CHAPTER 2

Samantha:

Engaged. En-gaged. En-ga-ged. I repeat the word over and over in my head, hoping that repetition will make it make sense. But the more I echo it, the more like gibberish it sounds. And the bottom line is it doesn’t matter if I get it or not. What matters is Maggie, my life-long best friend and roommate for the entire three and half years we’ve been in college, is engaged, and he’s moving in.

And they’ve asked me to move out.

I should have just stayed in the dorms. Moving off campus with Maggie last year is proving to have been a horrible mistake.

I’m happy for her, I tell myself as I dump the contents of my bottom dresser drawer into a box without bothering to sort or fold any of it and move to grab everything in the next drawer. And I mean it; I am happy for her.

But… I’m also sad for me. This is the end of an era. “The Dynamic Duo is dead,” I mutter to myself as I empty the last of my dresser drawers into the box and continue to the nightstand. She’s moving on, building a life with someone new, and the closest thing I have to a significant other is Poofie, my twelve-year-old cat. And I’m pretty sure he hates me most of the time.

I’m being dramatic, but I don’t care. Maggie and I have been best friends since kindergarten, and she just springs it on me that Michael is in and I’m out. Okay, so they did give me “as long as you need to find a decent place, Sammy.” I recall Maggie’s gentle tone, but it does little to lessen the sting.

I close up the now-full box and open another, then head into the bathroom for my toiletries and products. That’s going to be a whole box in itself. I don’t bother organizing the contents of this box either. I’m a woman on a mission, and that mission is to get out of here as quickly as possible. And fueled by emotion as I am right now, I’m making short work of packing. But where am I going to go?

Mom and Dean just sold the house and moved into a one-bedroom condo on the beach. While the idea of ocean views is appealing, I can’t bear the thought of sleeping on their couch indefinitely. Dean likes to stroll around in his tighty-whities. I found this out the hard way when I stayed with them last year while the apartment was being fumigated. It’s not an experience I have any desire to repeat.

My little sister, Anne-Marie, just moved into a tiny home with her Great Dane, Pete. Pete’s almost bigger than the whole house. There’s barely enough room for Anne-Marie to move around, let alone two people.

I mentally run through my list of friends—a list that is, apparently, a lot shorter than I thought it was. Everyone is either living in already cramped quarters or has a live-in partner.

Except Robby. My favorite cousin. He’s living the bachelor life in his loft downtown. Okay, so up until this moment, Genevieve was my favorite cousin, but now it’s Robby.

And that’s exactly who I will appeal to. My cousin has never been able to resist helping me when I come to him. Now won’t be any different; I’m sure of it.

I’m so certain of Robby’s familial affection for me that I don’t even bother to call before loading up my little car with everything it will hold and driving over to his place. Finding parking downtown takes a million years, and I end up a block and a half away from his building, which is going to make unloading a pain. But I would trek ten blocks each way if it meant not having to face my roommate and her beau right now.

I probably should have at least called to see if Robby is home, I realize as I heft Poofie in his plastic carrier under one arm and balance it against my hip so I can knock. When no one answers, I knock again and am rewarded with an annoyed, “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” from somewhere inside the apartment. Good. He’s home.

When Robby answers the door, I paste on my best sheepish smile and pray he takes pity on me.

“Sam?” His dark brows draw together in confusion as he stares down at me and the pet carrier tucked under my arm. “What are you doing here?” His voice suggests he already suspects but is trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.

“I need a place to stay.” Cue the puppy-dog eyes he’s never once said no to.

Robby sighs and scrubs a hand down his face before scratching at the day-old stubble on his chin. “Sam…”

“Please, Robby. Just until I find a new place.”

“Did you and Maggie have a fight or something?”

“Something like that.” I would prefer to not have this discussion in the hall outside his front door, but the way he’s filling the doorframe and making no moves to let me through tells me I’m going to need to make my case. “She kicked me out.”

“You guys have been friends forever. Just apologize for whatever you did and ask her to let you stay.”

A pinch of hurt skitters into the pit of my stomach, and I can’t keep it out of my voice when I answer him. “What makes you think I did anything? For your information, she and Michael are moving in together and they want the place to themselves.”

His expression softens, but he still doesn’t let me in. The elevator dings, and the doors open. An older couple steps off and eyes us on their way to their own apartment down the hall.

“Can we have this conversation inside?” I ask quietly. Having to beg him to take me in is bad enough. I don’t want to do it in front of an audience.

He steps back and opens the door wider for me to enter. I walk on soft feet into the living room and set Poofie on the coffee table, careful to avoid the handful of car and sports magazines fanned out across the dark wood surface. I want to prove I’ll be a good roommate. Disrespecting my cousin’s stuff as my first official move inside his apartment isn’t going to help my case any.

“Please, Robby. You’re the only person I know who has room for me.” I beg and then correct myself. “For us.” I indicate Poofie’s carrier with a nod. “We have nowhere else to go. Just let me crash in your spare room for a bit. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“I don’t have a spare room anymore.”

“I will totally stay out of your way, and I’ll pay r—” I stop when his words sink in. “Wait, what?”

“I have a roommate.”

“Since when?” I challenge as I sink down onto the plush navy blue couch that is definitely not the plaid hand-me-down monstrosity my aunt and uncle gave him when he moved in here in college.

“I don’t know. A month, maybe?” Robby leaves me in the living room, skirts the kitchen island, and heads for the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle of water and holds it up in offering to me. I nod, and he reaches back into the fridge to grab a second bottle for himself.

“Okay, then…” I look around, scrambling for a new plan. I can’t go crawling back to Maggie and Michael with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t exactly warm and friendly on my way out. My gaze lands on the alcove at the far end of the living room. It’s empty except for Robby’s bass guitar and an electric I don’t recognize. “What about the nook? It’s big enough for a bed. I could just sleep there.”

He hands me one of the bottles and sits down on the couch next to me while eying the space at the other end of the room with uncertainty.

Before he can say no, I continue, “Robby, seriously, I have no place to go. And I’m super easy to live with.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, “At the very least, I won’t be bringing a bunch of people over and leaving my crap everywhere. I don’t even have that much stuff.” Maggie and I have been living together for so long that most of the stuff in our apartment is shared belongings. And my current mood is “cut off my nose to spite my face” so I definitely don’t want any of it.

Robby still looks unconvinced, so I close with a sing-songy, “I make the best brownies.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I need to ask Gavin if he’s cool with it.”

Robby dials his roomie’s number and gets an answer on the first ring.

“Hey, man, my cousin, Sam, needs a place to stay for a bit. Is that cool with you?”

I lean in close to hear the response, and Robby doesn’t even bother trying to move away. He knows me well enough to know I’ll just follow. I’ve always been unapologetically nosy; that’s never going to change.

The voice on the other end of the line is low and gravelly. “For how long?”

Robby raises his eyebrows at me in question, and I mouth, “A couple weeks?”

“A week or two, maybe,” he tells Gavin.

Gavin’s answer is muffled, and he sounds distracted. “Sure, no problem.”

My answering smile is as wide as my face as Robby thanks him and hangs up the phone. I throw my arms around his neck and tell him, “Thanks, Cuz. You won’t regret this. Now, come help me move my stuff up.”

Robby exhales heavily but doesn’t argue. Twenty-one years of being related to me has taught him it’s easier just to play along. Tonight, I’ll worry about the boxes in my car. I’ll wait until tomorrow to convince Robby to help me move my bed over from my—er Maggie and Michael’s place. I can grab an air mattress or something from the nearest store to get me through the night. Honestly, the relief of having found a place to stay has left me feeling so light, I probably won’t even feel the temporary bed underneath me.