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“Besides the fact I’ve been a cock-block for almost the past year that Cruz has wanted to move Alex in, it went well.”
“Looks like we’re all getting what we want out of this arrangement then.”
God, I hope so…
Chapter 36
You’re Taking Responsibility
Ember
I look over the latest MLS listings that Robbie emailed to me and make notes for the Real Estate agent. It’s been two months since we got back from the cruise and I started living with him. Robbie argues that I haven’t officially moved in, since some of my things are still at Cruz’s and I haven’t changed my mailing address. He stopped griping when I promised that all that would be done the moment we found a house.
The first week, Raven called and told me about her experience when she moved in with Declan. She was trying to reassure me things would get better, but when I told her nothing fazed me because I lived with Cruz for so long, she calmed down. The one good thing that came out of the conversation is when I told Robbie about Janie, her cleaning lady. He agreed we needed to hire her, too.
As expected, Cruz and Alex fit right into Robbie’s group of friends. After an awkward first meeting, where Abbi and Harper apologized about fifteen times, Cruz finally told them to ‘fucking move on.’ I was horrified, but Gabe and Jimi slapped him on the back and gave knowing looks. Since that night, we all try to get together at least every week for something. Finn actually brought a girl he was seeing a few times, but she wasn’t long-term material. We haven’t seen her in weeks. Abbi swore she was a replica of Raven, but I couldn’t tell.
Robbie agreed to a party at his house but swore never again when his friends played Xbox until four am and Finn and Tripp stayed over. I had an amazing time, but Robbie rumbled for days. Finally, he admitted it was fun, but he’s possessive of our time together.
With both of us working full-time jobs, plus me having to work every other Saturday, Sunday is dedicated to only us. For the last four weeks, we’ve been viewing houses, but nothing has been right for both of us. At first, I tried to keep my opinions to myself, until he blew his lid.
Right in front of the realtor, he threw me over his shoulder and stormed to the closest bedroom, slamming the door. He slid me down his body and held me tight, pinning my arms at my side until I confessed exactly what I would want in a home.
Since that day, we’ve only looked at open floor plans with large kitchens for entertaining. These were things we both agreed on. He specifically wanted a big yard, which I could care less about. I wanted a spacious master bathroom and walk in closet. Our realtor is certain she’s found the perfect place, which we’re scheduled to see on Sunday.
I walk to the front to wait on my next appointment, and come to a halt when I spot a large man waiting at the counter. His eyes are blank, but a slow grin spreads across his face.
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“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were here.” I notice the bell on the door is slightly unattached. “Can I help you?”
“I’d like to get some pricing on renting traditional black tuxes for a week,” he answers.
“We have several kinds. Would you like to look at a few?”
“No, just a ball park figure for my boss. He’s thinking of doing something for a conference this fall, and heard you guys were the place to come.”
“That’s nice. Let me get you some information.” I reach down in the file folder to get his information and feel his eyes watching me.
“You guys did that fancy rocker wedding, right?”
Shit! Not again. Red flags go up, and I turn to him stiffly. “We did, but that’s public information. Are you really interested in renting from us, or are you fishing for gossip?”
“Calm your tits, sweetheart. I’m here to get information for my boss.”
I open my mouth to scream at him, when he throws his hands in the air. “Sorry about that. I’m not trying to piss you off. Usually, I’m in the back office for a reason. Means I don’t have to talk to people. Give me the papers and I’ll be going.”
I shove the papers at him in a huff and watch him walk out the door, chuckling. What an asshole! Times like this, I wish I still had someone with me in the store at all times.
My mind is still stewing over the asshole remark, when I notice a sealed manila envelope on the side of the counter. I pick it up, and turn it over to see if there’s an address label.
As the package rings loudly and vibrates through the thick paper, it falls from my hands. I let it lie on the floor while it goes silent and then immediately starts ringing again.
The store phone rings, then, as well. Before I even have a chance to say anything, I hear, ‘Answer the phone.’ Then the line goes dead.
My knees shake as I reach for the package and rip it open. A small, black, slider phone falls to the ground, ringing again.
“H-h-heel-l-loo,” I stammer.
