Room-maid(59)

“See? I told you that you had acumen.”

His bright-blue eyes danced. “You were right. Now, I think we should find out if Lauren confronts Mandy P. for lying about her on their two-on-one date.”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

“Lauren never should have trusted her,” he said as he reached for his laptop and flipped it open.

His words were like a massive thud against my heart and made it settle heavily in the pit of my stomach. I should tell him the truth. About everything. I should be worthy of what he’d told me, but how could I be when I was keeping so many things from him?

Tyler’s trust felt like a precious thing and I wasn’t sure I deserved it.



When I was younger, I always used to sleep in on Saturdays and Sundays. But as I grew up, I realized it was better for me to generally try to get up at the same time every day. I hated it, but it made me feel more rested overall.

My morning was instantly made a little bit better when I found a Post-it on my door.

Have purchased Snausages. Let the games begin.

His door was still shut and I could hear Pigeon moving around on his bed. Sometimes she was a restless sleeper, which I assumed was due to her anxiety.

I started up the coffee machine, a skill I’d recently had to acquire. Since it was basically my medical treatment for being morning impaired and it was much cheaper to make it at home, I’d learned how.

Not to mention that the barista at Starbucks had said, “Here’s your receipt,” and I’d blissfully called back, “Hey, you too!” So now I was too humiliated to show my face there ever again.

Looking at the calendar, I realized how quickly the holidays were approaching and that I hadn’t done anything to get into the spirit of the season yet. When I was younger, my grandmother used to have us come over and had her servants make Christmas cookies with us. Strange as it sounded, it was a good memory.

So I decided to make sugar cookies all by myself. I found a recipe online, preheated the oven, and started combining the ingredients. The recipe said to refrigerate the cookie dough, but I didn’t want to wait, and we’d never done that when I was small.

When the ingredients were all in and mixed, I rolled up some balls and put them on a cookie sheet. I wished that I’d had some cookie cutters to make shapes, but round was good enough. All that mattered was how they tasted. I put the cookies in the oven, set the timer, and waited impatiently for them to finish cooking.

Just before the timer rang, Tyler walked into the kitchen. His hair was adorably mussed and he smiled wide. My heart leaped at the sight of him. “Are those cookies I smell?”

“It is.”

Pigeon came in next, yawned, and then went for her food bowl. Tyler went to grab her some kibble when she sat in front of it and looked at him mournfully.

“Cookies aren’t exactly the breakfast of champions,” he called out from the pantry.

“It’s a breakfast for people in the mood for Christmas.”

“That’s hard to argue with.” He came out with Pigeon’s food, pouring it into the bowl for her. He then returned the bag to the pantry and closed the door.

“Does your family have any Christmas traditions?” I asked.

“Only if getting blackout drunk and blaming your children for being a burden counts as a tradition. It’s my mother’s favorite.”

The thought that anyone could treat Tyler that way made me sick. And unfortunately, I could relate. “My mom’s favorite is making a You Suck list that she checks twice so that she can spend Christmas dinner telling me all the ways I’ve failed as a daughter.”

The timer rang and I took out my cookies. They looked perfect. A nice, golden shade. It was hard to believe that I’d done it. I’d made cookies without burning them or setting an oven mitt on fire or some other terrible disaster.

“Hello, my name is Tyler Roth and I’m here from the IT department. I’ve been instructed to delete your cookies,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, using a spatula to pick up a cookie. He blew on it and then popped it in his mouth.

I giggled at his impersonation but fell silent at the expression on his face. “Is something wrong?”

He ran over to the sink and spit the cookie out. Was he trying to tease me? He grabbed a cup and poured himself a glass of water.

This had to be a joke. I got a cookie myself and had already put it into my mouth when he said, “No, wait!”

My eyes watered. This was the saltiest, grossest cookie known to mankind. I followed his actions and spit it out, too. Only I didn’t make it to the sink and it landed on the floor. Pigeon was there to investigate, but one sniff proved she was smarter than both of us as she ignored it and went back to her own food.

Tyler handed me his glass and I gulped down the rest of the water. I put the empty glass in the sink and grabbed my fallen cookie from the floor and threw it away. Then I washed my hands, like I could wash the stink of this mistake off me.

“How much salt did you put in those?”

“What the recipe said. Half a cup.” I pulled the recipe back up on my phone and realized that I had somehow confused the salt with the measurement for the powdered sugar just above it. “Oh. It was supposed to be half a teaspoon of salt. I’m sorry. I already knew I was a terrible cook. I didn’t know I was bad at baking, too.” Had I not learned my lesson with the chocolate macaroni and cheese?