Page 14 of The Roommate Subtext

“Stop it.” Cora grabbed her beer again and took another swig. “What about you? What about that guy you’re living with? When do I get to meet him?” Her quick questions held a hint of desperation.

“You’re not changing the subject on me.” Maggie had never seen Cora blush over someone before. She’d had one or two girlfriends, and a couple of boyfriends, but no one serious. Cora’s passion had always been her education and her career. Maggie had figured she might not want a relationship at all. But here was Cora, blushing over some girl, and Maggie had to put another tick mark in the column of things she had gotten wrong about her sister.

Cora sighed the long-suffering sigh of the aggrieved younger sibling. “She’s nice, and I like her, and I asked her out for dinner tomorrow. And that’s all you get.”

“Oh, come on!” Maggie leaned in. “Can I meet her?”

Cora winced. “We haven’t even gone out yet. Let me see if there’s anything there, OK?”

Maggie held up her hands in a peace gesture. “OK, fair.”

“Back to you.” Cora leaned in. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The door buzzer blissfully saved Maggie from that conversation, and by the time they got settled to eat, Cora had forgotten her line of questioning or had chosen to let the subject drop. Maggie got her talking about a show they’d both been following and was saved from further discussion of her love life. What was she supposed to say? Her most exciting encounter in recent memory had been with an anonymous stranger she was supposed to be investigating for an exposé article, and they hadn’t even done anything together? She cringed.

No. She wasn’t going to talk to Cora about the Scarlet Pimpernel, and she also wasn’t going to share information about any forensic accountants or financial investigations. Her sister had enough on her mind.

Besides, some things were better not shared.

She got through the evening without any of her forbidden topics coming to the surface. She hated thinking of her time with Cora as “getting through the evening,” and she hated lying to Cora even more, but she’d made peace with the decision. Ever since their parents’ death, she’d done what she could to protect Cora from whatever she could. And if that meant keeping the truth from her, then Maggie would do so, and she would live with her guilt.

Maggie loved getting into a good writing flow. She was in her favorite spot on the couch, basking in the ample sunlight like a contented cat, deeply focused on the task at hand. She had finished two articles, and because she was terrible at turning down work, she’d also picked up a book edit with a tight turnaround deadline. That had consumed most of her work time over the last few days, but she was hoping to finish by Friday and not have to carry it over into the weekend. She was distantly aware of Blake, but he didn’t bother her.

She and Blake had gotten used to each other’s routines over their two months together. She’d never had a roommate so easy to get along with. Maybe they were still in the honeymoon period, but she generally preferred him around versus absent; an unending surprise. He wasn’t silent: he puttered around, humming to himself and sometimes quietly murmuring to the plants when he thought she wasn’t listening. Usually, the plants in his bedroom got the most conversation, probably because of the sense of privacy. With walls as thin as theirs, though, there wasn’t as much privacy as either of them liked to believe.

If Blake had heard her last weekend, he hadn’t said anything, and she wasn’t going to mention her own accidental eavesdropping to him. She had enough on her mind.

Maggie was deep in thought when a hand waved in front of her face and made her jump.

“Shit, Blake.” She blinked to refocus from the screen. “What was that all about?”

“I’ve been calling your name.” He took a step back, out of her space, looking down at where she sat on the couch. This was a surprisingly sexy angle, making him look imposing in a good way. “I’m headed to the garden today.”

The old T-shirt stretched across his chest looked well-worn and soft, and he’d paired it with some Carhartt heavy duty work pants, completing the image of Guy Headed to Work Outside.

“Today’s a garden day, not a grant writing day?” Sometimes “heading to the garden” for Blake meant actual gardening, and sometimes it meant writing at the PlantSeed offices instead of writing from home. While the community garden was clearly one of Blake’s favorite aspects of his job, she’d come to realize that was only a fraction of what the nonprofit handled, and not even one of Blake’s main responsibilities. Mostly, he spent his work time staring at his laptop with a puzzled line between his brows that she refused to think of as adorable, typing away at grant proposals and fundraising letters.

“Some gardening and some writing today, I think.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The board meeting’s coming up, and I need to finish my report. Andrew will be there to help.”

She smiled. “Bring me home some tikka masala?”

Blake made a big show of rolling his eyes. “I might be back late.”

“Don’t work too hard. It’s bad for you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, though, the Pimpernel came to mind. If Blake was out late, then she’d have the apartment to herself for whatever private time she might enjoy with her new online research subject. She’d spent the last few days wondering how soon was too soon to contact him again. Here it was Wednesday and no word. Maybe she’d message him tonight.

Blake rubbed the perpetual stubble on his chin. “How about this: I’ll message you when I have a time frame. If you get hungry before then, feed yourself, like the adult you are.”

Maggie waved him off. “Fine, fine. Go have fun at work.”

“You too.”

After he left, she pushed through the last of the editing, stopping for a late lunch when she finally reached a stopping point. Then, she switched gears to research. She’d done some noodling around on the internet over the last couple of days, seeing what she could find on the Scarlet Pimpernel. There wasn’t much. She’d left her conversation with Chauvel thinking the Pimpernel was a notorious online figure with a scandalous reputation and scads of followers, but he seemed to be just a guy with a blog. His books were ranked high in his categories for sales, but they weren’t bestsellers. They had great reviews, but not enough to indicate a massive following.

He was hardly worth the money Chauvel wanted to pay her to write this article.

Maggie continued her search, settling back in on the couch and picking up where she’d left off. She had found a reference to the Pimpernel on Reddit in a thread about kink resources in the Boston area.

Check out the Scarlet Pimpernel’s website—he’s a local guy, has a page about upcoming events in the area.