Room-maid(3)

Her fingers kept flying over her keyboard while she announced, “And now I’m texting Tyler to see if we can stop by and see his place.” She paused. “If you’re interested.”

It would make sense that she would ask. Excepting Shay, the potential roommate situation had been somewhat terrifying. I’d explored that on my own, and either I had the world’s worst luck or there were a scary number of disturbing people out there looking for someone to share their apartment and their crazy. It was why my aunt had been focusing on places I could afford on my own.

But anybody who looked like Tyler did and loved his dog and was that handsome and that gorgeous couldn’t be a bad guy, could he? Plus, Frederica was sort of vouching for him after speaking to him for ten minutes at a party.

That should definitely count for something. Right?

It was then that I realized my aunt was waiting for my response. “Yes, I’m interested.” Holy crap was I interested.

She smiled and pushed the send button. As we waited, it suddenly occurred to me that his apartment might be terrible. And just as quickly I decided I didn’t care. I would seriously consider moving into the murder apartment for this guy.

That might have made me shallow, but given that I’d made such a big noble sacrifice lately, I felt like I was owed some tiny bit of cosmic justice.

And possibly some exquisite eye candy.

I didn’t realize that I’d been holding my breath until I heard the ding of a reply message.

Frederica grinned at me. “He says to head over and he’ll meet us there as soon as he can. He said his doorman will let us into the apartment.”

A doorman? I thought of Shay’s fourth-floor walk-up and what a relief it would be to live in a building where there was someone who could help me carry my groceries upstairs. Who would get my packages before they were stolen. That there might be an actual elevator involved was enough to make me giddy.

On our drive over, Frederica told me more about her conversation with Tyler, which consisted mostly of them exchanging information about their dogs, while I resisted the urge to reach for her phone and get another happy eyeful. Then she said something that pulled me out of imagining Tyler and me as the stars of a music video, where we fell in love to the swelling of a poignant love song.

“He said he’d prefer a male roommate because in college he shared an apartment with a platonic female friend who ended up falling in love with him and made his home life miserable. He had to take out a restraining order.”

I’d seen a picture of him. I could kind of see where she’d been coming from.

“But that won’t be a problem for you because you’re in a serious relationship,” she said in a self-satisfied tone.

I was? Oh, she meant Brad. More accurately, Bradford Beauregard Branson IV. My high school sweetheart who hadn’t spoken to me since my parents had cut me off.

Something nobody in my family knew, and I certainly wasn’t in any hurry to tell them.

Because the Bransons were the very heart of Houston society. Pedigreed and wealthy and super connected. Being permanently tied to the Bransons was my mother’s fondest wish. If telling her I wasn’t going into the family business had thrown a hand grenade into the middle of our relationship, breaking up with Brad would be the equivalent of going nuclear.

I’d been quietly rebellious in a serious way, but it was something my parents could ignore while waiting for me to see the light and come around. Despite my recent bravery, I was not ready for the fallout of a rebellion that loud and major. There would be no forgiveness in this world or in the world to come.

So I ignored whatever our current relationship status actually was and pretended like we were fine. My mother and Frederica feuded on a regular basis (and it was another part of the reason I suspected Frederica was helping me find an apartment: to annoy my mom), but sometimes they were the best of friends. I couldn’t risk the truth getting back to my mom. So I said, “Right. I have Brad and so I won’t be romantically pursuing Tyler.”

Technically it wasn’t a lie. Because Brad and I hadn’t officially broken up. Although I was taking his ghosting me as confirmation that our on-again, off-again relationship was finally dead and buried.

We arrived at the apartment building and Frederica parked right in front of it. “There’s a parking garage,” she told me. “But we’re just running in and out today. I don’t know if you’re familiar with this part of town, but we’re only ten minutes away from your school.”

I was glad to hear it was so close. We got out of the car and headed for the front door.

Once we entered the building, I realized that Tyler had money. Not just doctor or lawyer money, but a lot of money.

A fact that was reconfirmed when the doorman took us up to the penthouse. I let out a sigh of comfort when we stepped inside. This felt familiar. A few months ago this place wouldn’t have impressed me. I probably would have thought of it as being cozy or cute. But now it seemed practically palatial. The entire living area was surrounded by windows that looked out over the city. I guessed it would be stunning at night. There was a large balcony, where I could see myself having my morning coffee, watching the sun rise. I turned to see the kitchen, and even though it had top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances and quartz countertops, it looked very lived in. The sink was full of dirty dishes and there were a dozen different things scattered over the various countertops. It didn’t seem like Tyler was a neat freak.