Page 14 of A Roommate for Ronny

“No regrets?” I asked.

“Not a single one.” He kissed my forehead. “I will regret not going back to sleep, though.”

“Same.”

We curled into each other’s arms. I didn’t know which one of us fell asleep first, but the next thing I knew, it was nearly lunchtime.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“Let’s shower first, and then we can figure out food.”

“Together?”

He rubbed his cheek against mine. “I like the sound of that.”

As fabulous as the apartment setup was, the shower was not ideal for two people doing anything other than standing still and not moving. But we managed to get cleaned off, and I put on my imaginary list for my future Realtor of things I wanted in a home, decent-sized shower.

There were things to make eggs and toast, but instead, we had leftover baked spaghetti, which surprisingly tasted even better than it had when we first ate it during our midnight snack/dinner. Certain things had priorities when he came home, and eating hadn’t been one of them.

There were questions I needed to ask, and all of them felt like pushing too much too soon. But despite that, they couldn’t wait.

“So you’re back now. Like for good? You’re not leaving again?”

“For good? Don’t know. Depends on if I get another job.” He scooped up another serving of spaghetti.

“Does that mean now that my job’s done, that I need to—”

He shook his head vehemently. “No. Don’t move out.”

Jones had already told me he had an open-door policy if I ever needed to come back, and I knew that one of the residents here had just found their true love and was moving soon. It wasn’t that I’d be homeless. Still, I didn’t want to leave. This was home, despite the circumstances. It was difficult to figure out why I felt that was true to my core, but I did.

“What if I get a gig next week and you already have an apartment? Who would be able to watch Bosco?”

My heart sank. We hadn’t promised each other forever, or even tomorrow, but I’d convinced myself he felt the connection as deeply as I did.

“So it’s about the cat?” I mumbled, more to myself than him. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t owe me anything. Technically, he was one of my bosses.

He grabbed my hand. “It’s not like that, Brach. Look at me.”

I did.

“There’s some things you probably need to know about me.”

“Is it that you’re like the other people who work here?” That had the conversation making more sense. Did he think turning into an animal was a game changer?

Or once again, I was making excuses for an alpha because I liked him.

“You mean good-looking and talented?” He winked.

“I meant, sometimes a little furry.” I didn’t want to come out and fully say I thought he was a shifter. I assumed he knew about them, but that was all it was—an assumption. This way, I could brush it off, pretending I thought he was into a specific kink if he was clueless about them. It felt like it wasn’t my personal information to give.

“Oh, you’re asking if I’m a shifter?”

Phew. No awkward kink conversation needed. I nodded.

“I am.”

“What kind? Like a lion, tiger, a dragon?” Now, that he’d said it openly, I had a million and five questions.