Page 40 of Pursued By My Grumpy Fiancé
My thoughts are interrupted by another text lighting up my phone, this one from Landon.
Wait a second. Landon. I completely forgot about my ‘fiancé’. If anyone could fix this, it would be him. I hit ‘call’ on his contact page and the phone rings. He picks up almost immediately.
“So, is that a yes, then?” he asks. I’m confused for a moment before I remember that he sent me a text before I called him.
“Oh, um, I actually didn’t read the text, I’m sorry. I’m having a bit of an emergency,” I say.
I can practically picture him sitting up straighter after hearing this.
“Why? What’s wrong? You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks with a sense of urgency. I hear shuffling in the background, as if he’s looking for something.
“No! No, I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine. My landlord is kicking me out,” I finally say, just wanting this awkward conversation to be over with.
“Were you late on rent?” he asks, and I scoff.
I can’t believe he thinks I’d miss my rent.
“No, jerk. I’ve never been late on rent. He sold the building. I have until the end of the week to find another place to live.”
“He sold the building and he wants you out in a week? He can’t do that! That has to be illegal,” he says, and a lightbulb goes on in my brain.
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I have to be the worst law student in the modern world. I jump up and rush over to my file cabinet, flinging it open and rifling through the paperwork. I know I have a copy somewhere.
“Hailey? What are you doing?” Landon asks.
“Shh. I’m looking for something,” I say as I finally find it. I pull out my rental agreement and flip through the pages, looking for keywords. I find what I’m looking for and my heart sinks. “Well, it had potential to be illegal, except that my lease has a termination clause. ‘If the property is sold by the owner in the middle of a lease agreement, the lease agreement is immediately terminated. The tenant agrees to move out within one week of the notice date.’”
“Hailey! You signed that shit? You’re a law student, for crying out loud,” he cries, frustrated.
My defenses go up, annoyed at what he’s implying.
“Hey, lay off! I had to sign it. It was the only place I could afford at the time. Mom had just gone into the hospital, and we lost the house. Emma was living at Stanford. I had no choice!” I don’t expect him to understand. He will never know the desperation that comes with choosing to do something out of necessity. The truth is, I knew that living here came with potential problems. But it was affordable, close to school, and at the time, my only option.
Landon sighs on the other end of the phone. I rip the lease to shreds to express my anger. It’s not mature, but it’s a hell of a lot better than what I really want to do, which is put a flaming bag of dog poo on my landlord's doorstep.
“I have a solution,” Landon says, and my ears perk up. “You can live with me.”
“Are you taking advantage of my situation?” I ask, half teasing and half serious.
“Well, I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind, but I’m trying to help you. You can sleep in the spare bedroom again. My driver takes you to school every day anyway, so now it’s just less trouble on his end. Really, it’s the perfect solution.”
I take a moment to think about his words. He’s not wrong. I do love his penthouse, after all, and I would never find a place like that myself.
“Fine, but I want a contract,” I say, finally agreeing.
“Seriously? Another contract?” he says, and I swear I can hear his eyes rolling through the phone.
I nod before realizing that he can’t see me.
“Yes, I think it’s important for us to put boundaries in place. Like, I don’t want anyone in my room without my permission. And, I’ll need a block of quiet time every week to study. Maybe from five to six in the evening, Monday through Friday?” I’m going over potential clauses in my head, things that would make me comfortable.
“Alright, as long as there isn’t another ‘no sex’ clause. There’s obviously no contract that could stop that from happening.” I can hear the playful glee in his voice and feel my cheeks turn beet red. I’m glad he’s not standing in front of me to see me getting embarrassed.
“Whatever, shut up about the sex thing,” I mumble. “As it stands, we’re roommates, which means we need roommate rules.”
“Roommates who have sex?” he responds.
I roll my eyes and huff.
