Page 62 of The Roommate Problem
Chapter Eighteen
What time are you getting home?
August glanced at the text message on his phone, a strange smile tilting his lips. A short time ago, that phrase coming from someone else would have been totally foreign to him. He’d lived on his own since he turned eighteen and moved away from both homes. He’d never had a roommate until Mo. Never had anyone to ask when he was coming home.
It was a strange sensation to realize he actually liked it. Warmth filled his chest knowing that someone cared about when he would be home. And it was Mo, so she might be asking to hide the evidence of a pineapple pizza binge or because she was in the mood and wanted to jump him.
Please let it be the latter.
But whatever the reason, it was a strange sensation to feel contentment at the thought that someone was waiting for him. Eager to see him. He wasn’t used to it, but he was surprised to discover he liked it. A lot.
His thumbs flew over the phone’s screen as he replied to her text.
Just have to wrap up at few things at the shop. Gran is on her girls’ weekend, and Chris is coming in to close up tonight.
A few weeks ago, his grandmother casually mentioned a girls’ weekend with her friend Patricia. She also said she had something to discuss with him when she returned. He hoped it meant she’d considered his suggestion of selling and coming to live by him.
Or he thought he did.
Ever since he’d arrived in the city, all he’d wanted to do was leave. But lately, he’d been feeling…conflicted. He still didn’t like the city for the most part. It was loud and crowded, and the parking could be a nightmare. But he’d found aspects he really liked. The Botanic Gardens were beautiful. The vast array of restaurants that catered to many palates, including his. The parks and trails right in the heart of the city. And, of course, the best part of Denver:
Moira Rossi.
What a surprise she’d turned out to be. The first time he laid eyes on her, he knew his life was about to turn upside down, but he hadn’t expected it to turn like it did. He figured he’d have to suffer through six months of living with a flighty slob who annoyed him to no end. He’d been partially right; Mo was still as messy as ever. He found a bag of cubed cheddar in the bathroom the other day, and when he asked her about it, she replied it was her shower cheese.
That wasn’t even a thing.
But despite her less than cleanly attitude, he’d come to discover he liked Mo. More than he ever would have imagined. He wasn’t saying he wanted to go pick out china patterns or anything, but it surprised him how much he’d come to care for the woman in such a short time. He supposed their close proximity attributed to the acceleration of their relationship.
And it was a relationship. Of a kind. He wasn’t kidding himself. He and Mo lived together. Even though they kept separate rooms, she stayed in his almost every night. They ate most of their meals together, she introduced him to movies he’d never imagined he would have liked, but did, and he took her on walks through the local parks while she listened with fascination to him as he explained every tree, bush, and flower they passed.
In a weird way, they worked together.
Which was why he felt so conflicted about his plan to leave. He’d been so sure he’d lined out the perfect life for him and Gran. But now, for the first time, he had doubts. And all because some five-foot-nothing of a sassy, beautiful woman had somehow gotten him to start believing in things he never thought he would before. Like compromise and city living and commitment.
August’s three terrifying Cs.
But with Mo, they didn’t seem so insurmountable. They even seemed, dare he say it, fun?
His phone dinged with another text.
Good. I have a surprise for you when you get home.
“Uh-oh.”
In the past few weeks, he’d learned that Mo’s surprises consisted of two options: an outing meant to break him out of his shell—some of which weren’t so bad, like the concert at Red Rocks she’d brought him to last weekend—or finding a new spot in the apartment to explore their chemistry.
Am I going to like the surprise?
Because she was batting about 50/50 with him and her surprises, and he wanted to be prepared.
It’s an at-home surprise, Grumpy Gus Gus.
He chuckled softly, not minding the ridiculous nickname as much anymore. Much like the woman who’d given it to him, it had grown on him.
Great. See you in about an hour, then.
She sent him a winky kissy face emoji. Since he’d never really had anyone to text before Mo, he wasn’t the best with these kinds of responses. Gran preferred calls to texts, and besides his former coworkers, whose only correspondence was to check schedules or switch shifts, his buddies would simply call him if they needed to talk. He’d never gotten the hang of the whole speaking-in-emojis thing.
