Page 114 of The Cuddle Clause
It wasn’t Roman.
“Doris,” I said, blinking.
She was holding a Tupperware container, her glasses perched at the very tip of her nose, and her mouth puckered like she had something sour to deliver.
“Is he back yet?” she asked, peering over my shoulder.
I shifted in the doorway, wiping my face quickly before the tears gave me away. “No. Not yet.”
Doris nodded, then looked me up and down. Her gaze flicked to the open suitcase visible over my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”
I hesitated. “Taking a trip.”
“Well.” She stepped closer, clearly not done. “I debated whether or not to say something, but I’ve had my suspicions for a long time, and what I heard today only confirmed them.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Doris glanced down the hallway like she was worried the wallpaper might be listening. “I was delivering banana pudding to Apartment B when I passed by your door earlier. I heardRoman talking to someone—two someones, in fact. And I know I shouldn’t have, but I… I stopped and listened.”
My stomach turned. “Doris?—”
She raised a hand, silencing me like I was one of her grandkids. “I’m not proud of it, but I had to be sure. And now I am. He’s one of them, isn’t he? A… shifter?”
The word hung in the air like smoke.
She crossed her arms. “I heard him mention the pack. And someone dying. And a girl named Willow who sounded like she belonged in a Hallmark movie. And don’t you dare try to lie to me, Margaret. I’m old, but I’m not senile.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to calm the sudden flood of panic crashing through me. “What are you going to do?”
Doris lifted her chin. “Roman has three days to pack up his things and vacate the apartment. He’s in breach of contract.”
I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come. Not that I had much fight left in me. Not after today. Not after Willow.
But something tugged at me. Some small ember that refused to burn out. Roman didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to lose everything—again—just because of who he was.
I took a breath, forcing my shoulders straight. “Look, Doris… I get it. The supernatural stuff can be scary and confusing. But Roman’s a good guy. The best, actually.”
Her mouth twisted. “He lied to me.”
“To protect himself,” I said quickly. “To survive. You think it’s easy being what he is in this world? You think he had a line of landlords dying to give him a two-bedroom apartment and a parking space?”
She didn’t answer.
“He pays rent early every month. He shovels the walkway before the sun’s even up when it snows. He fixes the leaky faucet without calling you. And he cleans up all his shedding. Like… obsessively.”
Her brows lifted a little. “He sheds?”
I nodded. “A lot. But you’d never know because he vacuums constantly. It’s borderline maniac.”
That got a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. Maybe a suppressed smile. Or maybe a muscle spasm.
“He’s kind,” I added, softer this time. “To me. To everyone. He’d never hurt a fly.”
Doris tapped her Tupperware. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“I hope you do think about it.”
She turned and started walking away. “No promises.”
