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He fishes his phone from his pocket with the hand I'm not gripping onto like a lunatic and starts tapping away.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding a hotel to stay at. Then I'll book an Uber and get my bags out of your car."
"No." I tug on his arm, drawing him closer to me.
He blinks at me, looking confused. "Which part are you saying no to?"
My fingers slide over his hand holding the phone. "All of it."
"I don't under—"
"Stay with me. At the shelter. The house is plenty big. Take all the time you need to regroup. Save your money for lawyers, not hotel rooms."
"That's very kind of you to offer…"
Awww, he thinks I'm offering. That I'll take no for an answer.
"I insist." I lower my voice, and whether he's aware of it or not, his pupils dilate.
"Are—are you sure?"
"Of course."
It'll make my stalking so much easier. Means I won't have to go over to Bishop and Fulton's each week for dinner to covertly snap a photo of the staff schedule Fulton pins to the fridge to know when you'll be working.
"Okay. Thank you. Wow. I'll do everything I can to get this sorted out quickly so I can get out of your hair. You won't even know I'm there."
My gaze sweeps over his body one more time. "Take all the time you need."
LOCKY
They say you only really get to know a person when you live with them. But yeah, I'm not so sure how true that is.
It's been exactly one week since Roman invited me to stay with him, and I'm incredibly grateful that he did. I'm a vet, and the thought of sinking my entirely-okay-but-not-anything-wow wage into a hotel room while trying to save up for the lawyer I'm going to need isn't appealing.
But the thing is, in the seven days I've been here, I think I've seen Roman for a grand total of twenty minutes. Give or take. I could be rounding up.
Even though I was the one who said he wouldn't even know I was here, it's turned out that the opposite is true.
I've been on day shifts this past week, relatively normal hours in vet land, working from ten to six.
Roman's already gone by the time I get up.
But I'm a light sleeper, and even though he's trying to walk around the old house quietly, the wooden floors start creaking before dawn. Despite not starting at the hardware store until nine, he spends the first few hours of the day at Bishop's shelter, tending to the animals and working his way through the never-ending maintenance to-do list.
In the evenings, he's back at it in the shelter. He'll pop his head in for a few minutes after I get back. We exchange a few words, then he's out the door again to clean up, check in on the animals, and get the place in shape for the following day.
Even once he comes back, and we've retreated to our rooms, I hear him sneaking out of the house again. He usually comes back around twenty minutes later. I have no idea where he goes or what he does. Maybe he's a closet smoker?
Who knows?
And that's just it. I barely know anything about the guy.
Well that is changing tonight.
I teed it up with him yesterday. We've cleared our schedules, and I am making us a Friday night dinner.
