Page 38 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

Morgan

T he wheel of the cheap plastic lighter spins, but my shaking fingers kill the spark before it can grow into a flame.

“Come on,” I mumble under my breath, struggling as I try once again to light the wick of James’s favorite candle.

The flame finally comes to life in my hand, filling the air with the smell of sweet caramel and fall spices as the wax starts to melt, adding the final touch to the atmosphere I’ve spent all day trying to create.

A vase of roses and a small wrapped box sit on the coffee table, sticking out against the backdrop of the otherwise immaculate apartment.

I spent the morning cleaning it from top to bottom, only to do it again as soon as I was done.

The repetitive task occupied my hands and kept my mind from fixating on her and what the future might hold for us.

James should be home by now. The sun set hours ago, draping a blanket of cold winter darkness over the city. It’s late enough that even the streets have grown quiet, but there hasn’t been any sign of her.

I fluff the pillows on the couch, adjusting their position for the twelfth time, trying to get them perfectly straight. My fingers itch with the need to call her, to make sure she is okay, but I fight it. The last thing she needs after Tanner is to have me breathing down her neck.

The sound of a key scraping against the pins of the lock paralyzes me where I stand.

She’s home .

My heart skips a beat and takes off in my chest, urging me back into action, and I run my fingers through my hair in a desperate attempt to fix the unruly mop of curls.

Time slows as the door swings open, and my breath catches in my throat when I see her.

It’s like the piece I’ve been missing these past few weeks slots back into place, restoring the world to full color when I had been living in shades of gray.

The blissful feeling of relief only lasts a moment as I take all of her in before it crashes down around me.

James looks like a ghost of herself standing frozen in the doorway.

She looks through me with swollen red eyes, but there’s no spark of life in them.

Her hair is just as lifeless as it hangs in dull clumps around hunched shoulders.

It’s like the woman I love has been completely eclipsed by despair.

Each piece would be worrying on its own, but all together, it’s a flashing red warning that something is really, really wrong.

She trembles in the doorway, not moving and not saying anything. I take a step toward her, and she recoils, the small motion piercing my heart.

“Hi.” The whispered word is all I can manage.

That breaks her out of her trance. She stumbles forward, dropping her bags and Grover’s leash as she closes the front door and hurls herself at me. I’m able to get my arms around her just as she collapses against me with a heaving sob.

“Morgan,” she chokes out through gasping breaths.

“Shh, I’ve got you, pretty girl,” I tell her, pulling her in close.

She only cries harder, fully falling into me as her legs give out beneath her. My heart aches to see her like this and not be able to do anything but hold her while she shatters. I murmur soothing words into her hair between barely there kisses until her sobbing slows and her breathing evens out.

“I-I need to tell you something,” she says.

Her tone holds the same solemn severity of a death sentence.

Like a doctor telling you there’s nothing else they can do.

My stomach rolls as I brace myself for the impact of whatever it is she says next.

I don’t know what those words might be, but I’m certain they’re going to destroy me .

“Tanner proposed,” she whispers against my chest. “I’m engaged.”

Her words strike true, piercing into my heart, creating fractures that splinter into tiny pieces until there’s nothing left but shattered fragments.

I pull my arms off her, recoiling from the burn of her toxic touch, and take a step away.

She doesn’t even try to hold herself up as she resumes sobbing in earnest, sinking to her knees in front of me.

I don’t watch her fall; I can’t. I’m too numb, and I don’t look at her as I step around her toward the front door, slipping on a pair of shoes and collecting my wallet and keys along the way.

“Wait, please stay,” she begs as my hand starts to turn the knob, and as much as I hate myself for it, the sound of her pleading stops me in my tracks.

“For what?” I snap through clenched teeth.

A chaotic tangle of rage, confusion, and pain breaks past the initial emptiness of shock, and the emotions catch me off guard with their intensity. I need to get out of here, or I am going to say things or do something I might regret.

“Please just talk to me.” She scrambles to her feet, wiping away the still-falling tears as she takes a step toward me.

The light catches on the sparkling stone that now adorns her finger, and my nonexistent heart manages to break apart even further as my chest caves in.

My back hits the door as I flee from her approach, and she freezes.

“What is there to talk about?” A bitter laugh falls from my lips; it’s a sound that I don’t recognize coming from my lips.

“You went home, Tanner proposed, you said yes, and now you are engaged. All the talks of leaving him and plans for our future were just empty promises that got thrown to the curb when something bigger, better, and shinier came along.”

“It isn’t like that…”

“Then what’s it like, James?” My voice comes out louder and angrier than I intend, not quite a shout, but it causes her to flinch all the same.

I take a deep breath to rein in the raging storm of emotion before continuing in a more even tone.

“Please, enlighten me on how you went from ‘I’m breaking up with him’ to ‘I’m marrying him’ over the course of a few weeks.

That isn’t something you decide on a whim. ”

“I don’t know,” she sobs.

“You don’t know?” Another incredulous laugh escapes my lips. “You agreed to spend the rest of your life with someone and you don’t know how or why you decided to do it? I don’t even know what to say to that. Just answer me this, are you happy? Is this what you want?”

“I don’t know,” she wails, falling back into a fit of sobs.

“Okay.” All the fight drains from my body. “Good luck figuring it out, but I can’t be here while you do. For what it’s worth, all I want is for you to be happy. So congratulations. Tanner is a lucky man.”

I turn and walk out the door, no longer listening as she pleads for me to stay, then pull the door shut with an almost silent click .

That action brings the reality of the situation home.

The door to any possible relationship with James is now firmly closed and locked behind me.

I’ve been such an idiot to think this was all going to work out and that she was going to choose me.

Nathan was right from the beginning—she was never going to be mine.

He is never going to let me hear the end of this.

I don’t have a destination in mind as I take to the streets, letting my feet guide me in their aimless wandering.

The cold bite of January air pierces through the thin layers of my clothes, growing more unbearable with every minute that drags by.

Its sting is the only thing that keeps me from sinking completely into the hollow, empty feeling growing in my chest. Returning to that apartment tonight isn’t an option—I would rather sleep on the street than face her again—but I need to find somewhere to go.

Despite the noticeable lack of students, the glowing neon signs that litter the window fronts declare the bars are open, marking Cutter’s as the clear choice for where I might find refuge, or at least something to help me forget this waking nightmare.

The familiar sight of Gage behind the bar should be a relief, but I don’t feel anything, not even a pulse of gratitude as he hands me my favorite beer as I sit down at the counter.

“You look like shit.” He crosses his arms and gives me another, more thorough look over.

I don’t bother responding to that as I drink down the bitter liquid like it’s water and drop the empty glass back to the counter.

He puts another in front of me before I even have time to ask for it, but he doesn’t lose the appraising look in his eyes.

This one I sip slower, and he relaxes out of his tense stance.

“Seriously, Morgan, are you okay?” He doesn’t bother trying to hide the sound of his concern.

“No,” I tell him honestly, my voice void of any inflection.

He doesn’t push me to elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. The scrutiny of his gaze does all the work for him.

“James is getting married.” My heart shatters all over again as I say the words out loud, as if verbalizing it somehow makes it more real.

“Fuck.” He grabs a bottle of vodka and pours me an overfilled glass.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

The clear liquid burns my throat, but that doesn’t stop me from draining the glass. The pain is a welcome distraction from the gaping hole in my chest.

“Look, I’m not great at this shit, but I know you have feelings for her. I was rooting for you two. I’m no Nathan, but if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”

“She kissed me before she left for break.” The words spill past my alcohol-loosened lips.

His eyes widen a fraction, but his face doesn’t betray his response any more than that.

I hadn’t told anyone about what happened between us after they all left the party.

For as right as that kiss felt, it came with a layer of guilt that I couldn’t shake, so I kept it as my own sordid secret.

“She kissed me, and she told me she was leaving him. She told me that when she got back, we could finally explore what an us might look like. I’m an idiot because I believed her. I really, truly believed her.” My voice cracks as the emotions start to overwhelm me again.

“When she got ho—” I choke on that cursed word.

I was wrong before. That apartment sure as hell isn’t my home.

“When she got back to the apartment, I was expecting her to be mine, but I knew right away that something was wrong. The worst part, though, is that even while she was actively destroying my heart, she had the audacity to lean on me for her support and beg me to stay.”

“Fuck, I knew she was a bitch, but I didn’t think she was that heartless.”

“She’s not a bitch.” I jump to her defense on instinct. He gives me an incredulous look, and I drop my head to the sticky bar top with a deep sigh. “I can’t go back there tonight.”

“You can stay with me for as long as you need.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and fills my glass, leaving the half-full bottle with it.

It’s empty by the time we leave.