The Roommate Problem

by Mariah Ankenman

  Loan Application.

  His curiosity peaked as he stopped his search and pulled the paper from the file. It had been stuffed in with an old anniversary party order, as if someone had been trying to hide it. Come to think of it, he remembered a moment last week where Gran had been back here looking over something, but when he asked what it was, she’d stuffed it in the files, saying it was nothing. Some old order she was checking over. But this didn’t look like nothing. Reading a bit of the paperwork, it looked like something.

  A very big something.

  Gran lied?

  His stomach cramped. If this paper had been what she was trying to hide—and it appeared it was—then yes. His grandmother lied to him. His throat started to swell; he couldn’t swallow past the pain. He read over the application, skipping the legal terms and interest rates to get to the heart of what it was.

  Application for a business loan to expand Porter’s Petals for the purpose of a flower growing lot.

  He read the phrase several times, each time raising his blood pressure higher and higher. Grandma had applied for a loan in order to…what? Buy a plot of land to convince him to grow flowers in the city? Where would she even get an idea like that?

  But as he read further down the page, he knew. And it caused all his earlier warm feelings to die. The fire doused out by the cold, bitter sting of betrayal.

  Co-Signer: Moira Rossi

  Mo had gone behind his back and conspired with his grandmother. He knew she’d been thinking of ways to help Gran save the shop—and a secret part of him had been hoping she also wanted him to stay in town—but to do this? To convince his grandmother to risk everything, take out a loan that could ruin her? The shop wasn’t raking in the cash. Which was probably why Gran needed a co-signer.

  Dammit, Mo!

  He didn’t care that she appeared to be risking some of her financial safety, too, with this venture. All he could focus on was the fact that the two people he thought he could trust had pushed him out of a decision. Ignoring his say, his desires.

  Story of my fucking life.

  All his earlier doubts flew away. He’d been right all along. The best thing for Gran was to sell the shop and take her away. Let her retire while he worked a flower farm far away from the city and meddling roommates who pretended to care about you only to stab you in the back.

  When Gran got home from her girls’ weekend, he was going to have a long talk with her. This was her business, but she’d promised to discuss it with him. That’s why he was here: to help. Not to be shoved to the side and dictated his place. He’d stopped letting people run his life a long time ago. He got to have a say, and dammit, he was going to say a lot.

  Clutching the paper in his hand, he stormed out of the supply room, giving a halfhearted nod to Chris as he left the shop and hopped into his car. The ten-minute drive back to the apartment did nothing for the mad he had going on. Underneath all the anger was a flowing river of sadness he had no idea what to do with. Having Gran lie to him hurt—he wouldn’t say it didn’t—but Mo…

  He’d been coming to trust her. He knew she lived to the beat of her own drum and all that, but he never thought the woman he was living with, sleeping with, connecting to, would keep something this big from him. Why hadn’t she told him about her and Gran’s plan? Sure, he might have argued with her about it. Pointed out the risk of getting a loan. Questioned their business plan. All logical concerns.

  Mo didn’t care about logic. She ran on dreams and starlight. But that blinded her to the reality of life, and now it could have a devastating impact on both her and his grandmother’s life. The worry and deception all rolled into one big ball of turmoil in the bottom of his gut, fueling the indignation, causing his hands to clench.

  He had to calm down.

  Pulling the car into his assigned parking spot, he took a few minutes. One deep calming breath after another. But once the anger subsided, all he felt was pain. The sharp pinch in his heart knowing that the two women he cared about the most didn’t feel him important enough to include him. Because yes, he did care about Mo. More than he realized. She’d wormed her way past the defenses he’d built and settled herself right in his heart.

  But now what did he do?

  If she’d only mentioned this before the paperwork had been signed. Let him in from the beginning.

  Maybe it could still work out. He’d go in, talk to her, get her side of the story. She probably had a reason for not telling him. A very Mo reason, but a reason. Then he’d talk to Gran on Monday.

  He headed inside, reasonably sure he was calm enough to talk about this rationally now. The initial hurt and anger had diminished a little. He was still mad, but he was willing to listen. They could all get past this.

  But with each step he took closer to the apartment he’d been coming to think of as home, all the old feelings of not belonging crept up in his mind. And he began to wonder if he’d ever be important enough for someone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The oven timer beeped loudly over the music Mo had put on while she was tidying up the kitchen. She paused her music and grabbed the oven mitts from the drawer. Popping open the door, she smiled as the delicious aroma of cheese and marinara wafted out from the warm oven. Once she slipped the mitts on, she grabbed the lasagna, placing the hot dish on the potholder she’d set out on the counter.

  August was going to be so surprised. Heck, she was surprised. A quick Internet search had led her to a fairly easy recipe for zucchini noodle lasagna. Normally, she’d gag at the thought of replacing deliciously carb-loaded pasta with zucchini, but since eating some of the meals August had been making, she’d discovered zucchini was actually quite good.

  Didn’t mean she was giving up her bread products in entirety, but she could handle a substitute now and then. Besides, there was a crunch that came along with the zucchini that made it kind of fun. And Mo was all about the fun. In food, in life…in the bedroom.

  And boy, oh boy, did she have some bedroom fun planned for dessert.

  Agatha’s friend Patricia had called earlier and let Mo know that Agatha had come through the surgery with flying colors and was now at home resting. Mo offered to come over, but Patricia lived in the complex and had promised to stay with Agatha for the night. She was so relieved everything had gone well. Now, in a few days, Agatha could share her surgery with August, and Mo could stop keeping this secret from the man she suspected she was falling for.

  Ha!

  Was? Like she would go out of her comfort zone to make zucchini lasagna for a man she hadn’t already fallen for. Yup. It was time to admit this fun little chemistry thing with August went deeper. She was pretty sure he felt the same way. He hadn’t been complaining as much about the city lately, and his talk about selling the shop had almost vanished. Good thing, too, since Agatha was submitting the loan application next week.

  “You need to tell him, Moira.”

  Lilly’s words still bounced around in her brain, but she hadn’t had the chance to tell August of her and Agatha’s plan yet. Liar. Okay, so she’d chickened out on telling him. But only because she thought she and Agatha should do it together and Mo wanted to wait until after the woman’s surgery. No need to add the stress of arguing with her grandson over a business loan when she had her health to focus on.

  But now everything was okay. Agatha was back home resting, and soon they’d loop August in on their plans. He might not agree at first, but she was sure once she and Agatha pointed out the logic of their plan, he’d have to agree. He’d get his land for a flower farm, the shop would get a new supplier at drastically discounted rates, Agatha could stay in the city she loved, and best of all, August could stay with her.

  Everybody wins!

  It was the perfect solution to all their problems.

  “And this will be the perfect zucchini lasagna,” she said with a smile. It looked perfec
t and smelled perfect, so logically it had to taste perfect, too. She hoped. Even if it didn’t, at least she’d tried something new.

  Letting the hot dish cool, she tugged off the oven mitts and placed them on the counter, cleaning up the last bits of dirty dishes she’d used in making dinner. She couldn’t wait to see the look on August’s face when he came home and she not only had a semi-healthy dinner ready but had cleaned the place, too.

  Mostly cleaned.

  More than she normally would have anyway.

  Heavy footfalls sounded from the corridor outside the door. Mo’s heart rate kicked up, nervous anticipation filling her chest. She gave one last glance around the kitchen to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, satisfied to see she hadn’t. The metal key fitting into the lock had her bouncing on her toes. As the door swung open and August stepped through, she flung her arms wide.

  “Surprise!” She waved her arms around, showing off all her hard work. “I made dinner and I cleaned. Well, actually, I just put all the dishes in the dishwasher, but aren’t you proud?”

  Her bright smile slipped as she glanced at the unhappy scowl on August’s face. Uh oh. Something was wrong, something big. She hadn’t seen him looking this upset since the night she tried to take him out and get him laid. Oof, what a mistake that had been. She was so glad she hadn’t succeeded in that little plan.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, Moira,” he growled. “Something is very wrong.”

  She jumped as he slammed the door. The loud sound echoed in the stillness of the apartment. He stormed into the kitchen area, and she backed up until her butt hit the lower cabinets. She didn’t think August would physically hurt her, but she’d never seem him so mad. Anger radiated off him in waves, and beneath that there was something else…pain. He was hurting, and for some reason, it appeared he thought she might have something to do with his suffering.

  Impossible.

  She’d never hurt August, or anyone for that matter. Not knowingly. So why was the guy staring at her like she stole his puppy and sold it to Cruella de Vil?

  “You want to explain this?”

  He thrust a paper under her nose. It was clutched in his fist and so crinkled, she’d guess he’d been gripping the thing tightly ever since he found it. She peeked down at the paper, glancing enough of it to read the words Loan Application. Guilt churned in her stomach. Crap! August had discovered her and Agatha’s plan.

  Okay, this was bad. But she could fix it; she just had to explain to him about—

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Grumpy Gus Gus had turned into Asshole August. He might have a right to be pissed, but no one talked to her that way. Crossing her arms, she pushed away from the counter, lifting her chin to stare into his furious eyes.

  “I was thinking my friend asked for my help in saving her shop, the one that’s been in her family for years, that she loves and planned on leaving to her grandson. I only wanted to help.”

  Russet brows climbed high on his forehead. “Help. Help? You think digging herself deeper into debt is going to help Grandma? You think risking your own financial safety is going to help?”

  “I think,” she said, uncrossing her arms and poking him in the chest as she spoke, “that investing in a savvy business move will help my friend get what she wants and even provide a nice compromise for her stubborn grandson who is being a giant ass right now when all I’m trying to do is make sure everyone is happy.”

  August scoffed, knocking her finger away. “Really, Moira? Because I don’t think you really know what makes people happy. You know what makes you happy, and you assume everyone else will be satisfied by the same things. You put on this air of live and let live, but you’re always pushing people out of their comfort zones. Trying to get them to live their lives the way you think is best. That’s not compromise. That’s bulldozing.”

  She rocked back on her heels, his barb hitting her directly in the heart. Her jaw dropped. She tried to respond, but the words kept getting stuck in her throat. How dare he accuse her of not thinking about others? She loved helping people, making them smile, bringing them joy. Yeah, she might be a little pushy, but some people needed a bit of a push. And she was about two seconds away from pushing August right off the apartment balcony.

  “You said if I came up with a compromise, you’d give it a fair shake,” she argued.

  August held up the paper still clutched in his fist. “This isn’t an idea you came to me with. This is you and Gran going behind my back to set a plan in motion so I have no say in the matter whatsoever.”

  Okay, yes, she supposed it could appear to look like that. But it wasn’t like Agatha had secured the loan yet or anything. There was still time to alter the plans.

  “You didn’t even ask me what I thought about it.” He shook his head, sadness filling his eyes. “You two just made a decision without me. I’m her grandson, her family, and she didn’t even care about my opinion on this.”

  Shame crashed over Mo, threatening to drown her. How could she have been so naive? The conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, the one about his family and how he never felt a part of either of them, played over in her memory. Oh no! Had she and Agatha done the same exact thing to August that his parents always had? Had they cut him out? Made him feel unimportant?

  Yes, you did. Now apologize.

  “Oh, August. I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand toward him. “I didn’t mean to—”

  He reared back from her touch, the clear rejection slicing through her like a knife to the heart.

  “How could you do this to me?” He glanced from the paper back to her. “How could you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t lie.” She winced. “Technically, I just withheld information from you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A lie of omission is still a lie.”

  She supposed that was true, and he had every right to his anger, but if he could just calm down and listen to—

  “Was everything a lie, Moira?” he asked. “Were you just sleeping with me so I’d be distracted while you and Gran planned this whole thing behind my back?”

  Now wait one fucking minute.

  Umbrage replacing the guilt, Mo stomped over to August, lifting on her toes to get right in his face as she spoke between clenched teeth. “How dare you! I don’t use sex to manipulate, August. Yes, I didn’t tell you about the loan application, and I apologize for that, but don’t you fucking dare accuse me of sleeping with you for nefarious reasons. I fell into bed with you for one reason and one reason only: because I wanted to. I felt a connection with you that I wanted to explore. I thought you felt it, too, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just a readily available warm body.”

  “I thought we had a connection, too,” August flung back at her. “But now I’m wondering how real it could have been when you were keeping something this big from me.”

  She scrubbed her hands over her face, running her fingers through her hair, tugging on the strands to see if she could pull any solutions into her brain to help her out of this awful situation unfolding before her.

  “Our connection is real, August. And I’m sorry I didn’t loop you in on Agatha’s plan when she asked me for help.” She reached out, encouraged when he didn’t back away. Placing her hand over his heart, she stared him directly in the eyes and spoke with all the honesty she had. “That was wrong, and I should have told you. I didn’t mean to block you out of a decision. I didn’t mean to make you feel like your opinion isn’t valuable. I care what you think. A lot more than you realize.”

  She said the last part softly, but he heard. Some of the anger disappeared from his face, but it was only replaced with more sadness, and it was breaking her heart. When he placed his own hand over hers, she felt a flicker of hope that they could sit down and talk this out. Maybe it would be okay. He had a right to his anger, and she’d
apologized. Maybe now they could talk it all over. Get back on track. Perhaps August would even come up with some ideas or request he co-sign instead of her. Whatever made him happy and kept him and Agatha in Denver, Mo was willing to do it.

  “I’m sorry.” His brow furrowed. “I know what we do here has nothing to do with Gran’s flower shop. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just so angry, Mo. How could she have kept something so big from me? Did she think I wouldn’t be open to discussing the option?”

  She reached up with her other hand to cup his warm cheek. He shaved every morning, but at this time of night, his five o’clock shadow made his jaw slightly scruffy. “Oh, August, she was going to tell you. She just didn’t want to fight about it until after her surgery, and I said—”

  August reared back, out of her touch. Shock filling his face. “After what?”

  Oops.

  One secret had gotten out and she’d completely forgotten about the other. Dammit! This was why she hated keeping things from people. When you started hiding things from everyone, you tended to forget who knew what. Her emotions had been so charged since August came bursting into the apartment, she completely forgot about keeping Agatha’s surgery a secret.

  “My grandmother is having surgery?”

  His faced paled, the dark brown freckles standing out in stark contrast. Her heart raced, panic setting in as she rushed to assuage the fear she saw in his eyes.

  “She’s fine, August. It was a simple laparoscopic gallbladder removal. The surgery was this morning, and she’s home now resting.”

  “This morning?” his voice roared. “Gran had surgery this morning and didn’t tell me? Was anyone there with her? Who drove her home? What happened to girls’ weekend?”

  She thought he was mad when he came home? The man was absolutely livid now. The paleness had given way to stark red rage, filling every inch of his expression. Anger, betrayal, and fear swam in his gaze as he stared at her, demanding answers she knew he deserved.