Page 10 of Dear Roomie
The twins talk over each other, butting in to finish each other’s sentences when their excitement overwhelms them. I don’t bother trying to keep track of who’s talking.
“That sounds fun. I bet you could convince him to get his nails done too,” I add with a sly grin.
“But he’s a boy,” one of them says, and they burst into a fit of bright laughter.
“I guess you’re right.” But knowing my boyfriend, he would do it in a heartbeat if they asked. “Do you think I could maybe talk to him too?”
They both grumble but hand the phone over to my boyfriend.
“Hey, Ophie,” Tanner says with a playful drawl.
My lips tighten into a small frown. I hate that stupid fucking nickname. Tanner has called me that for as long as I’ve known him—he wasn’t able to pronounce Ophelia when we met—and he knows how much I dislike it, but the nickname has persisted despite my protests. I don’t even bother to correct him anymore. It’s not like he stopped when I was in tears because kids kept calling me Ophie the Oaf, so why would he now?
I started going by James in middle school to distance myself from that.
“Hi, love.” I push the budding annoyance down and bury it deep. “Special day with the girls?”
“Yeah, I wanted to spend some time with them before they go back to school. Dad said things at the campaign office are about to ramp up, so I know I’m not going to be able to spend as much time with them as I want.”
“That sucks.” And it means he will have less time for me too. “You are still planning on coming up to visit next weekend, though, right?”
“About that, O,” Tanner hedges, and my heart plummets. This happened all summer too. Any plans that didn’t involve me going to visit him fell through without warning, and the only excuse he offered was that he was too busy with the campaign. I brace myself for the words I’ve already heard a dozen times. “I’ve got an important meeting that weekend that was just put on the schedule. You are still coming down next month for the fundraiser, though, so I’ll see you soon.”
“Right.” My voice drips with bitter sarcasm.
“Babe, don’t be like that,” he groans. “It’s only a few extra weeks. Tell me about the new roommate. Is she a total bitch?” It’s a sorry attempt at changing the subject, but I let him have it. I don’t have the energy to fight with him this early.
“They seem fine, but there was a bit of a mix-up,” I tell him with a light chuckle. “Morgan is actually a guy.”
He doesn’t say anything; silence so pristine that I could hear a pin drop is the only thing that rings through the line.
“Are you still there?” I let out another chuckle, but this one is twisted by nerves.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” His voice is eerily calm. “Because it sounded like you said your new roommate is a man.”
“He is,” I confirm and then suck my bottom lip between my teeth.
“What the fuck, James,” he growls. I recoil, not only from the tone but also from the use of my preferred name. He only ever calls me James when he’s mad. “And you just expected me to be okay with this?”
“Okay with what?”
“The fact you are living with another man,” he shouts, and I can hear something crash in the background. “Did you plan this?”
“Of course I didn’t fucking plan this. Morgan was just as confused about the whole situation as I was, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“So that’s it, then, you are just going to roll over and accept things?”
“What else do you expect me to do,” I shout, my voice rising to match his.
“Anything but playing fucking house with someone else while I’m stuck at home working to build our future.” His words are a sharpened lance, piercing straight through my heart.
“Tanner, please don’t do this,” I plea as hot tears fill my eyes.
“Do what? Point out just how much you’re cucking me right now? Because you are, James. ThisMorgan,” he sneers, “is going to try to fuck you. The only question is when.”
“Tanner—”
“Think about how this looks on me—on my family. With the right spin, this story could ruin Dad’s campaign. I can’t—”
