage to gather them up in my arms like a bundle of little Oreo babies. A caveman, this one.

“Do you always get your way?” I ask, looking up at him with a saucy expression.

“Nearly always, yes.”

I growl. “It’s the jaw. It’s hard to say no to. Hey, have you ever thought about acting? I bet you’d be so good playing Superman in a movie. Come on, let’s hop in the car and take a quick trip to LA to get you signed up for some action flicks.”

Drew is dragging me toward the front door of my grandaddy’s house. “Sure thing, let’s just make a quick stop inside first.”

WHY ARE MY FOOTBRAKES NOT WORKING?!

“Wait! Drew, Drew, Drew, Drew,” I say, trying to pull my hand from his so I can sprint back toward the car and somehow take him with me.

He chuckles and turns around. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’re about to go inside my childhood house.”

“So?” He’s so cute when he’s exasperated with me.

“So…this is my house. All my secrets are in there…all my memories. I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m not great at being vulnerable.”

He gives a mocking gasp. “No.”

I smack his arm. “I kind of feel like I’ve already met my vulnerability quota for the day by telling you about Jonathan and my parents.”

The teasing leaves Drew’s eyes, and he steps closer to cradle my face in his hands and kiss my lips. It ends too quickly and I’m teetering forward for more when he says, “I get it, Jessie. So what do you want me to do?”

“Maybe you could just go get a hotel, and then Grandaddy and I could meet you for dinner?”

“Okay.”

“Really?” I say, a little skeptical that he gave in so easily. I expected at least a little bit of a fight.

He grins and kisses me again before dropping his hands to his sides. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll find a hotel and—hey.” His brows pinch together, and he looks over my shoulder. “Is that guy breaking into that house?”

“What?!” I spin around and peer through the neighborhood, but I don’t see anything. “Where? I don’t see anyone.”

I turn back to find Drew pressing the doorbell with a mischievous slanted smile and lifted brow. “I’m not going to a hotel. I’m staying here. With you. Get over it.” I want to be angry, but when he holds out his hand for me to take, my body moves to him like a magnet and I grip it in mine.

It occurs to me that the same reasons I hated Drew in the beginning are the reasons I’ve fallen for him now. He’s heavy-handed. He’s bossy. He won’t back down from me—and he’s exactly what I need and want.

Drew holds me tight, wrapping his hand around my waist like even if I tried to dart away, he wouldn’t let me. We stand united like those annoying June bugs in Florida as the front door opens and I see my grandaddy’s smiling face.

I put my hand on Drew’s chest. “Grandaddy, meet my boyfriend, Drew.”

* * *

I walk back into the living room and hand Grandaddy a fresh cup of coffee I brewed for him. He smiles up at me and pats the back of my hand, sending me spiraling through thousands of memories.

Everything about this house is familiar and exactly the same as the day I left at eighteen. The carpet is still an odd shade of brownish-taupe. There’s a small screened-in porch with bright green faux turf carpet and white metal lawn chairs. The walls are wood-paneled and lined with photos of me from birth all the way up to a photo of me standing with a goofy smile and my arms spread wide outside my salon on opening day. I gave Grandaddy the inaugural haircut. There are photos of Grandma sprinkled around too, but since she died when I was little, they are mainly photos of her in her younger days.

The pillows are still navy, and the couch is still that odd brown and yellow plaid with big wooden armrests. There’s not a single updated or trendy thing about this place, and I adore it.

Actually, that’s not true. There is one update: Drew.He’s sitting on the couch, aiming an intense smile up at me.

“So,” Grandaddy says, breaking through my thoughts. “Drew, how do you feel about being pinched?”

“Grandaddy…” I say in way of warning.

Drew’s brow furrows. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing, just an inside joke.” I look down at my mischievous grandaddy. He winks up at me under one bushy eyebrow.

“Has Jessie told you to pinch me or something for standing her up that day? Because, sir, I swear to you, I did not stand her up on purpose. I had an all-night shift and overslept, but I wish more than anything I had brought my phone in to wake—”

“Psh.” Grandaddy interrupts Drew’s adorably nervous explanation and waves him off. “Never would have worked anyway. I’ve known her secret since almost the beginning. Jessie never has been able to pull a fast one over on me. And besides, everything happened the way it needed to. No sense looking back while you’re still moving forward.”

I chuckle and look to Drew. “He’s full of catch phrases. I swear he moonlights writing for fortune cookies.”

Grandaddy wags his finger up at me. “I don’t, but you should be writing all this down. I am very wise.”

When I look to Drew, I see him smiling softly, gaze heavy on my face. He hitches his head, telling me to come sit with him. It’s so weird, having him here with me, having him look at me like that. My heart tells me to sink in and stay a while, but the guards I’ve fashioned around it say, Not so fast.

I do go sit by Drew, though. I try to put a little space between us, but he won’t have it. He tugs on my hand repeatedly until I finally give in and scoot closer. He kisses the side of my temple and wraps his arm around me. I lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in.

Grandaddy’s short chuckle has me looking up at him. He’s shaking his head of white hair with a smile that can only be described as overjoyed. His eyes tell me, This is good, Jessie girl. You deserve this.

“If you kids will excuse me, I have a phone call I need to make.”

No, he doesn’t. For as much as I can’t pull a fast one over on him, he can’t pull any on me either. He’s trying to give us a moment alone, and honestly, I’m grateful for it.

Once my grandaddy disappears down the hall, I look up at Drew. “Hey. So. Do you remember that day you took me back to the salon when Lucy had to go help Levi?”

He hums and lifts my hand to kiss my wrist.

“Well, you were right when you guessed that there was more to my original hate for you than I was letting on.”

He tenses a bit, setting our intertwined fingers down and turning those sharp eyes to me. “I’m listening.”

“Truth is, I hated you before I ever met you.”

He frowns. “This day is taking a turn I’m not sure I like.”

“Oh, you will, believe me. And I hesitate to tell you because your head is going to grow eighteen sizes.”

“I’m confused.”

I suck in a deep breath then let it out in a whoosh. This is it for me. This is the last straw of secrecy, my last line of defense against Drew, and I’m letting it go. Laying it all on the line. This is me saying, I’m all in.

I clear my throat and force myself to look in his eyes. “Drew, a month before I ever met you, Lucy showed me a picture of you with Levi, and I swear I thought you were the sexiest man I’d ever seen. She told me all about you and what you do for a living. She mentioned you almost every single time we were together and painted the most incredible picture of a man with her words—a man I was immediately attracted to, a man I knew I would fall for at the drop of a hat, and I wanted to avoid that happening at all cost. I knew before I ever met you that you were exactly my type—my dream man in a lot of ways. And so…I decided to hate you, to find anything unappealing about you and grab hold of it so I couldn’t let myself get close to you. By being so horrible to you, I knew I was ensuring you wouldn’t want to get close to me either.” I shrug, feeling my words between us like tangible objects. “I calculated my hatred for you and multiplied it so I could keep you away from me.”

Drew is quiet. So quiet I can hear the clock on the wall ticking. My palms sweat, and those vulnerability hives are starting to prickle my skin. Finally, he shakes his head and then intertwines his fingers in the back of my hair.

“You failed miserably from the start, Oscar. Every sharp quip, every rude jab, every sassy lift of your eyebrow and display of backbone—it all drove me wild. See, when I found out I was going to have a free ticket to act like your fiancé, I had plans.” The way he says plans has my skin erupting in shivers. He dips his head and slowly kisses my mouth, and then he pulls away to whisper, “You were strong and determined, and also exactly my type. I’ve wanted you from day one. I tried telling myself I didn’t—it didn’t work, and I almost crashed Cooper’s truck because I was sexually frustrated by you.”

“What?” I ask on a laugh.

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Point is, your grandaddy is right. No sense in looking back when we are clearly meant to be together from here on out.”

“I’m still terrified.”

“That’s okay. Me too. We just have to take it one day at a time.”

And this is how we spend the rest of the day, in a weird, gloriously happy bubble. Also, I was dead wrong about Drew not liking PDA. The man is obsessed with it. He never lets go of me. If I go in the kitchen, he only releases my hand at the very last minute, so our arms are stretched out dramatically between us like we’re in a slow-motion movie scene.

I show Drew the rest of the house but keep him firmly away from my old room. He playfully pretends to grab the handle, but I give him the look of death, making sure he knows he’s not allowed in there. And he’s not. If he goes in, he will never look at me the same way again.

After lunch, Grandaddy pulls out the old photo album and delightedly shows Drew every embarrassing photo he can find. And there are a lot: the classic naked baby photo, prom when I wore my hair piled up so high on my head I’m surprised it didn’t interfere with air traffic. He tells Drew what I was like as a kid—a firecracker, no surprise there—and describes the time I broke my arm trying to sneak out my window so I could go to the movie I wasn’t allowed to see.

Drew sits at the old dining room table Grandaddy and I shared nearly every breakfast and dinner at together, just the two of us—and now Drew’s there too. I try to hover on the edge, allowing myself to see it without feeling it or holding on too tight, but Drew grabs me and pulls me onto his lap to look at the rest of the photographs. I barely fit, my belly brushing up against the table, and Drew wraps his hand around me so it’s splayed out against my baby bump. He rubs it tenderly and kisses the side of my shoulder. How did I get here? How did this happen? And is it all going to go away when we return to reality?