Page 20 of One Room Vacancy
“Sage,” I say softly. “I meant it. I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t meet my eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, voice low and edged with exhaustion. “It happened. It’s over. It’s never happening again.” She turns back to the stove.
I nod, even though she can’t see me, and retreat to my room to get dressed.
When I come back out, she’s sitting at the kitchen table. A spiral notebook sits open in front of her, a pen in her hand and a look on her face that makes my stomach twist.
“Sit,” she says.
I do.
She flips the page and starts writing without preamble, the scratch of her pen loud in the silence. After a few lines, she rips the page out with a clean tug and slides it across the table.
Cohabitation Bible
No sex with roommates
Didn’t buy it = don’t eat it
Do your dishes
No drama (i.e., no Kara)
“I don’t care who you date,” she says, voice even. “But Kara is not welcome here. I shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in my own home.”
“She won’t be a problem,” I say quickly.
Sage doesn’t respond. She just stands, walks to the fridge, and pins the rules to the door with a peach-shaped magnet. Her back is rigid, her hands trembling just barely.
“Sage—” I start, but the second I step toward her, she jerks away from me.
“It’s the only way this works.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. She doesn’t wait for a response. She just walks to her room and closes the door behind her.
I stare at the fridge. At the list. At the line between us that now lives in ink.
This was never supposed to get so messy.
But now we’re here.
And she’s not wrong.
It’s the only way this works.
For weeks, we’ve been tiptoeing around each other like ships in uncharted waters, careful not to cross the invisible lines Sage laid down. I hate it. But it’s not like I have a long list of housing options right now, and pissing her off feels like a fast track to burning the last bridge I have.
And the thing is—I still want her to forgive me.
Maybe that’s delusional. Maybe that chance is already long gone. But until she slams the door for good, I can’t help holding onto the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she’ll look at me the way she used to. I’m not ready to let that die.
The doorbell rings, loud and jarring, followed by a dramatic round of pounding and a voice singing off-key through the wood.
Liam.
I groan and hurry to the door before he gets bolder. Sure enough, the moment I open it, he grins like a man on a mission and strolls in like he owns the place.
