Page 56 of Perfectly Grumpy

She barely nods.

“Like, a quick goodnight kiss?” I ask.

“No, a real kiss, Tate. And I just froze until they both looked up and saw me.” She tips her head back and closes her eyes. “What is wrong with me? I should be happy for my dad.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” I say, shaking my head. “And two things can be true at the same time. You can feel awkward about the Patty situation and happy for your dad. One doesn’t negate the other.”

“Then why am I reacting like this?” She looks at me sadly, and all I want to do is make it better.

“Because your mom mattered,” I say quietly. “And seeing your dad with someone else makes it feel like maybe she didn’t. But we both know that’s not true.”

She blinks back the tears I know she’s trying to hold in.

“Come here,” I say, then pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her, smelling the faint scent of her perfume.

She doesn’t resist. Instead, she just falls into them, like she needs this more than I realized.

I stand there, holding her for a few seconds before she says something. “It’s just hard to accept so fast. Seeing my dad with someone who isn’t my mom. I mean, Iknewthis would happen eventually, but I wasn’t ready for it to happen here…now.”

“I get it,” I say quietly, resting my chin on her head.

She exhales. “Thank you for the offer of staying with you. I don’t know what I’d do otherwise. But I can’t stay in that house.” Another pause. “And since the cabin is technically on the property, it’s one less thing I have to deal with.” I can feel her breathing slow down, the way her shoulders relax in my arms.

This arrangement solves everything. Her awkwardness around Patty. The donation to the shelter.

“I understand. You need space to process this,” I say. “I’m happy to help.”

She pulls away from me. “That’s good, because I texted Pattyas soon as I got outside and told her she could have the room all week. I think she was actually relieved after what just happened.”

My brain grinds to a halt. “Wait—did you sayall week?” I step back, panicking inside. “I thought you meant tonight?”

“Well…” She frowns slightly. “I don’thaveto stay all week. I could still sleep in the game room.”

I shake my head. The game room is a terrible option. It’sonlya week.With Lauren. Alone. Nothing to freak out about, right?

“Of course you can stay all week. It’s just…” I rub the back of my neck. “You’ve actually seen the cabin, right?”

“Not exactly. Why?” She looks at me, worried.

“There’s only one room.”

She shrugs. “I know. One bedroom, one fold-out couch in the living room—standard arrangement for a cabin.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head as clearly as possible. “One roomtotal. A fold-out couch, no separate bedroom. There is a bathroom, but it’s basically one step above camping.”

Lauren blinks as she processes this information. “Wait, you mean we’ll be sharing the same sleeping space all week?”

I nod. Her mouth opens and closes before she accepts this. “You know what? It’s fine. I can handle this. We’ll set boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” I repeat, trying not to think about how small the cabin actually is.

“Exactly.” She nods, then looks away. “You stay on your half of the cabin. I’ll stay on mine. Problem solved.”

We both know this isn’t a solution—it’s a complication with a capital C.

One room. One week. Two people pretending they don’t notice each other.

Some problems can’t be solved with careful planning. For once in my life, I don’t know how to solve this one.

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