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“For the same rate as that shitty apartment in town?”
“Yes.”
She says nothing but turns back to look at the house. I stand next to her quietly until she whispers, “It’s like inThe Holiday.”
“What?”
“You know, the movie with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. I guess, in this scenario, I’m Kate Winslet discovering the house she’s swapped for in LA.”
“Come on, Kate,” I say. “I’ll show you your room.”
Sara follows, gaping at everything. I don’t bother with a tour, figuring she’ll want to look more thoroughly tomorrow, but for now, the bedroom is the most important part.
“Here’s your room,” I say, pushing the door open. Like every room in the house, it’s clean, the bed freshly made for guests. I’m not sure who Marcus expected to sleep in these rooms when he booked the house for me—my bandmates?—but I’m glad to have the space.
“The bathroom is in here.” I point at the cracked-open door on the side wall.
“This is my room?” Sara asks, pointing at her feet, which are barely inside the door frame.
“Yes.”
“This is where I’m sleeping tonight?”
“Yes. Would you like to take a flying leap onto the bed?”
She cuts her eyes at me. “So you have seen it?” I can see the wheels turning in her head, and I can tell that she wants to. But she shakes her head. “No, I’m good.”
“All right then. Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can get the rest sorted out.”
The door is nearly closed when Sara whirls toward me. “Wait. Chris?”
“Yes?” I say, pausing.
“Danke.” Her pronunciation is atrocious, but she tries, and the grin that accompanies her words makes up for it.
I nod. “Bitte.”
The door clicks closed behind me, and I stand in the hall for a moment, waiting until I hear a girlish squeal and thefoomphof a belly flop onto the bed.
3
Sara
This might bethe best bed I’ve ever slept on. Unlike Kate Winslet, though, I’m already used to the time difference, and I don’t need any blackout curtains—when I wake up, chipper and ready to start my day, it’s still dark outside.
Yesterday, when I’d met my landlord, and he’d shown me the cottage I’d rented, I had deflated like a sad balloon. But now, in this beautiful guest bedroom, things are looking way, way up, and my spirits lift too.
I check my messages. After Chris had left me to settle in, I’d messaged Zoe.
Sara
Change of plans for my accommodations. Here’s my new address.
I haven’t gotten a response from her yet.
I have new messages from my girlfriends. We’d texted last night through the ride to Chris’s house, and I had told them briefly about my new room.
There are tassels and decorative pillows, and as I pointed out to my friends, Chris hadn’t seemed like the fancy duvet kind of guy.
