It’s a little weird that he hasn’t wanted to meet the new chick sleeping a few doors down, but who am I to judge? I’m sure I’ve been my share of weird. I’ve definitely been my share of stupid. Plus, my rooms have a lock only I can open, a giant soaking tubwith a view of the mountains, and five-hundred thread count sheets, so I’m not going to complain.
Well, not outside of all the complaining I plan to do about the state of the house.
It’s even weirder to me than Titus’s disinterest in making sure I’m not a serial killer. Now that the initial shock of the mess has worn off, I’m having an easier time seeing the house instead of all the crap in it.
The place is gorgeous. Possibly the nicest house I’ve ever been in outside of Deidre’s. Once I opened the curtains and blinds, I discovered every room has a stunning view. All the finishes are high-end and expensive, and the main kitchen appliances are top of the line. The walk-in pantry is spacious enough I could live in it, and the formal dining room is big enough to hold a table for twenty.
In short, the place could be freaking gorgeous if someone would give it a little attention. And if today is anything to go by, I might be the only one making regular use of the common areas of the house. Might as well get it a way I’m comfortable with.
If Titus doesn’t like it, he can come out of his rooms and tell me. At least then I’ll have someone to talk to for a minute. Until then, I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet.
And holy cow is it quiet here.
After taking one last look at my handiwork in the kitchen, I start flipping off lights as I make my way to the stairs. It’s been a long freaking day, and I’m ready to shower and cuddle into the gorgeous bed in my private rooms.
I reach the second floor and find the hall is empty and silent. There’s no sign anyone else is even in this house. It’s almost eerie.
After pressing one thumb to the pad on my door, I turn my head to glance at the closed doors lining the hall, a hint of a smile working onto my mouth. This isn’t exactly how I thought it would be, but that’s okay. If Titus stays holed up like this all the time, I pretty much get to live in this gorgeous house all by myself. I’ll be able to pretend—just a little—that I’m not half a year frombeing a single mother with nothing but a used car and some clothes to her name.
And pretending is what I’m best at.
It takes me a little longer than I was hoping to get up and moving this morning. I intended to wake up early and be out the door on my way to the grocery store a half hour ago, but peanut had a totally different plan. One that included me heaving into the toilet for twenty minutes before finally getting my clothes on, then spending another ten minutes sprawled across my new, cloud-like bed in a cold sweat as I pulled in slow breaths trying to avoid worshiping the porcelain god again.
Thankfully, the nausea running my life slowly subsides, but my stomach muscles ache from all the contracting they did. Changing out of my jeans and into a pair of leggings, I breathe out a sigh of relief at the freedom the stretchy fabric gives my constantly contentious tummy.
Carrying my purse and keys down with me, I go to grab the list I left on the freshly cleaned counter last night.
But it’s not there.
I spin in a slow circle, scanning the crumb and debris dusted hardwood. It must have slid off, but when I don’t immediately locate it, I end up on my hands and knees, crawling around to look under the few items of furniture Titus owns. And boy do I wish I’d stayed upright. I’m pretty sure there are whole litters of dust bunnies living under there. And they’ve collected enough dirt to build themselves a luxury burrow.
“Freaking ridiculous.”
I push up to my feet, intending to go back upstairs. Could I have hallucinated leaving it on the counter? Maybe my pregnancy fogged brain forgot I took it up to my rooms.
I’ve barely reached the bottom stair when the doorbell rings, stopping me in my tracks. It’s likely Deidre coming to see how thefirst day went, so I hustle through the foyer and fling open the door. For the second time—and the second day—in a row, I’m greeted by a man wearing a hat with the logo of the closest grocery store.
The one I intend to visit as soon as I find my missing list.
Based on what I’ve gathered from the trash I cleaned up already, I’m not sure what could’ve been forgotten yesterday that he’s bringing today. Maybe more cereal? A few additional crates of energy drinks?
Like last night, I take the bags he’s carrying, turning to haul them into the kitchen. After getting so much last night, I expect it to be a quick and simple delivery. But the guy keeps coming back, bringing more and more and more bags. When it’s all said and done, every counter I cleaned last night is now loaded with bags. I thank the delivery guy and send him on his way, then start peeking through what he brought.
There’s everything from flour, to sugar, to tea, and even decaffeinated espresso powder. There are vegetables and fruits and all my favorite cheeses. One bag is packed with nothing but dried beans and another is full of grains.
It’s not until I reach the final bag that it clicks. I pull out four one-pound boxes of butter—two salted and two unsalted—eyes lifting to stare across the bounty.
It’s every single thing that was on my list.
Seems like Titus must leave his rooms at some point, and I’m betting he knows where my missing grocery list went.
I’m not mad at him over it. Actually, the fact that I don’t have to trudge out into the cold makes me a little less upset over the litter I’m going to be sweeping out from under his empty hutch later today.
Tearing into a box of saltines crackers, I peel open a sleeve and take a bite from one as I start putting away groceries for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. And this time I’m doing it with a smile on my face. Because nothing makes me happier than a well-stocked kitchen. It feels like anything is possible.Like my opportunities are endless. It makes me feel creative. Inspired.
Also a little nauseous currently, but hopefully that will pass soon.
When I come across the box of ginger tea I listed, I let out a little sigh of relief. Between it and the crackers, I should be able to power through however many weeks it takes for the morning sickness to pass.
