Not Over You: Accidental Roommates Romance

by R. S. Lively

  "Probably," I say, walking up behind her. "I don't think it's high enough off the ground to be very impressive, though."

  I twist the hook and pull, releasing the line. She glares up at me for a brief second.

  "Thanks," she mutters.

  I follow her as she stomps the several yards from this pole to the other, hooking the line in place.

  "Did the dryer give up?" I ask.

  "Oh, no," she says. "The dryer is actually doing pretty well, given its advanced age. Grammie is the one who decided that it’s heating up the house too much and that I should hang out the wash. It'll kill all the germs, apparently."

  "What germs?" I ask.

  "I don't know," she says. "Her germs? I really don’t know."

  "She broke her ankle," I say. "I don't think that involves many germs."

  "I don't know what to tell you, Cade," Fiona says with an exasperated groan. "All I can say is that I have run up and down those stairs enough times my activity tracker should be spitting out confetti."

  "What activity tracker?"

  She looks down at her naked wrist, and her head falls forward in defeat as she chokes out an exasperated noise.

  "Ugh! That’s just great. The activity tracker that's making sure my kitchen table is keeping its heart rate in the fat burning zone," she says. She drops the laundry basket to her feet, reaching down to pick up a towel and a handful of clothespins from the old gallon jug tucked into the corner of the basket. It looks like the same jug Grammie had when we were younger, but I'd like to think it was replaced at some point.

  "What is going on with you?" I ask. "Does it seriously bother you this much to help out your grandmother?"

  Fiona finishes pinning the towel in place, and her hands fall to her sides as sighs.

  "No," she says. "My boss just called me."

  "Why?"

  "To complain that Tina didn't bring in the right donuts this morning, and one of the glazed ones had a bite taken out of it."

  "I thought her name was Esme," I say.

  "It is."

  She grabs another towel and pins it haphazardly in place.

  "Then who's Tina?"

  "Me," she snaps. "I'm Tina."

  "What? He thinks your name is Tina?"

  "It’s gotten to the point where I don't know if he thinks my name is Tina, or if he thinks we're two different people."

  "But he thought he was talking to Tina when he called you? How?"

  "I don't know! There are rumors his parents were early converts to counter-culture, and that his birth name is Starlight. That might have something to do with it."

  "I would venture a guess it contributes. Is Tina in trouble? Are you in trouble?"

  "No. And no. I think he just wanted to whine. I reminded him that I'm on vacation, and he told me to have fun. I'm sure I'll hear from him again."

  "Why?"

  "He also reminded me that I have a meeting on Monday."

  "Oh."

  "It's fine," she says, hanging up another towel. "I'll call Esme. She'll work it out for me."

  She finishes hanging up the laundry, scoops up the basket, and heads back into the house. The door slams closed again, and I turn back to Jace. His eyes are locked on the door as if he had been watching Fiona walk away. I bristle slightly.

  "Let's go check the sheds further on the property. Rose mentioned one of the storage sheds was destroyed in a storm. I want to see how the wreckage was handled and check the other sheds. If they are in bad condition, they'll need to be emptied out and rebuilt."

  Jace nods and follows me away from the house. I notice him glance back over his shoulder as we go, but he doesn't say anything. I know he was looking at Fiona. Any straight man would. A rush of defensiveness swells in my chest, but I try to push it away. He hasn't said anything to her or acted inappropriately.

  We haven't even made it all the way out to the sheds when I notice the aftermath of the shed collapse. This shed had been here when I was younger, but I had never been inside. It was always padlocked, and Gramps told Fiona and me it was for storage, and that we shouldn't go in because it could all fall down around us.

  Well, Gramps, I think to myself, it took about twenty years, but it finally happened.

  The site where the shed once stood is now a pile of broken building materials. I can see that someone, probably the Harrisons, tried to stack it up with some semblance of order, but it's hard to make jagged wood and metal look neat.

  "Why didn't they haul it away?" Jace asks, an incredulous expression on his face as he peers at the wreckage.

  "I don't know," I say. "I wasn't here. My guess is that they didn't want to throw it away because there might be some way to reuse it."

  Jace nods, his face belying the understanding of another person who grew up in this area. I often feel like this little pocket of Virginia countryside is some of the last remaining vestiges of self-reliance and ingenuity. As misguided and unsuccessful as it often is, there is a sense of determination here that stops people from wasting anything.

  "What are you going to do with it?" he asks.

  "Junk it," I say. "It's a hazard like it is. Let's check the other sheds."

  We walk past the broken shed to the next, and I move around the perimeter slowly, carefully examining it to make sure it's stable.

  By the time we've checked all the sheds, an hour and a half has passed, and I'm hot and thirsty. We make our way back toward the house, and I feel an instant rush of relief as I step through the door into the air conditioning. Of all the things around the house that need repairing, I'm glad the cooling system isn't one of them. With the temperatures soaring, and the humidity high as hell, I don't think I'd make it through the next few weeks without being able to occasionally relax in the blissful, chilly air.

  I'm so focused on going through the notes on my phone, trying to make sense out of them, that I almost don't notice Fiona standing in the center of the seating arrangement, staring down at her feet. I pause and watch her for a few moments, but she doesn't move an inch.

  Weird.

  "Fiona?" I finally call out.

  She looks up at me, then points down at the floor.

  "Have you seen this?" she asks.

  "Seen what?" I ask, walking into the living room. By the time I'm standing behind the sofa, I instantly understand what she's so concerned about. At her feet, where there used to be an area rug, is a large, jagged hole in the floor.

  "How did that happen?" I ask.

  "I have no idea," she says. "I came in here to look for a book Grammie was reading, and almost fell into it."

  "She didn't mention there was a big hole in her living room floor?" I ask.

  "She didn't call me here to mess with what’s wrong with the house," Fiona points out. "That's all on you. I handle laundry, supplying trashy novels, and feeding her snacks every five minutes. When pieces of the house fall off, it’s your job."

  "Well, it didn't really fall off," Jace points out, coming into the room. "It more fell down."

  I expect Fiona to growl in response, but instead, she flashes a smile over her shoulder at him.

  What the fuck?

  "That's still his job," she says almost playfully.

  Again. What the fuck?

  "I'll figure it out," I say, taking a partial step to the side to obscure Fiona from Jace's line of sight. "Just stay out of here for now."

  Fiona turns to look at me, her smile fading.

  "I'm not going to fall, Cade. I am perfectly capable of avoiding a section of the floor that’s missing."

  "I'll remind you of that when I find you in the basement," I say. "Do you still sleepwalk?"

  I see Jace's eyes flash over to Fiona. Without elaborating any further, I walk out of the living room and into the kitchen. The air from the refrigerator is even colder than the air conditioning, and I take my time pulling out a large pitcher of lemonade Fiona must have made earlier. By the amount missing, I can imagine how many treks she has taken up and down the
stairs to replenish Grammie's glass. Grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet, I fill them with lemonade, and drop an extra ice cube in mine. I can hear Fiona's voice echoing off the walls as I make my way back down the hallway toward the living room.

  "No, really, I spent a lot of time here when I was a little girl, and as a teenager. As you can probably guess, there wasn't a ton to do, so I spent most of my time reading."

  I look into the living room, where Fiona is perched on the arm of the sofa, running her fingers through the pages of a paperback. It’s probably the book Grammie sent her after, but Fiona is fondling it like she has formed a close personal bond with it.

  "I just can't see you doing a whole lot of reading," Jace says, a slimy note in his voice.

  "Yep," Fiona says, fixing a piece of hair that has fallen out of her ponytail. "I'm just a regular bookworm."

  And for the third time. What the fuck?

  "I don't believe it," Jace says.

  "Well, how about you?" Fiona asks. "What did you do when you were a teenager?"

  “I didn't do much. I was briefly in a garage band.”

  “Oh, really? Were you any good?"

  “It was probably the worst four-person experimental grunge band to have ever played for a crowd of seven cats and a garden gnome. If we'd ever had a show," he leans against the back of the couch, and eyes her up and down, “maybe you would have been a fan."

  That's enough of this shit.

  "Here, Jace," I say, stepping into the living room and shoving one of the glasses of lemonade toward him.

  Jace at least has the decency to look embarrassed as he takes the glass and downs some of the lemonade.

  "Fiona, I think I heard your grandmother calling for you. Maybe she wants her book. Jace and I need to get to the store."

  "The store?" Fiona asks.

  "Yes. We have to go to the hardware store to get supplies for the house."

  "I was about to leave for the grocery store," she says. "The kitchen is almost empty. I'll just hitch a ride with you."

  "You don't want to leave Grammie alone," I say. "Give me a list, and I'll get everything while I'm out."

  Fiona doesn't look pleased, but she can't really argue with me. Walking over to the desk, she pulls out a pen and a yellowed pad of paper. She spends a few moments writing down what seems like half the products a grocery store carries before holding it out to me.

  "Don't take too long," she says. "It's too hot out to leave the dairy and meat out for long. Go to the hardware store first."

  "I think I can handle it," I say, snatching the list from her.

  I turn and grab my keys from its hook beside the door.

  "Thank you!" she calls after me.

  Damn, this woman is infuriating.

  8

  Fiona

  Two days later…

  "Come and sit with me for a second, will you?" Grammie calls out as I head toward the door.

  I've been running around the house all day, and all I want to do is sit down and take a break before making dinner. I was planning on sitting in my bedroom but perching beside her on her bed might be a better idea. If I see my own bed, it's likely I won’t be able to resist its charms and fall asleep. I haven't been sleeping well the last few days. The lack of rest, combined with Grammie working me all day long, has me feeling exhausted.

  "Is there something else you need?" I ask, nearing the edge of the bed.

  "No," she says, patting the mattress beside her. "I just want you to sit with me and talk a while. I feel like I've barely seen you since you got here."

  "You’ve kept me busy," I tease.

  "I know," she says. "And I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing. With all the cleaning you've done, and the work Cade's been doing with that nice young man, this house is going to look better than it has since I married Gramps."

  I doubt that. Gramps was forever fiddling around the house fixing something, painting something, or building something for Grammie. He was an interesting man, and from the stories I've heard, along with what I remember about him, it seems like he lived enough for about five lifetimes in his years on this Earth. That's probably for the best, though. Marrying someone like Grammie isn’t a great idea for someone looking for a quiet, leisurely life.

  "Well, I'm glad we're able to do it for you," I say.

  As tired as I am, the sentiment is genuine. It wasn't until I got back here that I realized how long it’s been since I've seen this house, and how much it has changed in my absence. Guilt trickles through me as I think about everything I could have done for Grammie but refused to because I wouldn’t come home. I know she hasn't been languishing here all alone, but there is still a part of me that knows I’ve let her down.

  "I haven't heard the two of you fighting as much," she says. "Are you and Cade getting along better?"

  There's a note of hopefulness in her voice I can't miss.

  Not you too, Grammie.

  "Better," I say. "Of course, we haven't really spent a lot of time together. He's been doing a lot of work outside, and when he's inside, I'm usually in other parts of the house cleaning."

  "Oh," she sighs. "I didn't realize that's the way it was going to be.”

  "Jace seems to be a pretty good worker," I say, trying to change the subject as rapidly as possible. "I think Cade would prefer if he never spoke, to be completely honest, but they’re getting a lot done. I'm surprised you let Jace come, though. I thought Cade was the only person you trusted to do any repairs on the house."

  "He's the only one I trust to manage them," she explains. "I guess I didn't really realize just how much work needed to be done around here. I can't expect Cade to do it all by himself. That would take him months, and I know he has a business to go back to. If he thinks this young man is trustworthy and can help him get things done, then I will accept it. I will admit, though, it does make me feel a little bit uncomfortable to know he's in the house. I'd rather it just be the two of you."

  There’s a sudden shift in her expression, and she looks sad again.

  "Are you alright, Grammie?" I ask. "Is something bothering you?"

  "No," she says, shaking her head. "I'm fine. I have just been thinking so much about you two children since you came home. It feels so good to have you back under the same roof, but it hurts me that you’re barely talking to one another."

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I can't help but shift uncomfortably. On some level, I knew this was coming. Honestly, I’m surprised it has taken her this long to mention it.

  "Grammie, stop. We are not children anymore. We haven't been for a long time. We’re under the same roof for no reason other than taking care of you. You know that. We've been over it a few times now. Speaking of which, why is there a big hole in the middle of the living room floor?"

  "Good job on trying to change the subject," Grammie says, a defiant tone in her voice. "You're not going to get out of this that easy, though. I know the two of you aren't children, Fiona, but I'm always going to see you that way. And as the inseparable pair Gramps and I used to keep an eye on so closely. We were sure one of those days we were going to catch the two of you in an uncompromising position."

  The way she keeps saying 'the two of you' seems purposeful. She's trying to keep us linked together, even while she's only talking like she hopes it will pass as a subliminal message. Right now, I'm just mortified by the thought of my grandparents talking about finding Cade and me together.

  Covering my eyes with my hands, I shake my head.

  "Stop, Grammie. No."

  "What? It's only natural we'd think that. Both of us were positive you'd end up together. We never wondered what your future husband was going to be like because we already knew him. It was just a matter of when. We worried you were going to end up getting pregnant back behind the tool shed and would have to throw you a surprise wedding that wasn't a surprise to anyone."

  Oh, my god. Hell, thy name is Grammie Talking About Sex.


  "Grammie, pleaseeee stop. I really appreciate you and Gramps planning out my life for me, but that's obviously not the way it worked out. Cade and I never ended up... behind the tool shed. And we're not going to. I know a lot of people thought we were going to end up together, and it just seemed like a sure thing, but that's not the way it worked out. He and I have lived completely separate lives for ten years now. We're not the same people anymore."

  "I don't know if that's true, Fiona," she rebuts. "Years come and go, but nothing can change who you are deep inside. You know that the two of you share a special connection. You always have. I don’t think that’s changed either.”

  I stand up and look down at her, trying to show as little emotion as possible.

  "OK, Grammie. Is there anything else I can get for you? A snack? A drink? Another pillow? Anything?"

  She looks at me with a resigned expression and sighs deeply.

  "No, I’m good. I guess.”

  "Fine," I say. "If you don't need anything, I'm going to go shower and change my clothes because I splashed dishwater on me earlier. I could use a little break. You know how to find me if you need me."

  She nods, and I walk away, her words weighing heavy in my heart. I want to walk directly across the hallway into my bedroom, but a night of restless sleep is catching up to me, and I know I’ll need something to get me through the rest of the afternoon. I turn for the steps and follow my old, tried-and-true path down into the kitchen.

  The coffee pot is sitting in place, and I can see some of the dark brew in the bottom, remnants of the pot I brewed for Grammie an hour ago. I could pour it out and go through the effort of making a fresh one, but I just don't have it in me right now. I'm not above drinking hour-old coffee. I can just toss a couple of ice cubes into it, and it'll be just like one of those ridiculously expensive cold brews Esme buys in the lobby of the office. I pour the coffee into my mug, add in far too much cream and sugar for the average person, and carry it back up the stairs into my room. Even though I didn't get to go to the grocery store and pick out everything myself, I have to admit it's nice looking into the refrigerator and seeing actual food instead of empty shelves. It makes me wonder what was sustaining Grammie in the days before I showed up.