The House Mate (Roommates, #3)

Max

“Tiffany, would you bring in the largest bottle of Tylenol you can find?” I rested my forehead on my palm and tried to think of anything else I could do to ease the throbbing pain of the world’s most epic hangover.

Luckily, I hadn’t thrown up, or if I did, I definitely didn’t remember. Which wasn’t saying much because I already couldn’t remember how in the hell I got home from the bar. I made a mental note to get in touch with Zach and find out.

Tiffany opened my door and rested a pill bottle on the corner of the desk. “Is that all you need?”

“Coffee,” I croaked. “And . . . yeah, just coffee. From the deli across the street. It’s stronger than what we have here.”

Her brow furrowed with worry, but she turned on her heel and clicked the door closed behind her.

All morning, between hating myself for developing a taste for alcohol and cursing my friends for encouraging me, I’d been thinking of Addison.

Just before I left for work this morning, I came into the kitchen to find her eating a cupcake, the tiniest bit of frosting clinging to the corner of her mouth. I wanted to walk over and kiss it away, then taste the sugar on her tongue.

Instead, I’d grabbed some coffee and asked, “Do you have any idea why I woke up covered in chocolate frosting?”

She gave me a wary grin. “No, but I do know when I put you to bed, I left one on your nightstand.”

“Drunk eating.” I groaned. “Is there anything worse? Judging by the ketchup on my shirt, I’m guessing it wasn’t the first round of it either.”

“A time-honored tradition,” she said with a nod and shot me a wink.

“Tell me I didn’t do anything stupid,” I demanded, dread already building in my gut.

“Not that I know of. I didn’t talk to your friends when they dropped you off, but you did say . . .” The color in her cheeks rose and she said, “You asked me for a very particular kind of birthday gift.”

“Ah,” I said carefully. “I see.” I’d told her I wanted her a few days before, so there was no point in walking it back now. “Well, I can’t say that I regret that. Especially when I still don’t know your answer. Did you tell me last night?” Had I been so drunk that I wouldn’t remember something so fucking imperative? The thought was chilling. “Jesus, did you decide what you want to do and I missed it?”

She swallowed another bite of her cupcake and shook her head. “No, but-”Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“You know what? Let’s talk about it tonight.”

I felt like a prisoner who had been given a stay of execution. After her seeing me behave like a stumbling fool, I needed at least one more chance to redeem myself before she made her decision. She nodded, and I scooped up my briefcase and headed for the door before she changed her mind. I was in such a rush to get out before she changed her mind that I brought the ceramic coffee cup to my truck with me.

It didn’t matter, though.

I needed to focus on tonight. I had to do something so perfect and Addison-inspired that she couldn’t possibly turn down my proposal. All I had to do was figure out what that thing would be.

Normally, if I needed something like this, I’d ask Tiffany to handle it-she picked out the best flowers and fruit baskets, and I obviously had no idea what I was doing. But when it came to Addison? Well, I knew that wasn’t an option. If I wanted to win her over, I was going to have to do it myself. She deserved no less.

As the day went on, I put together the pieces. I called in an order to the grocery store and to the florist. I picked out a special bottle of wine. I was going to do this right, and by the time I got home, I was filled with single-minded determination.

While Addison changed Dylan, I rushed around the living room, picking up the toys and even vacuuming before she got the chance. When she came back down, I told her to relax in the living room while I handled the kitchen. She protested, but eventually she did as I asked.

I cleaned the stove, the counters, and the tiles, and by the time I got to cooking, I cleaned as I went along too.

“What are you up to in there?” Addison asked as she tried to walk toward the stove, but I waved her off.

“Nope, dinner is a surprise. You spend time with Dylan.”

While I cooked, I could hear her in the other room, playing with my daughter, reading her books and showing her how to stack blocks, and my stomach clenched.

This time two weeks ago, I would have been cracking open a beer and ordering takeout for the thousandth time. Or maybe I would have been bringing home some random woman to warm my bed for the night, the only sort of company I’d kept until now . . . now that Dylan was here.

And if I was being honest with myself, now that Addison was here.

Looking back, I felt sort of bad for my old self-the lonely, restless existence that came from flitting from one woman to another. Having nothing to come home for.

That was the way it had been with Jenn too. I’d thought back then that she was my girlfriend, but even that label had me skirting away just as fast as I could. And had she actually been a girlfriend? Not really. Thinking on it now, I realized I hardly knew anything about her. She would just come over, share a quick fuck, and then stare at her phone while we ate takeout. She never asked about my dreams, and I never asked about hers. We were together, but also apart. Strange that even then I knew it wasn’t something I wanted for life.

That wasn’t companionship or a relationship at all. It was just mutual loneliness.