Page 41 of The Roommate Lie

That isn’t really an answer, but it’s fine. I get it. There are plenty of things I don’t want to talk about tonight, either.

I start to turn away, but then one of those ornaments catches my eye. I gesture to it as I glance at Charlie. “Is that Cookie?”

Lydia’s beloved dachshund looks adorable made out of glass. Charlie put him in a green holiday sweater, and he’s wearing reindeer antlers with little colorful Christmas lights strung over them. It’s probably the best ornament I’ve ever seen.

Charlie’s eyes soften. “I made that for Lydia. Do you think she’ll like it?”

His voice is gentle when he says that. So soft it makes me shiver. Out of nowhere, something pulls in my chest, a wire or a string, and it squeezes all the air out of my lungs. I have no idea why.

“She’ll love it,” I tell him. And it’s true.

Charlie is always so thoughtful when it comes to Lydia, and this is no different. Who wouldn’t love an adorable ornament that looks like their dog? I’ve seen the other bedroom at his house too, the one he sleeps in now that he gave the good room to Lydia. It’s a crumbling mess, nowhere near renovated, but Charlie switched with her anyway. He made sure Lydia was taken care of.

One of those gestures alone would make anyone pause—the nice bedroom or the handmade ornament. But both of them together?Does Charlie have feelings for Lydia?

They clearly aren’t a couple yet, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings for each other. That falling in love isn’t right around the corner.

Across the shed, Charlie likes my response—me telling him she’ll love that ornament. He gives me an easy grin, his hazel eyes sparkling, and it’s a real one-two punch. My stomach flutters, but my heart aches.

I ignore both sensations. Neither makes sense.

“You should sculpt more dachshunds,” I say brightly. Too brightly. “That should be your thing.”

My smile is even brighter than my voice, but inside, my stomach is churning—although it really shouldn’t be. I like Lydia, and I like that Charlie likes Lydia; I’m happy for them. He’s a great guy, and he’s not my type. Why wouldn’t I be happy for them?

Yet no matter how many times I say that to myself, the feeling inside me won’t go away. Charlie finishes cleaning up,joining me in the doorway as he turns off the lights, and when he glances at me, my heart aches again.

“You ready, Kilpatrick?”

I nod, my smile holding steady as that new nickname breaks my heart a little more. Even if it shouldn’t.

Even if we don’t know each other well enough for nicknames, and I hope Lydia and Charlie live happily ever after.

Chapter Twenty-One

CHARLIE

Spotted:

A certain visiting author ducking into the Harris House with Charlie Roscoe yesterday afternoon.

And leaving town hall with him last night—before going on a moonlit stroll in the wee small hours of the morning.

Which begs the question: is Anne Livingston getting any writing done while she’s in town? Or is she too busy being charmed by our most infamous rake?

She wouldn’t be the first…

I don’t have time to finish the Victorian’s newest column. Footsteps echo down the stairs, and I panic, hiding that paper in a folded dish towel on the counter. As I tuck it out of sight, my eyes snag on the last line.

What game is that rake playing?

No games.

I’m playing zero games with Alice Kilpatrick. Not even fake-dating games, despite how hard those Old Birds tried to recruitme in the name of vengeance. These days, I know a bad idea when I hear one, and I always say no.

I just wish this town could give me a little credit, or at least some time off for good behavior. Instead, Principal Sutter from Ponderosa Elementary woke up to a nice little reminder about what a troublemaker everyone thinks I am. And nothing about that reputation screams Kindergarten Teacher of the Year.

It isn’t fair. I’m getting dragged for pursuing Alice without actually getting to pursue Alice. It’s all consequences and no reward. Though what should bother me most is the full-blown character assassination that could cost me my dream job.

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