Page 115 of Roommate
“No you can’t,” I say firmly. “I have a better one now. One who listens when I talk.”
Now Brian looks nervous. “I know you’re angry. But I had a lot I needed to work out for myself. And I did that hard work, and now I’m here for you. I brought your guitar and everything.”
“I have a better one of those, too.”
It’s rare to see Brian looking so unsure of himself, and I hate myself for enjoying it. “Look,” he tries. “I got a hotel room. How about we go talk?”
“How about you get off our lawn?” Kieran argues. “Before I call the cops.” He takes a couple of menacing strides in Brian’s direction. “You’re not welcome here. Roddy doesn’t need any more of your gaslighting.” He turns to me. “Wait, is there anything you need from this guy?”
I start to shake my head, but then I realize there is. “Well, just one thing.”
“What’s that?” Brian asks, looking hopeful.
“An unqualified apology.” I’ve been waiting for that for a long time.
“Oh.” He frowns. “Okay. Here goes. Look, I’m sorry—”
“That’ll do,” Kieran says. “Won’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “That covers it.”
“But baby—”
And now Kieran has had enough. “Get gone,” he says, taking another step.
Brian takes one back. “I’m at the High Hill Inn!” he says, moving back a few more steps as Kieran continues to herd him from our yard. “Text me!”
Yeah, sure. I’ve already deleted his number.
Kieran doesn’t lay a finger on Brian, he just keeps stalking toward him. Brian would never risk his guitar hands to fight for me, so he climbs into his rental car and slams the door.
The taillights glow red as he drives away.
“Jesus,” Kieran says, after he walks back to me. He covers his eyes with his hands. “I lost it a little there. I hope you didn’t really want a lengthy apology, because I might have ruined that.”
“No problemo,” I say. “Good riddance.”
“I’m glad he left so easily. I don’t want to go to jail for punching a country music star. But the man really had it coming.”
“Yeah, I’m really glad you won’t be going to jail,” I say, even though the evilest part of me would really like to see Brian get punched in the kisser. “Jail is bad bad bad.”
“What a tool.”
“Yup,” I agree.
“Brian Aimsley. No wonder you don’t like country music. You never said a word.”
“It’s a matter of principle. And I have principles, even if he doesn’t.”
“I almost can’t wrap my head around it.” Kieran shakes his head. “Must have been an interesting couple of years. Bet you saw some pretty glam things.”
“Sometimes the glam was fun,” I admit, reaching out for his hand. “But you spoil me more than he ever did.”
“How? We still don’t even have a dining room table or chairs.”
“You spoil me in the ways that really matter.” I take Kieran’s other hand in mine. I’ve got both of them now. Our street is quiet, because it’s nine thirty on a weeknight in January. The stars are bright overhead, and the moon is rising to light up the snow. I feel like I’m a million miles from Nashville, and I love it here. “You spoil me by being real. I used to daydream that I’d find a guy who looks at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“How’s that?” he asks, humor in his brown eyes.
