Page 4 of Room for Three

Damn, this is hard.

Taking in Charlie’s daughter was inevitable. Of course we would. But now that she’s here, I’m freaking the fuck out.

First off, I don’t remember her being so…beautiful. Last time I saw her was in court, around a year ago, not long after the funeral. She’d been distraught and was all puffy faced from crying, nothing more than a teenager who’d savagely lost her parents. We’ve kept in communication via text but haven’t seen her since.

Now that time has passed, it’s clear she’s all woman. If only Charlie and Serena could see her today. She looks exactly like her mother, with the same always swollen bottom lip that gives her a perpetual pout. Her hair is long, light brown, and curls at the ends, just like Serena’s did. It’s the eyes, though, that remind me the most of my friend’s wife. Pale green, intense, intelligent.

God, I miss them.

When Charlie took Serena home from the bar decades ago, though I was obviously interested in her first, I never thought it’d turn out like this. They created a sweet, sassy little girl and had a beautiful marriage. Obviously, I forgave him, because fate wanted them to be together.

Did fate want them to die together too?

By the time I leave my bedroom, changed into dark jeans and a crisp white T-shirt, I’m feeling agitated. I’d rather go for a run—the ultimate stress reliever aside from sex—but I need to sort out Savvy’s ride to school situation first.

Travis and Savvy are no longer in his, er,herroom. I’m grateful he’s more easygoing than me because he can make her feel comfortable. I know I can be a stiff. Travis is the complete opposite.

I slip out the front door, hoping to breeze past our neighbor’s door before she spots me, but I only make it a few steps beyond her place when I hear her door open.

“Officer Hayes,” an old voice calls out. “Hello.”

Stopping mid step, I stifle a groan before turning to meet Maggie, our elderly neighbor. She’s been living in the townhouse next to ours longer than us and we’ve been here nearly a decade. Since I’m a cop, she thinks of me as her own personal 911 dispatch. Everything is a problem, people are “always watching her”, and anything that breaks “must be vandals.”

There’s no escaping this woman.

“Mrs. Groggins,” I say, forcing a smile. “Good afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. What’s good about it, officer? My air conditioning is on the fritz but Reid claims there’s nothing wrong.” She waggles her bony finger toward the front office, scowling fiercely. “I should move someplace nicer. Perhaps I would be treated better. I’ve been a reliable tenant for nineteen years and I get no thanks for it.”

Same story, different day.

And it’s always me who gets stuck talking to the grumpy old woman.

“Want me to send Travis over to take a look at it. He’s not an HVAC guy, but it could be faulty wiring. You know he’s handier than me.”

She grimaces at the mention of Travis. It’s no secret she hates my roommate.

“I’ll just ask Brayden,” Maggie says, shaking her head. “He’s a sweet boy.” Then she looks toward our townhouse. “Speaking of children, who’s the little girl?”

There’s nothing little about Savvy.

She’s turned from little girl to stunning woman in the blink of an eye. But I don’t miss the judgment in Maggie’s tone.

“You remember Charlie and Serena? They came over a time or two for Travis’s parties. It’s their daughter.”

“What do they think about her moving in with you two? Are the three of you having an untoward relationship?”

I gape at her in horror. “W-What? No. They died and she went to a foster home. Now that she’s eighteen, she has nowhere to go. We’re helping her out until she gets on her feet.”

Maggie narrows her eyes at me. “Hmph.”

It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me, but I honestly don’t care. The old woman is judgmental and rude. We tolerate her. Barely.

“Mrs. Groggins,” I say with a huff of exasperation, “I need to pay Reid a visit. I’ll tell him about your AC.”

Before she can continue this irritating conversation, I stride down the sidewalk hastily, eager to get out of earshot. I nearly plow over Derek from unit two who’s coming out of his door, still dressed in his brown work uniform.

“She’s out for blood,” I mutter under my breath to him.

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