Page 8 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

“Oh no.” Jules’s usual lightness faltered, their voice small as they stared at the spreading coffee. They snatched up a napkin, hands moving quickly—almost frantic—but there was no joke on their lips this time.

“Sorry, I—” They hesitated, glancing at Keaton with a flicker of something raw in their eyes. “My mom says I’m like a tornado sometimes, leaving destruction in my wake when I get excited.”

Their laugh came out uneven, more apology than amusement, as if bracing for disappointment.

Keaton watched as the coffee spread, equal parts frustration and a reluctant sort of amusement twisting inside him.

Of course this would happen the moment he let his guard down.

Still, he couldn’t quite suppress a grin—there was something oddly endearing about Jules’s flustered apology, the way their hands moved fast and uncertain.

He grabbed a roll of paper towels from his desk drawer and started blotting the mess, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen just a little.

“It’s okay,” he said, handing Jules the paper towels as he tried to salvage the invoices and checks Finn had dropped off for him to sign. “I guess I’ll have to get used to things being a bit out of order.”

Jules’s laughter was infectious, and soon Keaton found himself joining in, the tension between them shifting into something easier, more comfortable.

As they worked together to clean up the mess, Keaton noticed the way Jules’s presence filled the room, their vibrant energy a welcome contrast to the routine he’d grown so accustomed to.

Once the spill was cleaned up, Keaton settled back in his chair, his thoughts lingering on the unexpected offer he’d made. It was impulsive, sure, but the idea of having Jules around, of letting their spontaneity seep into his structured life, held an undeniable appeal.

Jules must have sensed his introspection because they leaned against the desk, their expression softening. “You know, you’re not what I expected,” they said, their voice quieter now.

Keaton raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

Jules shrugged, a playful smile tugging at their lips. “Someone more…rigid, I guess. But you’ve got a heart under all that gruff, buttoned-up persona you let everyone see.”

He felt his cheeks warm at the compliment, the sincerity in their words striking a chord he hadn’t realized was there.

“Maybe,” he said, letting a genuine smile break through, “even someone like me can be unpredictable every now and then.”

The admission felt freeing, a small crack in the armor he’d built around himself.

And as they continued to talk, Keaton found himself contemplating the possibilities Jules represented.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, the kind of change he hadn’t known he needed until now.

Luke’s head was going to explode when he found out Keaton had offered Jules his spare room.

When Jules finally left, a promise to think over the offer hanging between them, Keaton sat back, the quiet of his office settling around him like a familiar blanket.

Despite the return to order, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, that Jules had left a mark on more than just his desk.

Jules hadn’t given him a yes or no before they left, but the possibility of having a roommate had taken root in Keaton’s mind, sprouting questions he wasn’t sure how to answer.

What would it even look like—sharing space with someone so vibrantly unpredictable?

Keaton had built his life around control and structure, and here came Jules, a walking whirlwind of messy genius and impulsive charm, threatening to upend it all.

And, strangely, he didn’t hate the idea.

Eventually, he couldn’t find any good reason to keep puttering around the office, so after double-checking that all the doors were secured, he made his way upstairs.

With a sigh, he left his phone on the counter and crossed to the living room, dropping onto the couch.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the image of Jules still vivid in his mind—paint-streaked fingers, a crooked smile, the way their eyes had softened when they said, “You’re not what I expected. ”

Neither are you , he’d wanted to say.

The knock on the door came just as he was about to drag himself off the couch and find something edible in the fridge. He frowned, glancing at the clock. Paige. It had to be…

She had a knack for showing up unannounced, and both Luke and Finn had already gone home for the night. Nobody else would have been able to get into the building without ringing the bell outside. He supposed he should be grateful she hadn’t barged in completely unannounced.

He opened the door, realizing instantly why she hadn’t come in without knocking. Her arms were laden with takeout bags that smelled suspiciously like his favorite Thai place in Afton.

“Surprise!” she chirped, brushing past him into the apartment. “I figured you might be too busy to feed yourself properly, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Keaton shook his head, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. If nothing else, he had to give her credit for knowing the way to soften his grumpiness about being disrupted. “You know, there’s this thing called texting. Most people use it to announce their visits.”

Paige just waved a dismissive hand, plopping the bags onto the kitchen counter as she made herself at home. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to see the apartment you’re always holed up in. It’s rude that you haven’t invited me over already.”

Keaton watched her with fond exasperation, grateful for the distraction. “Well, now you’ve seen it. Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she replied, pulling out containers of pad Thai and spring rolls. “But we both know I didn’t just come for dinner and a tour.”

He arched an eyebrow, already sensing where this was headed. “Oh?”

Paige settled onto one of the bar stools, fixing him with a knowing look.

“A little birdie told me you offered Jules a place to crash. I know my brother, who got pissy when I stayed with him for a week when my place flooded, wouldn’t open his doors for a practical stranger, so I wanted to find out for myself. ”

Keaton sat across from her. Of course she was here to grill him.

“It’s just temporary. They’re looking for an apartment.

I’ll have plenty available, but I can’t guarantee how long it’ll take to get them ready.

They need a place, and this way I’ll be guaranteed to have one unit rented. It’s a win-win.”

Paige’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “Sure, sure. That’s what you keep telling yourself. But come on, Keaton. Jules isn’t just anyone. They’re…different. Aren’t they going to drive you crazy? If you’re not careful, they might introduce color into your sterile life.”

He felt his cheeks warm, the words hitting closer to home than he cared to admit.

He looked around his apartment, realizing that, yeah, it was a combination of contractor white walls and boring stock flooring.

He’d paid so much attention to the tech that he hadn’t considered decor.

It wasn’t something he’d worried about at his old house either.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he insisted, though even to his own ears, the words felt inadequate. “Besides, they’re in a tough spot.”

Paige leaned forward, her expression softening. “You’re not fooling me, you know. I saw the way you looked at them when we were discussing the mural project. You’re intrigued.”

Keaton opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he found himself reflecting on various encounters with Jules—their infectious laughter, the way their eyes lit up when they talked about art.

It had stirred something in him, a spark of curiosity that had lingered long after they’d left the room.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled, but the conviction in his voice wavered.

Paige chuckled, reaching over to snag a spring roll. “Just admit it. You like them. There’s nothing wrong with that. I won’t even tell Mom. You should give Jules a chance, but not while the two of you are living together.”

“We don’t even know if Jules is going to take me up on the offer yet.

” Keaton’s defenses faltered, his sister’s insight cutting through the carefully constructed barriers he’d built around himself.

“As for liking them, yeah, they’re intriguing.

But like you pointed out, we’re polar opposites. Jules is…”

“Exciting? Unpredictable? A breath of fresh air?” Paige prompted, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Sweet. Open. Kind. Sexy as sin. But Keaton wasn’t going to say any of that.

He sighed, unable to deny the truth in her words. “Maybe. But what if it all goes wrong? They’re so full of life. I don’t want to lead them on or hurt them.”

That was the real reason Keaton hadn’t used the phone number Jules had slipped him months ago.

No matter how he tried to parse his thoughts, he couldn’t see any way he wouldn’t screw things up and dull Jules’s shine.

It wouldn’t even be on purpose, but something would happen, and Keaton would never forgive himself.

Paige shrugged, her expression turning thoughtful. “Life’s full of what-ifs, Keaton. But sometimes, you have to shake things up a little to see where they land. You might be surprised.”

Her words lingered, echoing in the quiet of the apartment as they finished dinner. Keaton contemplated the possibilities, the idea of change both unsettling and oddly hopeful.

As Paige gathered her things to leave, she paused, her gaze meeting his with a seriousness that belied her earlier teasing. “Just think about it, okay? You deserve to be happy.”

Keaton nodded, watching as she slipped out the door with a wave.

The apartment felt quieter in her absence, the silence wrapping around him like a familiar comfort.

Yet, despite the return to solitude, he found himself lingering near the kitchen counter, setting out two mugs instead of one.

The simple act was out of character, a subconscious preparation for a potential future where his routine might include someone else.

Keaton wandered to the window, watching the lights of the town flicker like a constellation of possibilities. It was a comforting view, one he’d grown accustomed to during evenings spent alone. But tonight, the familiar sight held a different promise.

He found himself thinking of Jules—not just the way they lit up every room, but the way his own pulse kicked up whenever they were near.

It was unsettling how a single glance from them could make his heart trip over itself, or how the memory of their paint-smeared hands lingered long after they’d left.

He kept picturing those hands—nimble, expressive, stained with color—and wondered what it might feel like to lace his fingers through theirs, to let himself lean into that spark instead of always holding back.

There was an ache there, low and insistent, and for once, he didn’t want to ignore it.

The offer he’d made had been impulsive, a leap he hadn’t planned on taking. Yet, despite the uncertainty, there was a part of him that was warming to the idea. What if there was something to be gained from letting go, even just a little?

His phone buzzed on the counter. Instead of reaching for it, he let it be, letting the moment stretch. There was a warmth in the apartment that hadn’t been there before, an anticipation that hummed quietly beneath the surface.

Keaton’s thoughts turned inward, to the life he’d constructed with careful precision. It was safe, stable, but also untouched by the vibrancy he secretly craved. Jules represented a departure from all that—a chance to embrace the unexpected and see what might unfold.

With a deep breath, Keaton moved away from the window. He glanced at the two mugs on the counter, the sight feeling significant in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. It was a gesture of tentative hope, a silent acknowledgment that something new was on the horizon.

The thought brought a faint smile to his lips, a whisper of excitement mingled with apprehension.

He wasn’t sure where this path would lead, but for the first time in a long while, the uncertainty didn’t feel daunting.

It felt like an invitation to explore, to discover what lay beyond the bounds of his meticulously ordered world.