Page 21 of Honey, I'm Home

I whip my head to him. “What?”

He smiles, this tiny thing that tries so hard to not happen. “You now realize that we never actually intended to have you sell this house for us, even though we sort of insinuated that andlet you believe it. We redid this home for you to live in, with us. We knew that being with all three of us was going to be something you needed to get away from sometimes, so we were all in agreement when we started drafting the reno plans that we wanted you to have a place to escape to and recharge. Of course, that’s why we build the little reading cottage out back, too. You can check that out later, though.”

“But I don’t live here,” I point out needlessly. Did I miss another step somewhere?

“Yet,” Hawthorne adds. He jumps to his feet, holding his hands out for me. Not sure when he put shorts on, but I’m sort of grateful and sort of disappointed by it. “You just agreed you’re good with being friends and spending time together; we could do that more easily if you lived here. Your parents are great, but we know how much you value your privacy and quiet. Your parents always seem to have some project or other going on and it’s notyours.”

“And this house is?” I question, incredulous. I’m fighting with myself because this house is stunning, and quite literally my dream house, and I feel guilty accepting if I have no idea if or when I’ll be ready to have a relationship with them. “I don’t want to lead you on.”

“Oh, you can lead us on all you want,” Hawthorne vehemently explains as he tugs me from the room. “We don’t care about that. Look. If you had your heart set on living with your parents in the bedroom you grew up in, sharing a fridge and a kitchen with your parents, then by all means…but we’re offering you an alternative.”

The mayo-chicken casserole flashes through my mind, and maybe there’s something to be said for not living there. I followhim up the stairs to the floor I didn’t really explore the other day because I was too busy suffocating on my jealousy.

It’s just as beautiful as I remember it being, and it’s easy to sit on the bed and get lost in my head, dreaming of what it would be like to live here and wake up every morning to such a peaceful space.

The room I shared with Ben was never as cozy as I wanted it to be. He said he hated the girly touches and if it wasn’t in a shade of gray or blue, it wasn’t allowed. No joke, he actually threw a bunch of shit I bought away because he hated it so much.

Looking around this space that was supposedly created just for me, these guys have put thought into everything, and it’s because they know me. Living with them wouldn’t be hard, as long as they maintain some boundaries.

I meant what I said, I’m not ready to jump all in to a committed relationship again, I was burned too recently. I don’t feel the need to be in one right now. But live here, see if we can figure out a friendship? That I can do.

Also, remember when I claimed I liked to feed my own grandeurs? Call it delusions if you like that word better, but don’t you dare be rude and comment on how over-fed and swollen they are.

Chapter 10

Arbor

I know she sees me.

She’s showing a house, trying to convince this couple that having a garden full of incredibly toxic plants will be easy to remove, and I’m buzzing around, getting a bit drunk on them. Not so toxic when you’re made to guzzle down pollen like your mom guzzles cum.

“And there aren’t any other options in town?” The husband is asking.

Aster takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “None that are built on a massive tree like this, up in the clouds, no. I know that was one of your must haves.”

The wife deflates, peering out of the front window. “What about that nice little cabin on the edge of town with the green roof? Isaw a sign in front that it was for sale.” She turns to Aster, who I can see is probably seconds away from throwing her career in the trash because she’s so frustrated. This couple has taken her entire morning up, blasting her with the same inane questions over and over again, and I don’t think they’re anywhere near ready to make an offer on something.

“That cabin is only a two bedroom. I know it looks charming, but it’s about half the size you were asking for.”

“But it’s in our price range,” the husband argues. “Why won’t you just show it to us? This is ridiculous. We’re paying you all this money to help us find our dream home and you can’t do a simple task like that? Are you even board certified?”

The wife’s eyes light up with manic energy. “I bet you aren’t. Why don’t you want us to see that house? What are you trying to hide from us? I will be contacting your manager. You can’t treat people this way.” She pulls her husband with her and starts to stomp out the front door, and I fly to the windowsill and watch them completely forget they’re up in a massive tree, listening to their screams as they fall to their death.

“Well. At least I don’t need to worry about them anymore,” Aster says as she sinks onto the plastic-covered couch, completely unbothered by the death of her proposed clients.

She glances at me. “I will never understand the physics of how your incredibly large-yet normal-human-sized body can turn into that tiny, itty-bitty thing, Arbor. I also don’t know why I know it’s you, but I do. Does that make me crazy?

“What am I talking about? I'm talking to a honeybee. Of course I'm crazy.”

I buzz around for few minutes, finding a bit of dust on the coffee table the current owners neglected to clean. I throw myself into it, sort of like a pollen bath made of dust. It’s perfect for rollingaround in and making designs. I carry my little bee self all through it, making a big heart with mine and Aster’s initials in it. Then I shift back.

I grab a vase to strategically place in front of my flower stem region, knowing that Aster prefers me being modest. “You're not crazy. Need to call anybody about them?” I ask, just staring out the window where the bodies fell.

She shrugs. “I had them sign a waiver just to do the showing. They knew the risks. What are you doing here?”

“I'm not allowed to shadow my fiancée while she's working hard? Being a boss lady and kicking ass?”

She rolls her eyes, which is one of my favorite things in the world to make her do. “Roommate, remember? Why aren't you at work?”