The Roommate Arrangement Read online

  Memories from the past eight months threatened to replace happier thoughts, but she thrust them aside before they could fully form.

  She jumped down from the ramp, shoved it back into the truck, and slammed down the door, firmly shutting the doors on her memories too.

  Just as she was about to climb into the U-Haul, a familiar car pulled up behind it, and Kim got out.

  Shit. Of all the times for Kim to pay her a visit, she had to choose now.

  Kim’s curly hair bounced up and down as she marched toward Rae. Even though Rae had at least half a head and nearly forty pounds on her, Kim took up a threatening stance in front of her. “What’s going on?”

  Rae didn’t try to beat around the bush. “I’m moving to a new apartment.”

  “You’re moving?” Kim echoed. “When were you going to tell me? Did you plan on letting me find out when I came over to see if you’re still alive because I never hear from you—and then find your place empty?”

  Rae winced at the still alive and lowered her gaze to the asphalt. Did Kim sometimes, deep inside, wish that Mike was the one who had survived instead of her? God knew, she wouldn’t blame her. “I’m sorry, Kim. That wasn’t my intention. It was all very short notice. I only found someone to take over the lease on this place yesterday.”

  “Still, you could have called me or some of the guys,” Kim said. “You know they would have dropped everything to help you move. They aren’t just your brothers in blue while you’re on the force. It’s kind of a life thing, and they take care of their own.”

  “Nah. They don’t spend enough time with their families as it is. I can manage on my own.”

  “God, Rae. You’re more bullheaded than Mike was—and that’s saying something because my dear husband could out-stubborn a mule! Asking for help is not a sign of weakness, you know?”

  “I know that,” Rae said. Still, she hadn’t wanted to ask for help, especially from any of the guys. No matter what Kim said, she was no longer part of that close-knit group, and seeing them would only make her feel that loss more acutely.

  “Then why not call me? I really don’t understand you. How did you plan to get your couch and the other big stuff into the U-Haul by yourself?”

  “I don’t have a couch. All my stuff is already in here.” Rae patted the side of the truck.

  Kim stared at her. “You don’t have a couch?”

  Rae shrugged despite her protesting muscles. Why did everyone seem to find that so hard to believe? “Lise took it when she moved out.”

  “Lise took it? But that was four years ago! Why haven’t you replaced it? Is that why you always prefer coming to our…my house instead of meeting at your place? And why didn’t Mike ever mention that you don’t have a couch?”

  Rae held back a groan. This was part of why she hadn’t asked for help. She didn’t want to feel as if she had to defend the way she chose to live her life to anyone. “Because stuff like that didn’t matter between Mike and me. I’m barely ever home, so I didn’t bother getting another.”

  “That might have been true in the past, but you were practically holed up in your apartment the past eight months.”

  “I…I wasn’t ready.” Even now, she had days when she’d rather stay in bed because being out in the world confronted her with her new limitations and reminded her that her life would never be the same. “Anyway, I won’t need to buy a couch, because Steph is bringing hers.”

  Kim sank against the U-Haul as if her knees were threatening to give out. “You’re moving in with someone, and I haven’t even heard about this woman?” With a stricken look on her face, she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, unshed tears shimmered in them. “Why are you shutting me out of your life? This feels like I didn’t just lose Mike that day; I lost one of our best friends too.”

  “No, Kim, that’s not…” Rae’s throat tightened, strangling her words. She leaned against the truck next to Kim and forced herself not to move away when Kim’s shoulder brushed her arm. Kim was on the wrong side, her left, but maybe for once that was a good thing. At least she wouldn’t have to see the hurt she’d caused. “You’re not losing me. I promise. I just… I need some time to myself, to find out who I am now that I can’t be a cop anymore.”

  Kim took her hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to find out alone. You were there for me after Mike…after we lost him. Please let me be there for you too.”

  “I know you’re there for me if I need you. But this is something I need to do on my own,” Rae said quietly. “And just so you know: Steph isn’t my girlfriend. Well, she is, if my new landlord or landlady are around.”

  “What?”

  “It’s complicated. I’ll call you tomorrow and explain everything.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m coming with you to help you move in, so you can explain everything in the truck.” Kim’s tone didn’t leave any room for argument.

  Rae sighed but knew she wouldn’t be able to talk Kim out of it. “Okay. Let’s go, then. I need to take the U-Haul back before I go to work.”

  Kim eyed the large vehicle. “Do you want me to drive? I know it’s not easy for you to—”

  “It’s been eight months. I’m fine.” Rae climbed behind the wheel and waited until Kim had gotten in on the other side.

  Navigating the U-Haul with its unfamiliar dimensions really wasn’t easy, and her neck muscles started to protest because she had to turn her head so often, making sure there was nothing in her blind spot. But thankfully, traffic wasn’t as bad as usual since it was Saturday, so she knew she could make it to Beverly Grove without any major problems.

  “So,” Kim said after a while, “want to explain that girlfriend-not-girlfriend thing? It’s been fifteen years since I dated anyone, but I thought you either have a significant other or you don’t. That isn’t any different for lesbians, is it?”

  Rae chuckled. “No. My new landlord doesn’t want to rent to singles, so Steph suggested we apply for the apartment as a couple.”

  Kim lifted one hand. “Wait, wait. I think you skipped a few steps of this story. Who is Steph?”

  “Stephanie Renshaw. Struggling comedian, my new roommate, and a bit of a pain in the ass.”

  “Ooh!” Kim clapped once. “She sounds like exactly the right person to draw you out of your shell.”

  “I’m quite happy in my shell, thank you very much. I don’t need anyone to draw me out, especially not some smart-mouthed comic.”

  Undeterred, Kim bounced up and down in the passenger seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Rae let out a groan. This was going to be a long day.

  Steph had expected Rae to show up with half a dozen strong and capable off-duty police officers, who would make fast work of unloading everything and setting up the furniture. But when another U-Haul truck pulled up behind the one Steph had rented, only Rae and a woman in her midthirties climbed out.

  In a pair of beige slacks and a short-sleeved, cranberry-colored turtleneck, the stranger looked the way Claire probably would have on moving day if Lana hadn’t intervened.

  What was going on?

  Penny climbed out of the U-Haul behind Steph, nearly dwarfed by the floor lamp she carried. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Rae,” Steph said, her gaze on the worn jeans and the cotton T-shirt that seemed molded to Rae’s shoulders. “And…um, I don’t know who’s with her, but I’ll find out.” She put down the moving box she’d been carrying and walked over to them, giving the woman a curious glance. Rae had insisted she didn’t have a girlfriend, and with her average height and a mass of curly chestnut hair falling onto slender shoulders, the stranger looked nothing like Rae, so she probably wasn’t a relative either. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The woman greeted Steph with a warm smile and stuck out her hand. “I’m Kim Lindstrom, a friend of tall, dark, and silent over there. Yo
u must be the roommate-slash-pretend-girlfriend.”

  Steph laughed. “Yep, that’s me. Call me Steph, please.”

  “Great to meet you. I’d say Rae has told me so much about you, but if you’ve spent any time with her, you’d know that’s a lie.”

  “Hey, I thought you’re here to help me move in, not to gossip about me as if I’m not standing right next to you,” Rae grumbled.

  Kim gave her a playful nudge, which Steph observed with interest. “If I had known I’d be helping you move, I would have dressed differently, so I can gossip as much as I want.”

  Then the rest of Steph’s friends, relatives, and comedy buddies trampled down the stairs, and chaos broke out as everyone introduced themselves.

  Rae managed to sneak away from the group, open her U-Haul, and pull out the ramp. Crowds apparently weren’t her thing, and Steph had a feeling that Rae would consider any group of more than two people a crowd.

  Quietly, so she wouldn’t lure over the rest of her friends, Steph joined her at the ramp and peeked into the truck. Rae hadn’t been exaggerating—she really didn’t have much stuff. But the mattress, the bed frame, and the dresser would still be hard to get upstairs without an elevator, especially in the kind of shoes Kim was wearing. “If you’ll take that end, I’ll take this one.” She pointed at the mattress.

  Rae jerked as if she hadn’t noticed Steph standing right next to her. “Thanks. I’ve got this. You probably have your hands full with your own stuff.”

  “Are you kidding? My sister has this all planned out with the precision of a military operation. She’ll pay you to get me out of her hair so I can’t mess up her perfect system.”

  “Yes, I will,” Claire called. “And I’ll double my offer if you tell me you labeled your moving boxes, because my disorganized baby sister hasn’t, so she has no clue where her screwdrivers are.”

  Steph huffed out a breath. She’d listened to complaints about her labeling system—or the lack thereof—for the past hour. “Just because I’m not following your thirty-two-step packing plan doesn’t mean I’m disorganized. I’ll find the screwdrivers, okay?”

  “She probably tossed them in with the sex toys,” Gabe commented.

  “No,” Penny said. “Those take up a box of their own.”

  Steph’s comedian friends roared with laughter and added their own comments.

  “Great,” Steph murmured. “That’s what I get for being friends with comics. This will probably make it into a few of their routines.”

  The corner of Rae’s mouth twitched as if she was close to smiling. Well, that was a first—and almost worth the teasing Steph had to take from her friends.

  Steph squeezed past Rae to get into the U-Haul and lifted up one end of the mattress.

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “I know,” Steph said. “But we want the Kleinbergs and our neighbors to think we’re a couple, so there’s no ‘your stuff’ and ‘my stuff,’ just ‘our stuff.’”

  Rae kept hesitating and shook her head as if wondering when she had lost control of the situation.

  Was it really that hard for her to accept a bit of help? Steph let out an exaggerated groan, as if she could no longer hold on to the mattress and could feel it slipping from her hands. “This is getting heavy. Hurry up.”

  Rae climbed the ramp with two long steps and took up the other end. As she carefully walked backward down the ramp, she looked up at Steph. “Do you really not know where your screwdrivers are?”

  “I know exactly where they are.” Steph held her head up high. “They’re in the box with the brown lid.”

  “They all have brown lids.”

  Steph gave her a sheepish grin. “Oops.”

  Rae started to feel like a mama duck as she walked down the stairs. Steph’s sneakers squeaked behind her, and then the rest of the group followed.

  Most of them went to Steph’s U-Haul, but two of the guys continued on to Rae’s. She had seen them at the club, so she knew they were comics, but she didn’t remember their names, even though they had introduced themselves earlier. One of them—a wiry Latino with a careful or you’ll end up in my stand-up routine T-shirt—grabbed a moving box labeled dishes.

  “Oh, no, no, that’s mine.” Rae waved at him to put it back down.

  “So?” He eyed her. “Doesn’t it have to go upstairs?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Steph walked over before a tug-of-war over the moving box could ensue. “Just let them help. The faster it’s all done, the faster they’ll leave and you can be alone.”

  Was she that obvious? Rae rubbed her neck.

  Steph gave her a smile and a nudge. “Come on. Help me with the box spring.”

  Rae knew when she was beat, so she followed Steph up the ramp and picked up one end of the box spring. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

  “No need to thank me. Consider it payment.”

  “Payment? What are you paying me for?”

  “The use of your screwdrivers,” Steph said, deadpan.

  Rae struggled to keep her face impassive. “What makes you think I know where my screwdrivers are—or that I even own any? You’re not going for that lesbians-and-their-tools stereotype, are you?”

  Steph flashed her a grin over the top of the box spring. “Nope. But you disassembled your bed, and I don’t think you did that with your teeth.”

  “You’ve got me there, Sherlock.”

  They navigated the box spring upstairs, this time with Steph being the one to walk backward.

  Just as they reached the apartment, another one of Steph’s comic buddies squeezed past them with a box labeled sheets and carried it toward Steph’s room.

  “Um, that one goes into my room.” Rae jerked her head to the smaller of the two bedrooms, which she had volunteered to take because she didn’t have as much stuff.

  The comic stopped and turned. His gaze went from Rae to Steph and back. “Oh. You have your own bedroom?”

  Rae frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  He laughed. “Man, I thought ‘roommates’ was some kind of queer code for the two of you riding the bedroom rodeo together.”

  Claire looked up from the moving box she was digging through, probably searching for the screwdrivers. “Sometimes a cigar is actually just a cigar.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Freud.” Steph turned from her sister to her friend. “And no, we’re really just roommates. If I have a rodeo in my bedroom, it’ll be with another lucky cowgirl or cowboy.”

  Rae groaned and marched on to her room. She had a feeling that what the hell have I gotten myself into would become a mantra of sorts for her.

  Steph had just laid out the parts of her new bookcase when Rae’s friend Kim stuck her head through the open door. “Rae said you might need this.” She held out a screwdriver.

  “Oh, thanks.” Steph crossed the room and took it from her. “I still haven’t found mine.”

  Kim chuckled. “I know. Your friends’ theories about where they might be are getting wilder by the minute.”

  “Wilder than the sex toys comments?”

  “Kind of. Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Kim gestured at the pieces of the bookcase. “Do you need some help with that?”

  “I’d love some, but doesn’t Rae need you? Lana or Penny can help me once they’re done putting the pots and pans away.”

  “Rae is putting up the curtain rods, and your sister already claimed the spot as her helper.”

  Steph peered through the open door and caught a glimpse of Rae balancing on top of a ladder, a power drill in her hands, while Claire had taken up position next to her with the vacuum cleaner to catch the dust from the drilling before it could trickle down. “Looks like my new roomie is a woman of many talents, isn’t she?”

  Kim nodded. “There’s not much she can’t do.�
� Quietly, more to herself, she added, “Other than asking for help.”

  Steph decided to ignore the muttered words because they obviously hadn’t been meant for her ears.

  “All right. Then let’s tackle the bookcase.” When Kim knelt on the floor to hold the side of the bookcase steady while Steph tightened the cam, Steph eyed the beige slacks she was wearing. “Want to borrow a pair of jeans from me? You might have to roll up the legs an inch or two, but otherwise, they should fit.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Kim blew a curl of hair out of her face and smiled at her. “I have a feeling by the time you find the right box, we’ll be done here.”

  Steph let out an exaggerated sigh. “Am I that easy to see through, or are you a psychologist too, like my sister?”

  “Not quite. I’m a dating consultant.”

  The screwdriver slipped and scratched along the side of the bookcase as Steph stared at her. “That’s a thing?”

  “If it isn’t, don’t tell my clients.”

  “Not planning on it.” Steph finally tightened the screw. “So how do you know Rae? She wasn’t one of your clients, was she?”

  Kim laughed heartily. “God, no! She’d rather book a vacation on a crowded cruise ship than let me guide her in her search for a soul mate. Not that she is searching, mind you. She doesn’t believe in that kind of thing.”

  Neither did Steph.

  “So how did you meet her?” Steph screwed on the top of the shelf, and then they turned the bookcase over so she could nail the back panel in place—or rather, she could have if her hammer hadn’t been missing along with her other tools.

  “Through my husband. They were partners on the force for twelve years.” Kim’s smile became wistful, and the cheerful atmosphere in the room seemed to shift.

  Even though Steph’s family often accused her of having no tact at all, she hesitated to ask more questions. At least a dozen of them swirled through her mind: How had they managed to stay partnered for that long when Rae was obviously as bad at forming relationships of any kind as she was, and why wasn’t he here to help his former partner move? Had something happened to him?