Page 11 of The Other Room

“Oh.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his eyes fixated on my wood floor. “Yeah. No, you’re right. It was a stupid idea. I’m sorry I dropped in on you. I’ll catch you later, Jo.”

As he started to turn toward the door, shoulders slumped like the weight of the world pushed them down, that nagging guilt wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed. Hard.

Shit.

“Okay. Wait,” I said, wishing the words would stop falling out of my mouth. Him. Here. With me. That was a terrible idea. Not only did I not want a roommate, but having the man who I no longer trusted sharing this tiny space was a recipe for disaster. But when he turned back, the light returning to his eyes, I heaved a sigh. “Fine. You can stay. But...” I raised my hand. “Just until you find somewhere else more permanent.”

“Really?” His mocha eyes flickered even brighter. “Seriously? I can stay?”

“For a little while,” I reminded him. “Just until you can go somewhere else. I may hate your guts, but even I’m not a big enough asshole to make you sleep in your truck when I have an empty bedroom.”

Clutching his hands to his heart, he stepped toward me. “You are not going to regret this, Jo. I swear to you that I’m going to be the best roommate ever!”

“Yeah, well you’re already off to a bad start. But you’re paying rent. I may have inherited this place mortgage free, but property taxes for waterfront property in Door County are a bitch.”

“Done. I’ll pay them.”

“And you can help me fix up this place. It needs a lot of work.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Martha Stewart will be begging to live here when I’m done with it.”

Pursing my lips, I sucked on my cheek while I started compiling a list of ground rules in my mind.

Awkward silence settled between us. No longer were we the two old friends who never ran out of things to talk about, but instead it felt like we were two strangers struggling to find even an inch of common ground to stand on. The seconds ticked by as we shifted our gazes to anywhere but each other.

“So.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels.

I sucked the air through my teeth. “So.”

More awkward silence. More shifting gazes. More of that sense of regret growing like a weed in my gut.

“Is this my room then?” He pointed a thumb toward the door opposite my bedroom.

“Yep.” I nodded, then followed him in.

“This really is a tiny cabin. Just the two bedrooms, living room with the kitchenette, and the bathroom?”

“Yep,” I answered, sticking with my one-word responses, more words ceasing to form as I let Matt’s presence settle over me. Why did I have to do all those Bernies last night? If I’d have just grabbed my tips and gone home, I never would have seen those soulful eyes begging me for a place to stay. That tequila wouldn’t have clouded my judgement and made me wager something as significant as a room in my house. Ugh. No more Bernies for this girl.

He slid his hand along the wooden logs that comprised the walls of this old cabin. “Are you staying here all winter?”

“Yep.”

“These are going to need a little insulation repair, so you don’t freeze to death. See the cracks here?”

I followed his finger along the gaps between the logs I hadn’t even noticed before.

“I can chink or caulk the walls and really help hold the heat in this winter. You’ll save a lot on heating costs and it won’t get so drafty.”

“Wow. Thanks,” I said, still trying to process the fact that Matt, who I’d sworn never to speak to again, was marching around my cabin. Or as of a few minutes ago, our cabin.

“The windows could use some updating, but I can handle that.” He stepped around me and headed back out into the small living room. “I can refinish the floors and really bring out the natural beauty of the wood, and a pellet stove could fit right here.” He pointed to the vacant spot on the exterior wall. “It will heat this whole place without any issue and save you a ton of money in the winter.”

Speechless over his remodeling ideas, I followed him to the other side of the room to the bathroom. When he pushed open the door and looked inside, his face dropped.

“Whoa. This is... wow. This is a gut job.” Laughing, he poked at the shower stall that was little more than a thin plastic shell, then looked at the rusted old sink and the toilet that sat at an angle. “I’m surprised there isn’t like a wooden barrel with a chain for the shower and a hole in the ground for a toilet. In fact, that may be an upgrade.”

His laughter bounced off the walls of my bathroom, and I tried not to let it wear me down any more than that smile of his did when he aimed it at me. Charming. Infectious. Warm. All the things I adored about the Matt I used to know. The one who looked and sounded a hell of a lot like the one who was beaming at me right now.