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“Yes, of course,” she chimes in. “Please know that you are welcome here as long as you need. Caleb and I are just happy to help in any way we can.”
“I appreciate that,” I reply, keeping my gaze trained on her. “Please, let me offer you compensation.”
“Absolutely not,” Briar says, cutting me off with a wave of her hands.
“That’s very kind of you. But I won’t be staying longer than three months. By then, my insurance claim should be settled, and I’ll find a new place.” My tone is emotionless as I let my gaze rake over her face.
She really is beautiful in a remarkable sort of way that might go unnoticed by most. She seems like the type of woman who thrives on blending in. Her hair hangs just past her shoulders in delicate waves with streaks of warm gold with platinum blonde.
Her makeup is subtle. Some blush on her cheeks and a little liner around her glossy lips. She really is pretty.
Just then, a small child bounds out from the backyard. I practically jump when she comes flying toward us. Her tiny feet pitter-patter on the stone-paved driveway before she wraps her arms enthusiastically around Briar’s legs.
“Oh yeah,” Briar says as she strokes the child’s brown hair. “This is our daughter, Abby. Abby, this is our friend, Dean. He’s going to live in the apartment above the garage.”
The little girl smirks up at me bashfully. “Hi,” she mumbles.
I clear my throat. “Hello.”
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that Caleb Goode would have a child. I mean, naturally, he’s in his thirties. He’s married. He lives in suburbia.
Why wouldn’t he have a kid?
And maybe it’s because I literally haven’t been around children since I was one, but I’m not exactly great around kids. I don’t know how to talk to them or how to treat them.
I don’t even know how old this girl is. She could be three or eleven, for all I know.
She’s missing her two bottom front teeth, her hair is pulled into two neat, braided pigtails, and she has a spatter of freckles across her cheeks.
There’s an awkward tension now among us since the little girl has joined us. And I briefly wonder if it’s because I’m not reacting to her the way that I should.
Am I supposed to ask her a question? Am I supposed to be talking to her? Should I shake her hand?
Finally, it’s Briar who breaks the silence.
“Well, why don’t we show you upstairs, and then you can unpack your things?” she says brightly.
I can feel Caleb’s scrutinizing gaze on me as she turns to walk toward the apartment. He’s probably wondering what I’ll do next. Or maybe he’s also questioning why I’m here and why on earth I agreed to this.
The entrance to the apartment upstairs is around the back of the detached garage. There’s a set of black metal stairs with a railing that leads to a small porch and a door to the apartment.
“You’ll have your own key,” Briar says as she opens the door.
I follow her in and notice that the apartment looks larger from the inside than it does from the outside. It’s a basic studio with a bed on the opposite wall and a good amount of shelves framing each side.
There’s a small blue couch in the middle and a mounted TV on the wall to my right. The kitchenette on the left is simple but enough to get me by. I’m not a big cook as it is, but it’s nice to at least have a fridge and a small cooktop.
“The bathroom is over here,” she says as she moves deeper into the apartment, pressing open the bathroom door to reveal a basic sink, toilet, and single shower.
“It’s perfect,” I mutter flatly.
The apartment seems well stocked with blankets, pillows, towels, and things of that sort. And most of it looks new, which means they must have just bought everything in here…for me.
Should I appear more gracious? I never asked for any of this.
“I filled the fridge and the pantry with food to get you by for now. I hope it’s enough, but if you need anything, please let me know,” Briar says in a sweet, singsong tone.
“It’s more than enough,” I reply, without looking her in the eye. My chin is held high, but I can’t seem to meet her gaze as she offers me so much more than I expected. This makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
