Even though we lived in town, I was only too happy to move into the dorms at UL, telling my parents I wanted the authentic college experience.
But dorms don’t feel like home either.
Not like what home felt like those first few months with Josh. Before things got hard.
And I’m guessing that’s about where my expectations are now.
Not like living with Josh before the hard times.
But like living in the dorms.
Except my roommate isn’t Jacie Elroy, the bio major who I’m pretty sure stole my denim jacket.
It’s Zach Rousseau.
The lawyer who’s staring at me now like I’ve just landed from Mars.
“Fine,” I concede, coming back to the discussion. “If you don’t want to swap, that’s fine. But I want you to promise me something.” I sharpen my gaze at him. He glares back like only Zach Rousseau can.
“What’s that?” He crosses his arms over his chest, somehow filling the already tight space even more.
I swallow.
“I-If you decide later that you want to swap—maybe not every week but every month or three months, you just have to tell me,” I say, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I don’t want you to resent me.”
His glare softens. Just a little.
“I don’t think you’re taking advantage—”
Now I cross my arms over my chest. “Just promise me.”
He rolls his eyes, but maybe he’s just a little bit amused too. “Okay. Fine. I promise.”
“And you’ll take half the drawers and half the closet space,” I tack on.
“I don’t need—” The look I give him must be enough because he stops himself. Licks his lips and nods. “And half the drawers and closet space.”
We don’t shake on it. We just go back to putting our stuff away. And it really isn’t that much stuff. Moving into the cabins had us paring down our belongings to begin with, and most of the stuff we kept that was too big for the cabins is in storage in the big shed. So moving in doesn’t take all that long.
Which is good because I hit the home goods section of Target pretty hard yesterday in order to outfit our cabins for would-be glampers. And I’m itching to set up those spaces and stage some photos for all the sites where we’ll list them. We also bought a new living room set and dining table for the lodge on sale at Rooms To Go. So instead of looking like a college student’s basement apartment, it might actually look like a resort’s lodge.
It may look like I’m throwing myself into this—getting Camp Bliss ready for overnight guests—and there’s definitely some truth to that, but I’ve had two more sessions with Trina, and I’m not avoiding my feelings. The work on the cabins and the lodge just feels right.
Not to mention it’s a positive step to counteract some of the damage Josh did to us. Converting the cabins into rentals feels like something I can control. Something that will serve me—and Zach—pretty soon. And for the long haul.
Trina agrees that it’s a good project to put my energy into—as long as I’m still allowing myself to feel.
Boy, am I.
Zach and I have set the fencing project on hold for two reasons. One: it’s still so damn hot, we don’t need to put ourselves in the hospital. Two: Now that we’re in this boat that’s taking on water, other tasks have priority. We’ve decided the fencing can wait until the fall.
While I’ve been focused on the cabins, Zach is revisiting our construction plans for changing rooms and restrooms. Looking at different designs. Researching materials costs. Calling contractors.
Which is a good thing.
Because at any given moment, I could be talking to Josh.
Not therealJosh.
