She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. Julia’s wedding is stressing me out. Did you know how many people are getting married this summer?” She paused. “Everyone. Everyone in Florida is getting married this summer. Which means there are no photographers, no venues, one low-rated florist available, and I called every single bakery within a two-hour radius of us, and no one can decorate her cake, so Logan’s childhood babysitter whothinksshe can do it is taking it on. I’m justtryingto help my sister have the perfect wedding, and it shouldn’t be this hard.”
She rested her elbows on her knees and grabbed her head. “I’m so ready for this to be over.”
“You’re a good sister.” He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to give her a compliment—after everything. But she was. With both Cameron and Julia. They were lucky to have her. And she was lucky to have them.
“Thanks,” she said. “I try. And fail. Then try again.” She stood with a groan. “I ate way too much, but I have no regrets. I’ll do the dishes.”
She held out her hand for his plate, but he waved her away. “I’ll do them. You need to go work.”
She saluted him. “Yes, sir.” She walked down the hall but turned at the last minute, before she went into the guest room. “Thanks for playing with me, Asher. Next time, you can pick the game.”
Next time?
He didn’t hate the thought.
Chapter 9
“But, like all happiness, it did not last long…” —Louisa May Alcott
“Boxes,boxes,boxes,”Elianasang to a made-up tune as she carried a set of them one by one to the couch.
She was starting with the boxes in her bedroom, then she’d work toward the ones in the living room and kitchen. She hadn’t seen the inside of Asher’s bedroom to know if there were boxes in there too, but she couldn’t imagine it had remained unscathed.
Playing the question-and-answer game with Asher last night, had been fun. Relaxing. She hadn’t realized how worked-up the day had made her until all the stress was gone.
All it had taken was good conversation, excellent food, and a laugh or two. With Asher of all people.
Or maybebecauseit was Asher. Having him hate her really weighed her down, and they’d made great inroads toward becoming friends.
And now that he’d agreed they needed to go through the boxes, he’d be even happier with her. See? Having her live with him was going to improve his life. She’d done him a favor by blackmailing him.
She kept the blinds closed even though the low lighting made her eyes ache with strain. He didn’t have a back-up plan for a place to live, but he couldn’t live here forever. Her heart ached remembering his story. She couldn’t imagine losing everyone she loved.
She couldn’t fix his problems, but she could help him go through these boxes, because that would at least give him some options.
She worked on her book all morning and through lunch, and had only written half a page.
She tried to write about the non-monogamous birds, but the words weren’t coming. She skipped to a different chapter and tried to write about the power of solo decision-making, but every word was like slogging through mud.
Asher had left a covered plate in the fridge, a sticky note with her name attached to it. She could definitely get used to this. Maybe Asher would continue to want a roommate once he moved out of his grandpa’s bungalow?
He’d cook dinner for her when she was working late.
She’d make him play silly games when he got too serious.
It was a perfect arrangement.
Nothing was keeping her in Boston. Not really. She’d lived there with Corbin, and after the divorce, she’d stayed. Partly out of embarrassment, partly out of pride. She hadn’t wanted to come crawling back home in failure. And Corbin had told her she was much too dependent on her family, and them on her. It was one of the things that used to drive him nuts.
She realized now Corbin’s complaints about her family were one more way for him to control her life. She’d missed her family. She didn’t want to live with them again—especially not in a two-bedroom apartment—but she wanted to have dinner with them, and take walks on the beach with them, and help with Cam’s appointments, and be an active part of their lives.
She rolled her eyes at herself. One good meal, and she was ready to move back home and force a taciturn man who didn’t even like her—or Louisa, yeah, she’d noticed—to be her roomie.
But he’d usedreal cream. Andbutter. Andgarlic.
No, Elly. This is only temporary.
She opened the first box. If the outside had been dusty, the inside was a miniature Sahara desert. Her throat dried up, and she began coughing and waving the air in front of her to clear the dust particles.
