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The sunroom is undoubtedly my favorite room in the entire house. It faces south, so it gets full sun pretty much all day. The exterior walls are floor-to-ceiling glass, and to take advantage of all this sunlight, I’ve filled the room over the years with plants of all shapes and sizes—from potted trees that tower overhead to lush ferns and brightly-colored tropical flowers. The sound of water splashing in the three-tiered stone water fountain distracts me fromher.
This room is essentially a greenhouse with a warm, balmy climate all year around. It’s my happy place. This is where I come when life gets to be too much.
This morning, I have the room to myself so I stretch out on the comfy lounger and start reading. But I’m not alone for long.
Jason walks in and whistles. “Whoa,” he says as his gaze sweeps the room. “Impressive.” Then he looks at me. “Margaret told me I’d probably find you here.” He heads for the water fountain and peers inside. “What, no coins?”
I laugh. “No, sadly it’s not a magic fountain. Believe me, I wish it was.”
Jason shoves his hands into his front pockets as he turns to me. “Any plans today?”
“Nope. I’m just going to read, and then I’m going to start writing my English paper.”
He nods. “If you don’t think you’ll need me for the next hour or two, I thought I’d take the opportunity to run some errands.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Thanks. Call if you need me. I won’t be far away.”
“Where are you going? Unless it’s something personal. I don’t want to intrude on your privacy.”
“You’re not intruding. I’m just gonna stop by my apartment to collect my mail and pick up a few things I need. Maybe do a little shopping while I’m out.” He looks down at his worn, faded jeans and T-shirt. “I could probably use some new clothes.”
“You look great—I mean, you don’t need to dress up for me.” Suddenly, I’m fascinated by the idea of his private life. I’d love to see his apartment. “I could do my homework later. Would you mind if I tagged along?”
He doesn’t want you tagging along like an annoying brat.
“You’re welcome to come,” he says. “You’ll probably be bored out of your mind, though.”
“I’d love to see your apartment.”
He motions toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Before we leave, Jason runs up to his room to get his gun. Then we leave the house through the rear door.
He digs his keys out of his front pocket. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to fill up the gas tank.”
“Sure.” I’m trying to act nonchalant, but the truth is I’m excited to be going with him to run errands. It’s such a small thing, but it gives us a chance to hang out like friends would. And I love riding in the Challenger. It’s such a guy car.
We stop at the nearest gas station, and I watch from inside the car as he pumps gas. I realize I know very little about his personal life. Does he have a girlfriend? Or good grief, is he married? What about his family? Do they live nearby?
He’s probably married, idiot.
No, he’s not. He would have told me.
Why would he tell you anything? Look at him. Of course he’s married.
After filling the tank, we’re off again.
“You’re not married, are you?” The question pops out of my mouth, and my cheeks flush. I’m horrified at the idea, because if he’s married but living with me—practically babysitting me—that’s got to be awful for his wife. And for him.
He laughs as he pulls out into traffic. “No. I’m not married.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nope. I’m single. I’m not even seeing anyone right now. It’s kind of hard to date with my schedule.”
It’s your fault he has no personal life.
