Page 7 of Me and Mr. Just Right

Rose grabbed all of the grocery sacks she’d stashed in the back of the dinghy, while Lia got her belongings, and the two headed into the house to get settled. Rose chatted easily about her life while she unloaded groceries for Lia: her boutique, her new employee who spent more time on her phone than working, the cute son of the bookstore owner, and her annoying brothers, but she said it so affectionately that Lia could feel her love for them. Lia appreciated the steady stream of friendly noise as she settled into her new house for the week.

What would it be like to be so open with someone? Anything Lia said could be used against her, and she had learned quickly that she needed to keep her secrets guarded and her thoughts secure, or else she’d be reading some hyperbolic version of them in the tabloid headlines the next day.

Too quickly, Rose said goodbye, and Lia listened to the sound of the dinghy crossing the water. And then she was alone.

She slipped off her damp shoes and stuck them in the closet by the door, and then she wandered through the house to take it all in. It had a coconut-musk smell. Kind of manly, but clean. The kitchen was huge, with a vaulted ceiling and wide open spaces for the gray marble counters. This was designed by someone who liked to cook.

Lia didn’t cook well, hadn’t needed to cook for herself in years, so she’d sent Rose a list of foods that were easy-prep meals—salads and fruits and even her favorite sugary cereal she rarely ate anymore.

She warmed up a cup of soup and ate it with one of the deli salads from the market. She sat at the back window as she ate, and watched the waves flow past the house.

After eating, she cleaned up and then grabbed her guitar. She played for hours, until the tips of her fingers were numb. Every time she stopped, the quiet of the house felt like too much, and she’d start to play again.

It stayed light outside until almost eleven, and she still felt a buzz of energy. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake. She hadn’t realized how all this quiet would give her too much brain-space to think. And the last thing she wanted to do was think.

She’d lost her best friend and her boyfriend. She’d let her guard down; she’d let them in. It made everything so much more painful when they’d left.

She took one of the sleeping pills her doctor had prescribed her for when she was on the road and her schedule was all over the place, and then sat in front of the bookcase in the living room. It was filled with Alaskan stories—from adventures to historicals to romances and everything in between. Her gaze caught onThe Snow Child, the book Mr. Ruggedly Handsome had told her about. Her fingers skimmed over the blue spine, and she tugged it from off the shelf. She hadn’t read a novel in years.

She dove right into the atmospheric story, reading until her eyelids drooped and the words swayed on the page. She’d placed her belongings in the biggest bedroom, with the king-sized bed. She wandered down the hall to it. Her entire body ached with exhaustion. Sleep had never sounded so divine.

She threw herself across the bed, expecting heaven, but was instead met with something akin to a hospital transfer board. “Oof,” she groaned, grabbing the back of her head. This was the worst bed she’d ever laid on. She rolled a few times to try to get comfortable on it, but the only position that felt halfway decent was on her back, and she hated sleeping on her back.

Had they bought the cheapest beds they could find? The big, plush couch in the front room was really comfortable. Perhaps she’d sleep there.

She poked her head into the second room to check, and was pleased to find that there was a queen-sized bed in there with nearly a dozen pillows and a down comforter.

She didn’t jump this time—she’d learned her lesson already—but slowly lowered herself onto the edge … and kept lowering even lower.

That was nice. Really nice.

She sank into one of the pillows, closed her eyes, and stretched out every limb. She tried to roll onto her side, and it was impossible. She was in quicksand, and it was slowly absorbing her into oblivion.

She flung one leg over the other and heaved her body to the side of the mattress, feeling like she’d gotten a workout in just one move.

Yeah, that was not going to work either.

She dropped her arm to the side and squeezed the mattress. There had to be at least three inches of foam atop it. Who in the world could sleep like this?

She struggled to sit up and finally pitched herself onto the floor in one unglamorous heap. She stared at the slanted bedroom ceiling. Perhaps this cabin was like a carnival’s fun house—deceptively beautiful but designed to disorient and confuse you. Rose did seem like the kind of person who would get a huge kick out of bringing in beds made to torture poor, unsuspecting tourists.

She sighed. Should she even check the last bedroom?

Curiosity and anticipation—when had her life come to this point that mattresses excited her?—had her jumping to her feet and going to the final room. Perhaps this one would be a waterbed. Or a bed of nails. Maybe even a cradle.

To her initial disappointment, she discovered a twin-sized bed topped with a navy quilt and two sensible-looking pillows. She set her hand on it first and pressed down on the mattress to test it out. She knew better than to trust any bed in this house.

So far, so good.

She sat on it and bounced a few times. It had a good amount of cushion, but not so much that she felt like she was going to need to say goodbye to her loved ones before she fell asleep. Nor was it so hard that she would need to cancel her next tour while she recovered from the muscle aches.

The sleeping pill was kicking in as she lay back on the bed and it nestled her perfectly. Every muscle relaxed as she rolled from side to side to make sure she could.

This bed? It was just right. She’d slept on some expensive beds in her day, and this rivaled those. It was just her size, with the exact right amount of padding, pillow, and blanket. Like it was designed for her. It even smelled divine—somehow exactly like sunshine.

“Sorry I doubted you, Rose.” Her eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. What a day. She was here. In Alaska. Not quite knowing what she was looking for—it had to be more than disconnection from the world—but hoping she’d find it anyway.

Hoping. The word caught in her mind. Perhaps that’s what she came here for. Hope.

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