Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(8)

“Heaven forbid she doesn’t turn into a spoiled brat.”

I chuckle into my coffee. “Don’t worry. I’m still thinking about getting her a pony. I’ll turn her into a diva yet.”

Marty swipes at my head, and we finish our walk without mentioning Payne again. It takes nearly all of my self-control to keep my thoughts to myself, but I play nice and talk to him about work, and the kids, and the book I’m working on.

We make our way back over to the office building where Marty works. “Why don’t you come around tomorrow for lunch? Then you can suggest for him to move in? Please? I can’t do it because I don’t want him to think that we don’t want him there.”

I promise I will, then set about a hundred reminders in my phone so I don’t forget. Though with how nervous I am about seeing Payne again, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else.

What am I doing? This is going to be the most self-indulgent, torturous thing I’ve ever done. Payne in small doses keeps my feelings controllable, but him around all the time? Maybe getting to know each other better one-on-one?

I fan out the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling borderline hysterical.

The silver lining to this is that since I know he’s here now, I won’t make a fool of myself like I did earlier. When I’m prepared to see him, I can behave like a normal human; it’s only when I’m caught off guard that my words become a mess.

Shit.

This is going to be interesting.





3





Payne


Art: Rise and shine you sexy mofo. Time to take today by the balls.

When people warned me against sleeping in a single bed, I’d thought the concern was overboard. Sure, I knew it wouldn’t be comfortable, but you can deal with anything for only a few weeks.

This morning, I’m thoroughly regretting sticking to my guns.

When I try to stand, every part of me hurts.

Normally, I take pride in the way I don’t look and feel forty.

This morning, I’m feeling every one of those years and more.

“Morning, family,” I murmur on my way into the kitchen. Soph immediately launches herself off the counter to latch onto my back, and while I’m glad she’s gotten over the shyness toward me, I’d prefer she save it for after coffee.

“Morning, Uncle Payne,” Bridget says.

“Morning, cutie.” I hold back my yawn as I switch on the coffee maker and try to remove Soph from where she’s attached herself like a barnacle to my sore back.

“Let’s talk about something,” Bridget announces.

“Like?”

“You come up with the topic.”

“Ah …” I try to think. “Tea parties?”

She ponders that for a moment. “Sure, that’s okay. Have you been to a tea party?”

Kyle and I used to do brunch with friends—is that the same thing? Not mentioning it anyway. “Once or twice.”

“Tell me about it. Like, what was your favorite part? Who did you go with? Were there cakes?”

One thing I’ve learned since spending time here is that six-year-olds never shut up. “My favorite part was the tea, I went with my friends, and there was lots of cake. Now, new topic—I say we have a few minutes of quiet time.”

Bridget pins me with a stare. “That’s not a topic.”

“Okay, you two,” Lizzy says, walking in and saving me. “Uncle Payne needs grown-up time. Go watch cartoons.”

Soph immediately drops from my back and runs toward the front room. Bridget hesitates for a moment before following.

“Thank you,” I say, pouring coffees for us both.

She eyes me with amusement. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

“Not too late to buy your own bed. It’s not like you won’t need one when you find a place.”

She’s right. It’s not a terrible idea, but to do that, we’d need to take down Bridget’s bed, and she’s already been disrupted enough as it is.

With any luck, it’s only a few weeks. I’ve stayed on their couch now and then over the past month, which I managed fine. Surely I’ll get used to the tiny bed?

I take my coffee out onto their back deck and pull up the job listings. As a high school gym teacher, I’m not expecting much since there are only two high schools in Kilborough. I broaden my search to include anything to do with sports and kids … still nothing.

Goddamn it.

We’re a small town, but we’re not that small.

I set my phone down and pick up my coffee as Marty walks out to join me. “You could try not looking so depressed about living here.”

“I can’t help it when I have to see your face every day.”

“Ooh, ouch.” He chuckles and takes the chair next to me. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for jobs and failing.”

“Might I suggest that you remove the failing part?”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly.

“Seriously though, why not find a job that won’t be high stress? Once you sell your place, you’ll have money from that, plus some savings that you cleared out of your accounts, plus you’re living here for now, so what’s the rush? Pick up anything until you find something you’ll love.”