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“Do you want to see the rest of my house?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They went back in and he showed her the two average-sized spare bedrooms that looked to have dust on the floors. She’d bet he hadn’t been in them more than once since he moved. The hall bath was a decent size and probably updated at the same time as his kitchen. It was clean too, but he most likely didn’t use it either.
His room had no character, but it fit him too. “You’ve got a nice big bed,” she said.
“I like having space. Not that Sammie gives it to me.” He moved quickly to pull the comforter up. It seemed to her he got out of bed and tossed it back but didn’t really make the bed. Again more endearing than anything.
“Your bath in here?” she asked, popping her head in. It wasn’t big but fit the rest of the size of the house. There was a stand-up shower, double vanity and toilet with a small linen closet by the looks of it.
“It’s tight in here, I know. But it’s only me,” he said. “My place is boring. I guess it’s a good representation of me, like yours is of you.”
Beingthe idiot that he was, Brent hadn’t figured that Vivian might want to see his house today and he hadn’t cleaned or even straightened up.
He wasn’t a slob like his mother liked to tell him, but he wasn’t a neat freak.
There were some empty bottles in places but not the end of the world. Lots of dust in the spare bedrooms. The more he thought of it, that might be the first time he’d opened the doors since he moved in. He supposed he should go in there and sweep or open a window for air this week.
His bed wasn’t made, and there was a dirty towel hanging over the shower door that he tossed there this morning.
“Not everyone spends time decorating their house. It’s a personal preference,” she said.
“I’m not much into it,” he said.
He was still trying to gather his wits from his call. Not many knew he had that phone, which was why he kept it in his desk.
It didn’t ring often, but if it did, that meant it was private and important. If he wasn’t around to answer it, a message would be left with a text sent to his personal phone so that he’d know to get it ASAP.
Vivian’s comment about it being a Batman phone was funny and maybe slightly accurate.
No, he didn’t have to jump and do work when that happened most times. But he would have a USB drive delivered tomorrow that he’d have to decode and analyze before anything else. He didn’t ask questions and wouldn’t. It was always better that way.
Sammie came running into the room and dove on the bed, hopping around like she did before bedtime each night. “And this is why you didn’t want her staying the night at my place, I see,” she said.
“Exactly. Your stuff is much nicer than mine is.”
“She’s a puppy. She means well.”
“She does. All in all, she’s good. No accidents anymore, but I think that is partially because I’m watching her enough and know the signs.”
“You’re a good daddy,” she said, reaching her hand out and running it down his arm.
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d never thought of settling down and having kids. He hadn’t thought he wouldn’t either. It was one of those things that never crossed his mind and he didn’t plan on it.
“A dog is different than a child.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “Not everyone has good parental instincts.”
Her voice changed and her arm dropped away. There was something going on, he knew. He figured it had to do with her mother committing suicide but wondered if it had to do with her father that she never spoke of either.
He was afraid to ask and didn’t want to ruin the day they had.
His family could be overbearing, but they meant well. He always knew that.
And that Vivian figured out that he wasn’t comfortable being someone he wasn’t told him that maybe she’d felt that way a time or two in her life too.
Today wasn’t the day to find out though.
