Page 14 of Losing Sleep
I inhaled sharply at Dot’s question, sending water down the wrong tube and triggering a coughing fit. Grey patted me on the back as I sputtered, trying to catch my breath.
“You okay there, honey?” Hank looked at me with concern.
I nodded, my eyes watering.
“That’s a good man you’ve got there, Audrey. Watching out for you like my Hank does for me.” Dot’s eyes fairly sparkled as she looked back and forth between Grey and me.
“Oh, he’s not…we’re just…” I broke off, not sure how to explain my relationship with Grey. Acquaintance felt like the wrong word, but could I claim him as a friend? We really didn’t know each other that well, but at the same time friend felt insufficient for describing what we were. Was there a word for bonding with someone while on a road trip on which all my plans had to be thrown out the window?
“I do my best to watch out for my friends,” Grey said, coming to my rescue. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, underscoring his words.
While the contact was brief, it caused warmth to fill my chest. I wanted to grab his hand again and twine my fingers with his. There was something grounding about Grey’s touch. I wondered if I sank into it, made it a more regular occurrence in my life, if it would chase away my worries and help me let go more.
I turned towards Grey, my eyes catching on his, and I paused at the genuine kindness I saw in their depths.
“You two are too cute!” Dot said, bringing us back to the moment. “Are you sure you’re not dating?”
I reached for my water, using the drink to distract me from the confusing mix of emotions I was experiencing. While I felt some humor and lingering nerves, I’d also felt a zing of attraction and perhaps something even more as I’d looked at Grey. It had been a long time since a man had looked out for my needs, and the sensation was both foreign and welcome.
“We just met this morning,” I said, needing a change of topic. “My car couldn’t make the trip to Idaho and Grey agreed to give me a ride.”
Dinner passed quickly after that, with Dot asking questions about our trip. We all pitched in to clean up dishes, despite Dot’s insistence that she and Hank could handle it. Grey wouldn’t hear of it, slipping on a floral apron and stationing himself at the sink to wash dishes. Something about a large bearded man wearing a frilly pink and yellow apron set my toes to curling and my lips to smiling.
I settled in next to Grey, drying the dishes and stacking them on the counter for Hank to put away. As I finished the last plate, I stifled a yawn, my early morning and the long hours of travel catching up with me.
“Let me show you two to your room. You must be tired.” Dot paused, seeming to consider us for a moment. “The two of you don’t mind sharing, do you? Since you’re friends, I hope it won’t be an issue.”
My foggy brain barely registered her words, instead fast-forwarding to images of the comfy, if cramped, twin bed I’d slept in on my previous visits. It was covered in a dated, homemade quilt and a mountain of pillows. I couldn’t wait to bury myself in it.
Dot bustled past us, leading Grey and me to a staircase I knew from experience branched off into a bathroom and two tiny bedrooms barely big enough for twin beds. We paused near the front door to grab our bags and then headed down the narrow hallway. The worn green carpet brushed my toes as I walked, and I examined the family photos on the walls as we passed. I recognized several of the faces, including Tory and her parents and siblings. The pictures had been updated since my last visit, with a few new faces added to the mix.
“Thankfully, we just got a new bed for the spare room. Otherwise, the two of you would be sleeping in the little twin beds our girls used as kids.”
Dot continued talking, gesturing to the different pictures we passed and explaining who occupied the various photos that filled her home. But my mind had snagged on one detail: the wordbed, as in singular. It seemed odd that Dot would only replace one bed when I considered that the beds Tory and I slept in on our previous visits had probably been equally old and worn. Maybe Dot and Hank were staggering the expenses, redoing one room and then the other in their tiny farmhouse. I hoped they’d save the kitchen for last. There was something quaint and welcoming about the dated room.
When we reached the end of the hall, I paused in confusion. I clearly remembered there being three doors: two that led to separate bedrooms and a third leading to the bathroom. Instead, only two doors greeted us.
“It cost a pretty penny, but the renovation was worth it, in my opinion. Making a bigger bedroom that could fit a couple, as opposed to two tiny bedrooms, just made sense. I know it sounds silly, getting rid of a bedroom, but both my girls have already come to visit for multiple days with their husbands, which never used to happen when we only had the tiny bedrooms.”
My mind whirled as I tried to digest what Dot was saying. Bedroom. As in singular. Dot’s comment about sharing now made perfect sense. There was one room to sleep in, which meant one bed for Grey and me to share. While I liked Grey and we got on well enough, we were far from any relationship status that would make sharing a bed comfortable or welcome. I wanted to tell Dot I’d sleep on the tiny couch in the front room—anything to avoid sharing a room—but the words were trapped in my throat.
Dot flung open the spare room door like a game show host revealing the grand prize. The room on the other side was far from spacious, though it did boast more room than the previous spare rooms. Not that we could really tell because filling nearly the entire room was a giant bed covered in more pillows, lace, and frills than I’d ever seen in a single space. I nearly choked again as I took in the pink monstrosity, the biggest bed I’d ever seen before in my life. The strap of my duffle slid off my shoulder, underscoring my surprise as the bag hit the floor with a thud.
“We decided to splurge and get a California king. We figured it would encourage the girls and their husbands to visit more often if they knew we had a comfortable bed waiting.” Dot fairly glowed with pride and excitement as my hopes for a restful night disappeared like dust in the wind.
Chapter Seven
I could only stare,my chest tightening as I took in the bedroom. The bed and a single dresser with a lamp on top were the only pieces of furniture in the room, and I was unsure how the dresser drawers could possibly open, crammed into the space as it was with the bed. Narrow strips of exposed carpet on two sides of the bed provided the only walking space.
Grey stepped into the room, pressing against the pink striped wallpaper to fit. “It’s a… beautiful bed.” He cleared his throat, doing his best to look at anything besides the bed dominating the room.
I snorted and covered it with a cough as I followed Grey into the room, placing my bag and backpack on the bed and trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. We both hovered in the doorway, only a few inches separating us as we continued tostare at the bed. “Beautiful” was not the word I would have used. It looked like a Victorian child’s dreams had thrown up.
“I’m glad you love it! We even added a door into the bathroom to make things more comfortable.” Dot gestured to a door hidden in the corner that I’d missed upon first inspection. “I know it’s not ideal, the two of you sharing a room, but it’s what we have. The couch in the front room is too small and lumpy for anyone to sleep on, unless it’s Hank after a fight.”
She gave us a mischievous smile before stepping back into the hall.
“If you two need anything, just holler. And don’t worry, the walls are thick.” Dot gave an exaggerated wink and closed the door behind her with a click.
