Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 17
“No,” I say. “Definitely not. Don’t have a Sunday dinner kind of family.”
She looks at me with questions in her eyes.
And I wish I could take that last statement back.
“Adele, don’t be nosy,” Austin reprimands, digging around in a square cardboard container with his chopsticks.
“I was at the cemetery and the park,” I say softly.
Adele’s expression drops.
“It’s the third anniversary of someone’s death,” I explain. “Someone who was close to me, so I visited his grave and did some other things to remember him, including having certain food in a certain place.”
I purposely avoid looking at Austin.
Adele’s face falls. “I’m so sorry. Auzzie’s right; I am a Nosy Parker. Sorry Jada.”
“It’s okay.”
“Was it a relative?”
“And she gets nosier,” Austin mutters.
“Shush,” she waves a hand at him. “I ask because I care.”
I shake my head. “My last boyfriend.”
My eyes bounce to Austin.
His eyes are on me.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Adele says. “Your last boyfriend died three years ago?”
I nod and look away from Austin back to his sister.
“Who died?” Braeden calls out.
“Nobody you know, sweetie,” Adele calls over.
“That’s sad,” Braeden says. “That someone died. How did they die?”
“A bad car accident,” I say.
The little guy wanders over. “How? Did the car crash?”
“Braed, let’s go watch your show. This is something personal to Jada so we don’t want to make her sad by trying to make her talk about it. Skedaddle,” Austin orders.
“Okay. Sorry Jada,” Braeden says.
And a lump forms in my throat. “Thanks sweetie,” I manage.
Austin hauls Braeden onto his shoulder, making the little boy squeal happily. They head to the couch.
Adele reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I blink hard to stop the tears from falling. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really wanna be alone,” I say.
She nods. “Of course, I’m sorry. I have a question, but… I’ll ask you later.”
“Ask,” I whisper.
She looks hesitant.
“It’s okay,” I encourage her.
“I wanted to ask if you can help me to the airport in the morning with the kids. It was a disaster coming here with them alone. I’ll pay for your time, buy you breakfast, and pay for your taxi back. If you can’t, don’t worry. Sorry to ask, I just know Auz has an early-morning meeting and I could just use a hand with the kids and luggage.”
“Oh, you don’t have to pay me to do that. I’ll help. Gladly,” I say.
She smiles brightly and squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jada.”
“Thanks. It’s been three years, so I’m okay. I just… I like to remember him on the anniversary, and I guess I’m not used to talking about that.” I’m not. I typically do my thing and no one notices, not even Shane, who was best friends with Josh.
“I can only imagine,” she says with kindness seeping out of her pores.
I really like Adele.
“See you in the morning,” I say. “I’m happy to help.”
“Okay,” she whispers, giving me a sad smile.
I hop off the stool and hurry toward my room, sparing a glance at the gorgeous baby on the floor with the block in her mouth, drool coming out. I wave at her and she reaches for me.
I stumble, almost tripping, and Austin is magically there, catching me, hands on my shoulders.
“Whoa,” he says.
“Oops.” I return and our eyes meet. And lock.
“Wah!” the baby exclaims.
I tear my gaze away from him. She’s got both arms up, reaching for me, bouncing a little on her bottom.
Shoot.
“How could I turn that down?” I ask, ready to pick her up.
“I got her,” Austin says.
“Oh. Okay, thanks.”
He lets go of me, and I feel the loss of it and the disappointment I can’t have baby-time. I hurry to my room, blowing a kiss at the baby before I go.
As I close the door, I see Austin scoop her up off the floor. He blows a raspberry on her belly and she breaks into giggles.
Boom! There go my ovaries.
***
And at the end of a long, emotional day, I let myself indulge, because I deserve it. I let myself indulge in writing without embarrassment, a fantasy in which Joshua is still here. He’s finishing college and has a great job offer on the west coast, so we get a house on the water. And we learn to surf, something we talked about.
I’ve always wanted to live right on the water. Someplace fresh, clean, salty. I’ve never even been to the ocean so have no idea if you can feel the salty air or smell it, but I like to imagine that you can, and I get a certain feeling as I try to get lost in the story.
But I don’t finish writing the story, because despite my best efforts, it doesn’t seem real, doesn’t seem possible. I feel the sea air, I feel the warmth of the location, but the words, words about me and Josh having our happy ending, they just won’t flow.
Maybe because they’re not supposed to. He’s not my happy ending. My happy ending might not be tied to a man, though. Maybe my happy ending will be tied to becoming published. To doing something wonderful. To some day adopting a bunch of orphans and being a great mom without even having a husband.
I resist the urge to work on that other story, the smutty Austin one, and instead lose myself in television, trying to ignore the noises of a happy family outside this door bonding. Children making happy kid noises. A tantrum of some sort from the baby, though I hear Braeden defend himself for something to do with that tantrum, and the sound of Austin’s deep voice that seems like it calms whatever that situation is. I envision him holding that baby, calming her down, and then I stare into space and try to think about something else. Or nothing. And it takes me a long, long time to finally fall asleep.
Until I wake up abruptly at five o’clock Monday morning, remembering I need to make Austin’s lunch for work.
***
I stumble clumsily to use the bathroom, and then hurry into the pitch-dark kitchen. Shoot. What the heck am I going to make him?
The bread is all gone. There was half a loaf on Saturday. I’ve got no wraps. Will he balk at leftover Chinese food? There’s a lot of it in the fridge.
“Shit,” I whisper, staring into the fridge. And then I turn the light on so I can look through the cupboard for a container to pack some leftovers into.
And a head pops up from the couch.
I gasp, part startled but mostly horrified.
Oh darn. I totally forgot he was sleeping on the couch.
What a stupid dummy I am.
He sits up and sifts his fingers through his hair.
“God, I’m sorry. I wanted to make you lunch for work. I completely forgot you were sleeping out here. Sorry!”
“I’ll order lunch in today, forget about it.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Go back to bed, Jada,” he says, standing up. He stretches and makes a loud growling stretching man-sound and it makes my nipples go hard.
He’s shirtless.
Oh my fucking God.
His eyes rove over me as he passes me on his way to the bathroom.
I feel naked, for some reason.
“Uh, that’s my bathroom,” I say as he opens the door down the hall.
He looks over his shoulder at me with challenge. But I think I catch something playful in his gaze.
I smirk, hoping it shows that I’m joking.
I’m feeling relieved for not getting ripped a new butthole because I forgot about his lunch and woke him up.
“I put my work clothes in the laundry room last night. You want me to skip my shower or you want me to wake my sister and the kids to take one?”
“I suppose you can use my bathroom,” I say, smiling. “I’ll consider it the penalty for waking you up.”
“Gee, thanks.” He rolls his eyes. “Though a penalty system could be a good idea. What do you owe me for the food poisoning?”
“What do you owe me for walking in on me on the toilet?” I return.
“What do you owe me for letting you work for me even though you showed no signs of being qualified?”
I shrug. “There was your brother’s ringing endorsement. Good enough?”
“Not even close. Fajitas for lunch tomorrow would be a good start,” he says.
I bite my lip and blush. “You like my fajitas?”
“Yeah. I also like your seafood pasta; it just didn’t like me.”
My shoulders jiggle with my silent laughter. “It didn’t like me much, either.”
“So, is it okay if I use your shower?” he asks, smiling.
He has a great smile. A really great smile.
“I mean, yeah, you probably really need that shower.” I plug my nose.
He snickers. “Yeah, well, you out here without a bra on, I’ve gotta make it a cold one.”
My mouth drops and I cover my chest with my arms. “That could be classed as sexual harassment, Mr. Carmichael!”
“You’re the one harassing my eyes,” he teases, closing his eyes and then opening one cheekily. “And Mr. Carmichael is my father.”
“Well, I ain’t calling you Daddy, that’s for sure,” I throw in.
He smiles. “No? Too bad.” He winks and disappears into the bathroom.
Holy moly.
That was out and out flirting right there. On both sides. I think. I think I was flirting; I don’t know if I even know how to flirt, but that sure felt like flirting.
I’m still smiling as I make myself a coffee and head back to my room and open my laptop.
I’m not going to be able to help myself. Now I’m going to have to write another dirty chapter for my secret Austin Smut File.
It’s gonna be a long day with such little sleep, but I don’t know the precise time Adele needs me for getting her to the airport, so I’ve decided I’ll just stay up and hit the hay early tonight.
I have a message from Carly in my inbox from last night, asking me how I’m doing, asking if Austin is still being hard to get along with.
I reply to her, giving her short answers on the Austin front, telling her that I saw my brother the day before yesterday and that was hard, but that I’m doing okay overall.
I hear the front door close a while later as Austin obviously leaves for work, and I enjoy the next few hours of quiet as I write.
I indulge in writing in the Austin Groucho the Third smut story, only I don’t even rewrite the scene from the other day where they talked about the future.
Instead, I leave it in and start on a new chapter where he institutes a penalty system. Jada Sweetheart has to pay for any infractions with sexual favors. And then I write another chapter. They go to a beach. And in the story, Jada Sweetheart has to cover Austin Groucho the Third in suntan lotion. This lets me indulge in my salty sea air fantasy as I vividly describe every muscular inch of his body.
I hear a baby babbling and hop up and head out to the kitchen and there’s Adele with the baby on one hip as she heats up a bottle, Braeden looking sleepy, flipping through TV channels.
“Mornin’,” I greet.
“Hiya,” Adele returns.
“I made a pot of coffee half an hour ago,” I say.
“Bless you, you’re an angel.”
“What time is your flight?”
“Don’t have to head out for three and a half hours.”
“If you wanna grab a cup of coffee and get your shower, I’ll feed these guys. If we eat breakfast here, you won’t feel so rushed.”
“Really? A shower all by myself? Oh my God, you’re more than an angel. You’re a goddess.”
I laugh and hold my arms out. “Here. I need a Lilly fix.”
“She’s had her bum changed already,” Adele says, “but she usually has her morning constitutional right after breakfast. I’ll take care of that. She’s turning into a little wiggle worm that’ll try to roll away on you while you change her and that could be messy for that champagne-colored area rug.”
I laugh. “Adventures in motherhood.”
“For real,” Adele agrees.
Lilly reaches for me and I get her a bottle and mush up some banana and baby cereal for her and set her in her stroller to eat. I feed her bites while Braeden eats a bowl of oatmeal with fruit. He chitchats with me about his TV show’s premise while we watch, and just as Adele emerges, I hear a wet explosion sound. Lilly is slightly red-faced.
“Oh. Just in time,” I joke.
“Story of my life,” Adele says with an eyeroll. “You put your feet up now. I’ll make us breakfast after I change her bum. Thank you for that twenty-five minutes of bliss; I feel like a new woman.”
She’s dressed, full face of makeup, has her thick, dark hair dried, and she’s ready to take on the day.
She changes the baby and then I hang out with the baby on her playmat, passing her toys while Adele pours another coffee for herself. I decline her offer of a top-up as I’ve already had three, and then she washes up the kids’ breakfast dishes and makes us a frittata.
Conversation with her through the morning is easy. Nothing heavy. She asks me questions about Shane and we try to converse in a way that doesn’t let Braeden know much. He seems mostly focused on the television and on coloring. She whispers that he soaks up everything at one point when she asks me a question about my family dynamic and he gives her the side-eye, suddenly looking so much older. He goes back to his coloring, but I suspect he’s paying close attention.
“No, my mother left when I was nine. It was me, Dad, and Shane, and I had an aunt who was a mother-figure, but she passed away a couple years ago. I don’t get along great with Dad. He’s very old school, working class, no bs kinda thing and doesn’t believe my brother has anything wrong with him. Also thought kids should be seen and not heard. I was a quiet kid, just trying to be a caretaker. Things all fell apart at once and it made me look really bad to Austin.”
“Austin is really easy-going and understanding.”
My eyebrows shoot up before I can stop them.
She shakes her head, noticing. “Usually. It’s not my business to tell any of his personal stuff, so I won’t, but he’s a great guy. Patient. Tolerant. And so supportive. But he’s had a lot to deal with lately and … it sounds like you’ve seen him at his worst; just know that’s not him. Not really.”
“He’s been a thousand times calmer and nicer since you’ve been here, honestly. I think it did him a world of good having you visit. Not that I’m trying to talk bad about him, I appreciate him giving me a chance here despite his misgivings, though I’m thinking Carly pressured him into it and Aiden pulled rank about this being his apartment, so…”
Braeden’s eyes are on me, so I decide to halt that part of the discussion.
“Anyway, I’m appreciative to Aiden and Carly for letting me stay and to Austin for giving me a job.”
“Aiden and Carly speak highly of you. I told Auz that, too. He was just being stubborn.”
I shrug. “He has that right.”
“Hopefully things will be better going forward.”
“I’ve been kind of stubborn, too,” I admit.
“Yeah?” she prompts.
“I don’t usually stand up for myself. I’m super-quiet and reserved, introverted especially with guys who look like that.”
She smiles. “My brothers both do turn heads,” she says.
“Great genes in your family, for real,” I throw in. “But, uh-huh, I’m the most non-confrontational person you’ll ever meet, but he caught me at this moment where he was an absolute jerk to me, and I was so beyond frustrated and angry that I just let a temper I didn’t know I had fly.”
“Funny,” she muses. “Austin is the most non-confrontational person I’ve ever met.”
I look at her like I don’t believe her. Because he seems to be going out of his way to have arguments with me.
She lifts her hands up, pointing her palms at me defensively.
I shake my head and shrug. “And it’s kind of weird, because I keep letting it happen, maybe because he’s seen me at my worst and I got away with it, giving not two you-know-whats, because I was at the end of my rope with nothing to lose. And there’s a dynamic now where I can act like myself. I don’t feel shy around him to speak my mind. That’s new for me.”
“That’s good. Could be a good foundation,” she observes.
“Pardon?”
“Hm?” she asks.
“A good foundation for what?”
“What?” she asks fake-innocently.
I shake my head. “No. This isn’t going anywhere.”
“We’ll see,” she says smugly.
My face burns beet red. “He doesn’t even like me. He’s just watching for me to fall down on the job and mess up again so he can fire me.”
“Maybe he was, but I don’t think he is now. You see the way he looked at you when you were holding Lilly that first night?” She clicks her tongue.
I didn’t. I don’t get a chance to say that, though.
“My brother… you’re just his type. And you clearly like kids and he wants kids.”
“He wants lotsa kids,” Braeden adds, not looking up from his coloring book, showing he is, in fact listening.
Adele sips her coffee and announces, “Yep. My brother is gonna be that hands-on dad who coaches little league and braids his little girls’ hair, and reads bedtime stories to them. Builds them a tree house. He’s gonna be an amazing husband and father. Girl, get in there.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing between him and I. No chemistry. Not even a little spark, Adele. I get that you want to see your brother happy, but trust me, he’s not interested in me. I’m also not remotely interested in him.”
“Okay,” she says and the word drips with disbelief.
I say nothing, because there’s nothing to say.
Her phone is ringing.
“Oh. That’s my hurry up n’ move alarm. Let’s go, Bray. Grab your toys and your tablet and get your booty in gear. Chop chop!” She claps her hands twice.
