Page 43 of The Reluctant Roommate

“Thank you.” She reached over and gripped Heidi’s hand.

“Is that a friends’ handshake? Seal the new deal?”

“I guess.” Morgan turned her hand over and shook Heidi’s. Her palm was warm, slightly rough on the fingertips. What would they feel like, sliding—

Enough.She slammed that thought shut in her mind.

Heidi disentangled her hand and sat back, picking up her beer again. “I hope we can share with each other, though. Talk about things that matter.” She glanced away, over to where the bartenders poured spirits, bantered with the customers and each other. “There are two people I trust in Denver: Lula and you. I hope to make more friends, but so far, you two are it.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“So I hope we can continue to build our closeness and trust. And that goes two ways. If you want to talk, oh woman of mystery, I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “But it’s really not that easy for me.”

“You could start by telling me why you want a roommate in the first place. It seems…unusual. You don’t seem to need the money, what with your high-powered job. You’ve said you’re difficult to live with, and sometimes I feel like a guest in your home rather than someone who lives there. So why do you want to share?”

Morgan’s throat closed over for a second, making it hard to breathe. Of course, perceptive Heidi would see these things and wonder. Roommates were usually roommates either because they’d been friends forever and loved living with each other or for financial reasons. And Heidi had to realize neither of those seemed to fit.

“It’s complicated.” The urge to confess about her job rose in her chest. How hard could it be to say the words? But that would elicit sympathy, would mean she’d become a lesser person in Heidi’s eyes. Or would she? Heidi didn’t seem judgmental; she certainly didn’t equate anyone’s worth with their job.

How hard could it be?

Don’t tell anyone your father and I have separate beds.

Don’t tell anyone about my operation.

Don’t tell anyone we can’t afford a new car. Tell them we love the old one.

The “don’t tell”s of her childhood were a part of her psyche. Put on the successful front, hide your failures.

Heidi watched her. “It’s okay, Morgan. You can keep your secrets. Just know that if you ever want to share them, I’m on your side.”

She nodded, her throat too tight for words. Instead, she picked up her wine again and took a sip.

Sometimes, it was easier not to face things.

Chapter 22

It’s the Grilled Cheese

“Lula’s coming around,” Heidi said a few days later. “We’re going to walk around the park, maybe have a coffee at that cute place on Downing. Want to come?”

“I can’t.” Morgan looked up from her laptop. “I need to finish this.”

“Okay.” Heidi leaned against the back of the couch and crossed her ankles. “I’d say ‘have fun,’ but it’s work, so I’m sure you’ll suffer through it as we all do.”

The doorbell rang, and Heidi bounced up. “See you later.”

She pulled on her Nikes and greeted Lula with a hug. The previous night’s snowfall blanketed the path, a couple of inches of crunchy powder on the sidewalk. “I’ll have to shovel this when we get back.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and adjusted her ear warmers.

“It might be gone when we get back,” Lula said.

“You optimist. Not a chance. It must be below freezing.”

They walked up Clearmont Street, turning east toward the park. It was blanketed in white, and dogs galloped off leash through the fresh snow.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving next week?” Lula asked.