Page 83 of Dear Roomie
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
She stands and starts to approach but freezes after taking a step toward me. She twists her hands together in front of her and sucks on her bottom lip. There’s something off about her appearance, I just can’t put my finger on it. I run my eyes over her again and curse myself for relishing in committing every curve of her body to my memory. It takes me a moment, but I finally notice what’s different.
She’s not wearing her ring.
What does that mean? Did she finally leave Tanner? If she did, does that even change anything?
My mind reels with the possibilities.
“Morgan, we really need to talk,” she says before I’ve had a chance to finish processing it all, and just like that, the fragile peace I built over the past few weeks crumbles around me.
Chapter 32
James
After seeing my dad off at the airport, I broke traffic laws to get back to the apartment—to Morgan—in record time, only to find myself alone for hours, with nothing but my anxious thoughts to keep me company. I don’t know what else I expected. It’s not like Morgan is ever even home anymore.
He’s perfected the art of avoiding me.
That knowledge didn’t stop hope from building in my chest. Hope that maybe this time would be different, that somehow he would just know on some instinctive level that I needed him, and he would be waiting for me with open arms when I walked through the door.
The deafening silence that greeted me when I entered the apartment took that hope and tore it into tiny little pieces, destroying the fantasy reunion I built up in my mind.
So, instead, I’ve waited.
I scrubbed away the layers of grime I let accumulate, and once there was nothing else to clean, I paced circles through the living room. The shadows of dusk chased away the sunlight and spread their inky tendrils into the sky,bringing forth the veil of night. I watched it all pass, not daring to go anywhere else in case he came back and managed to slip into his room undetected. My feet grew tired hours ago, forcing me to rest on the couch, but even still, he hasn’t come home.
Is this the new normal for him? Has he found somewhere else to spend his nights? Is it a woman? Has he moved on already?
I’ve done my best to respect his wishes; I’ve left him alone and let him live like a stranger beside me, no matter the cost to my sanity. It hurts the most when something good happens and my first thought is “I can’t wait to tell Morgan,” only to remember that he doesn’t want to hear it. I still write it in the notes, though, ones that he will never see. In those moments, I can at least pretend that I never fucked things up.
I just need him to come home so I can try to make things right.
The sound of the deadbolt turning in the door is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
All of the air catches in my lungs as I watch that door open and my greatest desire step through. My God, he’s a sight for sore eyes. He’s dressed in his normal pair of slacks and a button-down, with his hair hanging around his glasses in a mop of unruly curls. I don’t know why, but I expected him to look different—be different. Maybe it’s because I feel different on some fundamental level, but he’s still just my Morgan.
A smile forms on my face as I take him in, and my heart flutters, matching the beating of the butterflies’ wings in my stomach. I spring to standing, desperate to fling myself into his arms, but the look on his face stops me in my tracks.
He doesn’t want me here.
My gaze drops to the ground as I fidget with where the ring used to burden my finger. I didn’t think this far ahead. Every fantasy ended with me throwing myself into his arms and everything clicking back into place. I didn’t plan for a conversation.
“Morgan, we really need to talk.” I cringe as the unplanned words leave my lips. It’s so similar to what I told Tanner yesterday, but the intent behind them couldn’t be more different.
“James…” He sounds pained as he runs a hand through his hair.
That simple motion squeezes my chest, and the weight of just how much I’ve missed him crashes down around me. I was so fucking stupid for letting him go, for prioritizing everyone else’s feelings over my own. With any luck on my side, I’ll be able to make him see that.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s late, and I’m tired.” His attention darts between me and the refuge of the hallway.
“Please.” I put every ounce of emotion I have into that choked plea. He isn’t walking away from me again. I won’t let him.
His shoulders sag as the fight leaves him, and he gives me a small nod. Unable to resist his thrall any longer, I close the gap between us with tentative steps and grab his hand, guiding it to cradle the side of my face. He shudders as I lean into his touch, and his thumb caresses my cheek. The motion is so subtle, I doubt he’s aware he’s doing it, but it sends a wave of electricity through my body, erupting goose bumps across my skin.
“Thank you.” I lower our hands, keeping them locked together as I guide us to the couch. He follows without a word. I can’t bring myself to let go, even after we’ve both settled on the cushions. Having his hand in mine feels too right.
“I ended things with Tanner.” The words tumble out of me in one long breath. My teeth catch my bottom lip between them, preventing anything else from spilling out while I wait for his response.
