Page 10 of The Roommate Problem
True, but he spent a few weeks in the summers here as a kid. Granted, that had been a while ago, but he hadn’t liked the noisy, busy place then. Staying with Gran had been great, but the city reminded him too much of home. What could have changed over the years to alter his opinion?
“Let’s make a deal,” his grandmother said.
“I eat all my vegetables before my cookies now, Gran. There’s no need to bribe me to be healthy anymore.”
“Don’t be smart, boy,” she admonished him, but she said it with a loving smile on her face. “Now, I propose—hand me that ribbon, please.”
He dutifully passed over the silky white ribbon laying on the countertop by his hand. Chuckling to himself, he watched his grandmother wrap the piece of cloth around the finished flower bundle, completing her task while focusing all her mental energy on him. A move that reminded him so much of the happy times he’d spent in this shop as a young boy; it made his chest ache. Honestly, it did hurt him to sell the place, but he couldn’t see any other option. Grandma couldn’t run it forever, and he just couldn’t see himself living in the city.
What else could he do?
“I think you should give Denver a fair shot,” she said, placing the finished bouquet in a glass vase by the register. “Give the shop a fair shot.”
She placed a small, wrinkled hand on his chest, directly over his heart. “Maybe even give the idea of opening yourself up to love a fair shot.”
The woman was asking for the moon.
“If you still feel the same in six months, we can discuss, in earnest, selling the shop.”
Wow. He hadn’t expected his grandmother to agree so quickly. Tentatively agree, he reminded himself. Granted, she probably thought a few months in the city, working at the flower shop, living with a beautiful but ridiculous woman would change his life’s plan. She was wrong. Nothing could steer August from the course he’d set out.
“Okay, Gammie.” He placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll give it six months, but then we talk. For real.”
“So sure you’re right, Auggie.” She smiled, using her childhood nickname for him.
He grinned, giving her a pointed look. “It’s a family trait.”
“Oh, you.” She slid off the stool and gave him a hug before pulling away and shooing him to the back. “Now go get me more ribbon. I’m almost out, and I need to make three more bouquets for this wedding tomorrow. Mo is coming by first thing in the morning to get them. Perhaps you could ride over with her.”
“I have my own car.” He waved, ignoring his grandmother’s attempts to match make him and his new roommate as he headed to the tiny back storage area where he knew she kept her floral supplies.
He riffled through the shelves of floral tape, wire, foam blocks, vases, and other items until he came to the drawer with the ribbons. Warmth spread in his chest as he glanced around the room that was constantly changing but somehow always the same. Gran was forever reorganizing her stock room, but it always held the same supplies. A constant comfort he could rely on.
And he was here to destroy it.
Guilt tried to gnaw away at his gut, but he pushed it aside. He didn’t want to destroy his grandmother’s shop. All he wanted to do was help her sell so she could retire and, if he had his wish, come live by him. But he knew she didn’t see it that way. He’d just have to convince her of his logic while at the same time ignoring her wild fantasies of him staying in the city, running the shop, and falling in love with his messy, flighty roommate.
A snort of laughter escaped him as he grabbed a spool of white ribbon. A more outlandish idea he couldn’t even imagine. Sure, Mo was beautiful and seemed nice enough, but the woman was the exact antithesis to everything August was. He couldn’t imagine she’d want to start anything romantic with him, either. He’d probably bore her to death.
At least then she might sit still for two seconds.
After finishing things up at the shop, he headed back to his new temporary apartment with a mission. The pod with his stuff was coming tomorrow, and he needed to make sure the place was clean before he started unpacking his things.
After searching through every cabinet he could see, August finally caved. This place needed a cleaning. No, scratch that, he desperately needed to clean this place. Deep clean. Preferably with a hazmat suit, but he’d go with a bottle of bleach if he could just find one.
“Moira, where are the cleaning supplies?”
His new roommate glanced up from the couch where she was watching some superhero movie, and oh god, was she eating cereal straight from the box? There were perfectly good bowls thirty feet away in the kitchen. And how had that crap not given her a million cavities yet? It was pure sugar and starch.
“Cleaning supplies?” Her nose wrinkled, head tilting as if she never heard the words before.
He believed it.
“Yeah, disinfectant, window cleaning, bleach…soap?”
Her brows rose, climbing up her forehead as she stared at him. “Soap?”
She could not be serious.
