Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(18)

“Because the last date you went on was six months ago. If you didn’t want to find someone, it would be one thing, but you do, and, Beau, my pool of available friends is getting very small.”

I never should have told him I was lonely. “It’s fine. I have Payne now, so there’s always someone around. I don’t need to date.”

“Yeah, but that’s short term. He’s a roommate, not a boyfriend.”

And this is the perfect opening. The moment to tell Marty how I’ve always felt about his brother.

I force a nonchalant tone. “Maybe Payne could be my boyfriend.”

Marty spins suddenly, cutting off my path. “You’re joking, right?”

“O-of course.”

“Thank fuck.” He lets out a long breath and starts walking again. “Imagine if I’d pushed this roommates thing on you while you were hoping for more. He’s not in that place, and I’d feel guilty to see you get hurt. Besides, you two?” Marty laughs. Properly. Out loud. “What a disaster.”

Ouch. “Total disaster.” I think the words hurt more because they’re true.

“The sooner he’s out of there, the better,” Marty says. “I think he needs to be on his own for a bit.”

I disagree. Even though things are shaky and he clearly doesn’t know how to take me, when we do hold down a conversation, he seems to enjoy it. He’s a social person. At least I can give him that.

But he’s already echoed what Marty’s said. He does want to get out on his own again. Selfishly, it’s the last thing I want, and telling him about this job opening could be his foot out the door. Am I going to sabotage myself like that?

Yes. Yes, I am. Because if it makes Payne happy, there’s no way I can stop myself.





7





Payne


The second Beau tells me there’s a job going at Ford’s Garage, I’m straight on the phone.

Is it what I want? Far from it. The problem is though, I need something to keep me going, or I’ll blow through my money and have no cushion to fall back on. How embarrassing to be living with Beau and having to ask if I can borrow money.

The thing is, I know he wouldn’t care. If the seventy-five times he assured me that I don’t need to leave as soon as I have a job is any indication, I’d say he likes me and wants me around.

Either that or he’s more awkward than I thought.

From what Marty says, Beau is loaded after selling a bunch of rights to his books. I don’t understand how any of it works, but I do know publishing isn’t an easy business to make it in, so if he’s doing all right, he must be good.

I focus on the rock music playing in the large garage instead of what I’m going to find as I reach under the front passenger seat of this car I’m detailing. My hands close around something and pull out … I cringe. I don’t want to know. This is not what I had in mind when I finished college, that’s for sure.

Or on my wedding day.

Or when that fucker and I bought our apartment.

I grit my teeth and push that thought away because it’s done now. This is temporary, and I’m not going to let him affect my life moving forward.

I tilt my head to see if there’s anything else left under there before moving on.

As far as bosses go, Ford is cool. If the rumors are true, he’s done time, and while he’s rough around the edges, I like him. He’s no bullshit.

It makes up for the pay being shithouse.

Since starting this job, I’ve seen a lot less of Beau, so I guess it doesn’t matter what the pay is like when I can stay there indefinitely anyway. He’s either out of the house or napping in the afternoons, and some mornings when I’m up beginning my day, he’s only just going to bed. Without crossing paths, it’s like having the apartment to myself.

And it’s a nice apartment. Especially now that it’s clean.

But I know what Beau means about being lonely. I’ve lived with someone almost all my life, from home to the college dorms to the shared house. I spent a couple of years solo, and then that fucker came along, and we’ve lived together ever since. So now whenever I see Beau, I basically jump on him for company.

I’ve never been needy before, but I like having a friend, and his lack of attention makes me want it more.

I’ve got friends still around, and I’m catching up with Art again soon, but having someone in my own space to shoot the shit with is maybe my favorite thing.

I still think having a roommate at my age is pathetic, but maybe I want one anyway.

Besides, I like Beau’s nosiness. When some people ask about the separation, I can tell they’re after gossip, but Beau actually gives a shit.

Keeping the house clean isn’t enough for what he’s done for me. That part’s easy. Despite the epic mess I walked into, Beau isn’t actually a slob. Sure, I’ve had to remind him about garbage left on the counter a few times, but otherwise it’s not a big issue. He’d left the cleaning for too long until it had backed up to unreasonable levels.

I don’t understand him. But I don’t need to, I guess.

When I get off work, I swing by a Thai place on the way home to pick us up dinner. If he’s sleeping, he can reheat it, but I keep my fingers crossed he’s awake.