Page 9 of Until Then

Living with him, temporarily, obviously, probably wouldn’t be difficult. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man that would give a woman trouble. But there’s a good chance he hates me. I’d spend the whole time stressed about it, and the worst part is the major crush I’ve been harboring for the guy.

I would never in a million years admit to Layla that I have a crush on herdad.

But Idoneed a place to stay.

My stomach twists, making my breakfast feel like a lead ball.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “As long as he’s okay with it.”

“He will be,” she promises with a smile.

Derrick’s houseis a cute bungalow on an idyllic suburban street full of shaded yards thanks to all the large trees.

Layla gave me her key and assured me it was okay to head over and get settled. So after a stop at the grocery store so I could pick up a few staples as well as stuff to make dinner tonight to thank Derrick for letting me stay here, I’m standing in the middle of the living room.

I let Wonton down, and he takes off with a yip to check out the house.

“Don’t pee on anything,” I warn him.

The house is homey. Straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie. It’s warm. Lived in. Nothing like the white-on-white-on-white spaces in LA. This is the kind of home I’ve always dreamed of having.

In the kitchen, I put the grocery bags on the counter and get to work unpacking them. Wonton sits dutifully at my feet, hoping I’ll take mercy on him and give him some sort of treat.

Once everything is put away, I return to the living room and take my suitcase upstairs to the room Layla told me would be mine. Since I’m planning to be here for a few months, I put my clothes in the dresser that sits beneath a small, mounted TV.

Wonton pads down the hall and pokes his fluffy white head inside, tail wagging victoriously when he finds me.

I got Wonton shortly after I moved to LA. He belonged to a neighbor—a puppy she’d brought home for her spoiled kids, only to find out they had no interest in taking care of a dog. She was planning to take him to a shelter when I bumped intoher, and the second I saw his sad, little puppy face, I knew he was mine.

From what Layla mentioned, I should have a few hours before Derrick gets home. Owning his own construction company keeps him busy. That’s how we met—he was renovating my sister’s art store and apartment.

Speaking of my sister, I’ve ignored her last few texts.

Not because I’m upset with her, but because I’m not ready to talk. She’s bound to ask more questions. She’ll want to know the truth behind why I’m here. And no matter how I explain it, she won’t understand. Not for lack of trying, but because she can’t relate to what I do.

MacBook in hand, I settle on the bed. Almost immediately, Wonton curls into a ball beside me and begins snoring like an old man, even though he’s six.

I browse Amazon, adding things to my cart that I forgot in my haste to get away. Then I order shampoo and conditioner from Ulta. There isn’t a physical location anywhere close, but I’m picky about what I use on my hair. Or maybe it’s that my hair is picky. If I don’t use a certain kind of shampoo and conditioner, it’ll be greasy within hours.

As I shop, trepidation still plagues me. Is Derrick really okay with having me around? And does he really want to share the house with another person? It’s only been about a year since Layla moved out with Lili.

He’s probably enjoying the bachelor life, and here I am, throwing a wrench in his plans.

4

DERRICK

There’san unfamiliar car parked on the street in front of my house, but I don’t think much of it since the driveway next door is full. Steven and his wife have six kids. Between them, their spouses, and their children, it feels like they’ve got an entire city congregating over there sometimes.

Across the street, Mindy steps outside with her Pomeranian under her arm. The instant the dog sees me, it growls. Annoyance flares inside me in response. I still haven’t forgiven the thing for biting my ankle a few weeks ago when I was mowing and Mindy, who was out for a walk, stopped by to chat.

With a hand in the air in greeting, I continue to my front door. I’m exhausted and the last thing I want to do is get caught up in conversation. Mindy is nice, but she’s chatty.

When I step into the house, I immediately know somethingis wrong. If it weren’t for the smell of sautéed peppers cooking, the white dog running straight for me would have tipped me off.

“What the fuck?”

A clattering sound in the kitchen makes me cringe.

---