Page 101 of The Roommate Lie

When I finally crawl back in bed, Nicki is awake, her voice soft in the dark.

“I never should’ve asked you to lie for me.” She pauses, reaching for my hand as we lie side by side. “I upset a lot of people, but I didn’t mean to. I’ll fix it, though. I’ll fix everything.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

CHARLIE

Spotted:

Rumor has it a certain author’s family is none too pleased about where she’s been staying while she’s in town. Even though our favorite former rake has been a perfect gentleman.

But what do they know? They aren’t from around here.

The next morning, the Kilpatricks hold a family meeting in my yard. They argue, they cry, they hug, but most of all? They put on a show the hedgerow will never forget. I’m sure the Victorian enjoyed every second.

While they work things out “privately”—sharing their business with the entire neighborhood because they didn’t want to stay inside and argue in front of us—I perform miracles with the Sharp twins. When Alice and her family finally join us again, they notice the breakfast Lydia made first: a hash brown casserole because that’s Alice’s favorite. But Nicki notices the lights.

It’s still early, and it’s overcast outside, but my dining room isn’t as bright as it could be. And it’s nowhere near as bright in here as it was last night when they all showed up.

“Sweet merciful Monday,” Nicki whispers, even though it’s Tuesday. “That is heaven on earth.”

I shrug at the lights above us like it’s no big deal. Like it didn’t take an hour, four YouTube videos, and a mild electrical shock to become a reality. And an emergency trip to the hardware store—twice.

“I kept meaning to install a dimmer switch down here—I’m a big fan. I just didn’t have time until today.”

Look at me, telling super bad Alice-lies before breakfast. The only thing missing is the exclamation points.

“You’re a big fan of dimmer switches?” Nicki gives me a dubious look.

“Yep!”

And there it is. My transformation is complete.

What does she want me to do, admit I don’t love dimmer switches? Confess that I googled her eye condition last night and made an emergency list of things I should change around the house to make her more comfortable?

Never.

Alice shared a lot of things last night about her family, but what stuck out most is how much Nicki hates it when people make a fuss over her. She’s the toughest of the Kilpatrick daughters—the one with the hardest shell—and she’s spent the past six months pretending nothing is wrong with her eyes. Forget asking for help. Even when people outright offer, even when it’s clear she desperately needs the help, she isn’t interested.

But now she’s here, and she likes my dimmer switch. As long as I don’t turn it into a big deal, I’m golden.

Nicki can tell I went overboard. She isn’t buying my “I’m just a guy who loves dimmer switches” act for a second, but she doesn’t seem mad about it. Alice notices too. Her eyes catch mine, and a faint knowing smile tugs her lips. It’s a very good look.

“Just the one dimmer switch?” Nicki asks as Tyler stuffs a mountain of empty packaging in the trash and recycling bin.

“I might’ve installed one in the guest room too,” I admit. “And the bathroom. And the hallway—all the rooms, actually. You can never have too many dimmer switches.”

Double busted.

When did I become such a terrible liar? My dignity crumbles before my eyes, but then Alice gives me a new smile, a better smile, and I can feel the sweetness of that look on every inch of my skin. That smile makes everything worth it.

Now if I could only convince Nicki to cut me some slack…

No such luck. She nods to the lights above us, cutting zero slack. “You changed the bulbs too. You switched out your white LEDs for the yellow ones.”

She wasn’t supposed to notice that. The dimmer switch was supposed to make that other change invisible. But here I am, busted once again.

I don’t mention that I read the yellow ones are easier on her eyes; I don’t mention her at all. I just lie like my life depends on it. Because the best way to help a girl like Nicki Kilpatrick is to pretend you aren’t helping her at all.

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