“Yeah, no, absolutely not,” he said.
There was a realtoneto it.
“Though obviously I’m an excellent housemate,” I said.
He snorted.
“At leastIdon’t leave towels on the bathroom floor,” I said.
“No, you just don’t turn on the exhaust fan, or put anything in the dishwasher.”
Confrontational, unfriendly silence.
Tried again.
“Look, I don’t want a housemate. I want to settle down.”
Felt him looking at me curiously over his mug at that, so I got up to put things in the dishwasher (loudly and pointedly).
“On your own?”
“Sorry?” I said, without turning.
“It’s just, normally when people say they want to settle down, they want to settle downtogether. With someone.”
“Yes, well, there is no someone anymore. I’ll be settling down on my own.”
“Ah,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “Yeah. I think that’s what I’ll end up doing, too.”
Bristled slightly at this—wasn’t saying I have “ended up” alone. This is what I’ve chosen. Also, no way this man will end up alone. He’s a bit messed up and complicated, undoubtedly, but what’s a murky past and a bit of alcoholism when you’re an attractive man in your thirties? He’d clean up on the apps.
Anyway. His relationship status is not my business. Whatever his deal is, he needs to be dealing with it out of my walk-in wardrobe.
“But the job had accommodation included,” he said. “Ultimately, the stables…This place is part of the deal. For me.”
“Or me.”
Unmistakable rise in tension.
“Not you. But yeah.”
“It could be me.”
“It’s not you. You know it’s not you.”
“I am actuallyveryconfident the job wasn’t offered to you,” I countered, slamming a bowl into the top rack of the dishwasher, “but let’s not get into this, shall we? We’ve agreed to share.”
“Yeah,” he said, a little darkly for my liking.
On my glare, he added, “You can’t bethatconfident the job isn’t mine, or you’d have made a play to have it all to yourself. But you didn’t. You agreed to share.”
“I’m not a risk-taker,” I said. Is that strictly true? Not sure, actually. “And there was a lot at stake. So I compromised. Besides, you did the same.”
“Like you say,” he said steadily, “there was a lot at stake. It’s a prepackaged ready-made new life, isn’t it? And somewhere so epic.” He waved a hand out at the island glimmering beyond the kitchen windows.
Felt a little unsettled by how much he got it. Am often unsettled by Jones. He’s just…distracting. Find myself feeling jittery around him.
“Well then. We both want the same thing. We just need to sort the sleeping situation,” I said.
