6. Gemma
Chapter six
Gemma
Rule #14: Be reasonable, you fucking tyrant.
I let French techno-pop soothe away my worries. It blasted in my ears, and I cranked up the bass setting on my headphones, drowning out any possibility of thoughts or feelings. Because when I'd woken up this morning, I'd had a lot of both, and after fretting over my coffee, worrying my way through a grocery shopping trip, and panicking my way into lunchtime, I was thoroughly sick of myself.
At least I'd taken the time to set up my computer desk in the living room. It gave me something to do while I bounced my head to the beat of the music and ignored my dumpster fire of an existence. While I lost myself in Indila's voice, I worked on a particularly hard quest in my MMORPG. If my eyes and hands were occupied with my half-elf character and my ears were stuffed with music, then I couldn't worry myself into a disastrous state like I had last night. I'd slept on the couch fitfully, staring up at the white ceiling bathed in blue light and straining my ears for any sign of my roommate's existence. I couldn't believe I was living with Rook. Knox Rook. It had eaten away at me all night until I'd finally found sleep somewhere in the early morning hours.
Rook apparently had to work on Saturdays too, which was just fine with me. If he was gone, then I could pretend like I hadn't gotten myself into this mess. I could pretend that my apartment hadn't come with marriage strings attached to it.
That crazy bog witch. She'd used my weakness against me and tried to set me up with her termagant of a son, and I could just strangle her bony neck with her pearls if given the chance.
I clicked the mouse rapidly, sending a daily attack at the reaper. The monster retaliated, and although I tapped the A key to dodge, I took a direct hit. My character died instantly. I growled in frustration and folded my arms. Truth be told, I was a terrible gamer. I'd only started a few months ago to keep my mind off my dating failures, and I hadn't improved much since then. I kept forgetting spells and potions to beef up my defenses, and my reaction times were slow.
My stomach gave an uncomfortable twinge, and I rubbed it absently. I was pretty sure my period was gearing up to start, and that was honestly terrible timing. It wasn't just the bleeding, the bloating, the runs, or the cramps. It was my endometriosis. My cramps were next level—one-hit K.O. level. Sometimes my period would take me out for days, and I just had to suffer through it. Having your period wasn't a good reason to miss work, I assumed, but that didn't make it any easier to endure. I made a mental note to stop by the store and grab supplies.
A message in the game chat popped up.
Emmaculate94:
Hey babes! It's been a while.
Smiling, I tapped back a message as the game took me back to my respawn point.
GemsNLace178576:
Emma! Yeah sorry, work and life got crazy. How are u?
Emmaculate94:
The usual. Did u see the new skins? Halloween themes!
GemsNLace178576:
Yeah, I like them! Might have to buy next month tho. Had to get a new apt. Expensive.
Emmaculate94:
O for real? I hate moving. It's impossible to find places here.
GemsNLace178576:
Same.
Emma and I had been friends since May, and she had introduced me to gaming. I hadn't seen her in a while—she only lived in Portland a couple hours away, but we always seemed to be too busy to meet up. I'd met her at a singles mixer, but instead of Emma walking away with a date, she'd walked away with a friendship with crazy me.
She was my go-to cyberfriend for dramatic shit that Ruth did not get. Like dark romance novels and webtoons. She had a boyfriend that she sometimes talked about, but for the most part, we talked about books we liked and juicy reality TV shows that were making a buzz. I had my doubts about her staying with her boyfriend, Dain, for very long. I'd met him once when Emma and I had gone to a movie together, and he had tagged along, but I couldn't say I was a fan. And anyway, Emma wasn't one to jump into marriage, and she sometimes talked some sense into me when I thought I might be falling too hard for a guy. Not that I was in danger of doing that with my roommate. And I certainly wasn't going to marry him, even to get out of a shitty lease.
Christ, the thought had me raging again. With spontaneous frustration, I typed out a message to Emma.
GemsNLace178576:
I have a new roommate I hate. It's driving me crazy.
Emmaculate94:
Oooh tea. Spill.
GemsNLace178576:
He's a guy. He's cranky af. It's a whole thing, but I'm just raging over it.
Emmaculate94:
A guy??
GemsNLace178576:
Yeah. Exactly.
Emmaculate94:
Well, if you ever need a chick roommate, you can move to Portland lol.
GemsNLace178576:
Keep that offer open, babes. This thing is mental.
Emmaculate94:
HAH! You got it. I'll keep fressh towels folded. Hey, I'm going for a VL run, but I'll catch u later. Gl with the cranky guy.
GemsNLace178576:
lol thanks. Bye.
I joined a party quest for a while, riding the more experienced members' coattails and gaining much-needed experience points, and before I knew it, the apartment had darkened, my stomach was grumbling, and Mini had laid her head on my lap with imploring eyes. I pulled off my headphones and gave her an affectionate scrub. "You need a walk, huh?"
She grumbled in agreement.
Sighing, I stood from my padded gaming chair and stretched. I'd put on sweats and a college sweatshirt, and my hair hung loose down my back. In my fluffy socks, I slid across the hardwood floors to the elevator. I'd hung up Mini's leash on the hook, along with my coat, and they looked completely out of place next to Rook's sleek, black coat. He still hadn't returned home as far as I could tell, which meant it must have been warm enough to not need a coat. I glanced out of the windows to the calm street beyond, bathed in the golden hour. Rook was insufferable, but he had a point—walking Mini before dark was probably smart.
I clipped her leash to her collar, shoved my feet in my boots, and pulled my hood up. "Okay, walk, then dinner. What do you want to eat? Eggs? Hot dogs? Ravioli?" Mini barked excitedly. I patted my empty stomach as we entered the elevator. "All of the above. Got it."
I took Mini on a walk through the cute, half-suburban, half-commercial area, getting to know what places were close by. I found an adorable mini-mart and grabbed feminine supplies, pain relievers, candy, and some treats for Mini, and then we made it back just after the sun had set. It wasn't until I had fed both Mini and myself, washed up after dinner, and gotten Mini settled in her bed that Rook returned home. I glanced at the clock on my computer. It read 7:23. Late day. He'd left well before I'd woken up, and I hadn't even heard him from where I slept on the couch. I swiveled in my gaming chair as he walked into the living room. His eyes bounced over me, then the living room where I'd neatly stacked my things against the wall and out of the way, and then over to Mini who had trotted out of her bed to greet him.
Rook shrank away from Mini as she promptly stuck her nose between his legs. "Will you please call off your mutt?"
"You did take her for a W-A-L-K,” I reminded him. But obligingly, I whistled. "Mini, bed."
As my enormous puppy went back to her bed, Rook took in my gaming setup. It occupied a fair bit of space behind the couches and along the wall that led to the bedroom door. "Well, don't you look at home."
"You know what," I glared. "Your mom took advantage of me. The least you can do is let me escape reality. Yes, I set up my computer. Deal with it."
Rook's eyes lifted to the ceiling, but he said nothing more as he emptied his keys and phone from his pocket and threw them carelessly on the kitchen island. He wore the same white button-down I always saw him in, and as he moved into the kitchen, he loosened his tie. For the second time, I watched with some interest as he whipped it away from his collar, wrapped it around his knuckles, and tied an absent knot with it while he moved through the kitchen. That was such an odd thing to do. Had he been a Boy Scout or something?
"Did you eat?" he asked me.
I started in my chair. With the open concept, I could see him perfectly from where I sat, and he opened the fridge to pull lettuce and dressing from the shelves. "I ate," I replied with some surprise. Was he offering to feed me?
After rinsing the lettuce, he put a pot on the stove and filled it with water from the tap built over the gas range. "I sent out inquiries about our leases today."
"Inquiries?" I asked, standing from my chair and weaving through the furniture to join him in the kitchen.
"With my lawyers first, and then with other landlords in the area to see if they have any openings. We might not be able to break our lease, but I thought perhaps I could find a new place anyway."
That sounded dangerously fantastic. "Like, I could actually stay here? And you'd move somewhere else?"
He turned from the stove and spared me an irritated glance. "Don't get too excited. My parents have their garrote of influence around nearly every real estate operation in this area. I'm getting radio silence from potential landlords."
I winced, leaning against the island counter to watch him as he opened a package of chicken, rinsed it, and deposited it in the pot of water. My stomach gave a painful, twisting cramp, and I cursed my body. Why did my period have to start now of all times? It was hella awkward as it was sharing a space with this microchip of a personality. "So, unless it's a hotel, you're kind of stuck?"
"Seems that way. The lawyers weren't feeling optimistic, either." He threw away the chicken container and washed his hands at the sink as he talked. "My mother knows what she's doing. She's been in this business for decades. I'm not surprised that she would find a way to force me into matrimony, but she used her resources wisely."
He turned off the water, flicked his hands, and then reached over to use a towel that hung from the oven door. It fell to the floor in an unceremonious slump, and he ignored it. As he worked, I noticed that he was a little… well, messy. The chicken container was still sticking half out of the trash can, water had splattered all over the stove, and after he ripped off the seal around the salad dressing, he left the paper on the counter. Also, he'd put the chicken in the water before it had boiled. The guy was weird.
I tried to ignore his cooking habits and cocked my head. "What are you saying, Rook?"
He paused in the middle of lifting a cutting board from a cabinet, rotated slowly, and gave me an icy stare. "Do you know my name?"
My heart gave a nervous leap. Why was he looking at me so intently? "Yeah."
"Then do me a favor and don't talk to me like one of my colleagues in my house." He slapped the cutting board down on the island across from me. "It's Knox."
"Yeah, but that's a terrible name."
"I don't disagree, but it's still my name." He cut into the bunch of lettuce with sure, swift strokes. "As I was saying, I think we might be stuck."
"Stuck," I echoed.
"Either we get married," he elaborated, lifting the knife, "or we live together for two years."
My mouth opened, but no words emerged.
Rook—Knox—stared back, and his mouth twitched dangerously close to a smirk. "You're horrified."
"Appalled," I agreed.
He shrugged one shoulder and finished cutting the lettuce into uneven shreds that made my fingers itch to take the knife from him. "The contracts were weirdly airtight. You wouldn't think that a person could stipulate things like that, but American legalities are unfortunately twisted in all the wrong directions. My mother's lawyers knew it. Mother used it. Here we are."
"Can't we… appeal to her? Maybe just ask if she'll nullify the contracts?" My hands curled into balls on the counter. This couldn't be happening. Sure, the apartment was great, but not if I had to live with Dr. Cyborg.
Rook expelled a breath that was one beat away from a rueful laugh. "No. Try if you like, but no. She did this on purpose. She's not going to undo it when she's gotten exactly what she wanted."
I scowled. "She's hoping we'll pair up, right?"
Rook's eyes flitted up to mine momentarily. "Yes."
"Well, that's not happening," I said acidly.
Rook scooped up the lettuce and deposited it in a wooden salad bowl. With a whiff of amusement, he said, "Agreed. But she won't believe that until the contract ends."
"Bog witch," I muttered. I slid onto one of the bar-height, padded chairs.
Rook pressed his lips like he was fighting a smile. "Bog witch, huh?"
"Sorry, I know it's your mom, but—"
"No, it's accurate." He spared me an actual half-smile before moving away to the fridge to gather more ingredients. I'd never seen a more scattered way to make a salad in my life. Why hadn't he pulled out the tomatoes and cucumbers with the lettuce? Why was he boiling the chicken instead of pan-searing it? Was he just going to leave all those lettuce particles on the white marble countertop?
"So, wait," I kneaded between my eyebrows, trying to wrap my head around this situation. "You want me to live with you in a one-bedroom apartment for two years?" I shifted my weight on the chair, uncomfortable because I was so short that I couldn't rest my feet on anything.
"No." Rook sliced into the tomato calmly. "I want you to marry me."
I fell off the chair.
"Gemma." Rook dropped his knife and came around the island, but I held up a hand.
On my ass and reeling, I struggled to find my feet. "Fucking hell."
He leaned his elbow on the island, staring down at me with raised eyebrows. "Don't be so dramatic."
"I'm not dramatic, I'm short, and your chairs are made for an NBA team." I pulled myself to my feet, and Mini ran over, shoving her nose into my hand and snuffling around me in concern. I patted her head absently but fixed Rook with a crazed look. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
He straightened again, going back to cutting his tomato. "I said we should get married. It's the fastest, easiest way out of this. There's only a three-day waiting period after getting a marriage license, so we could have this solved in as few as two weeks and go our separate ways easily." He paused, looking up in thought. "Although, divorce does take a few months. You might be married to me for the better part of this year and next, but that's not so ba—"
"Absolutely not," I said with a rueful laugh.
He gave me a blank look. "Why not?"
"Are you serious?" I planted both my palms on the island and leaned forward for emphasis. "Marriage? To get out of a lease?"
"It's not real," he said dismissively. He finished cutting the tomato and moved on to the cucumber.
"You didn't rinse those," I pointed out.
Rook glared. "Gemma. Marriage is the fastest way out of this mess. Just agree to it, and I'll take care of everything. You can even keep this apartment as an apology gift."
A whole ass house was a pretty great gift, but… marriage? I didn't care that it wasn't real. It would be real enough to me. The divorce would be real, too, and who was to say that would go smoothly? What if I met someone in the middle of all this? What did that say about marriage and love and everything I stood for personally and professionally? What might that mean for my reputation? If any of my clients found out I'd been married for mere months and then divorced, they would never trust me.
I shook my head. "No. I'm not doing that. I make a living finding true love for people."
"Don't be difficult." Rook swiped his knife across the cutting board, and it scraped over my nerves just as badly as this conversation. "I'll go on Monday and get the license. We'll need a prenup, of course, but I can have the lawyers—"
"No." I pushed away from the counter and walked back across the living room. Mini followed, her collar jingling and nails tapping across the hardwood until we hit the dark blue rug in the living room. I plunked myself in my chair, snapped my headphones over my ears, and pulled up the loading screen for my game.
My chair spun around suddenly, and Rook leaned his hands on the arms of my chair. He hooked me with a steely cold glare. "Gemma Daise. Do not walk away from me when we're in the middle of a conversation."
My heart clenched, and I pressed myself back into the chair. Scary. Kinda sexy. "Or what?"
The chair creaked as he tightened his hands around the armrests. "Or I'll change the Wi-Fi password."
I squinted. "That's low." Then I slid a look toward my dog who sat calmly on her haunches and watched the exchange like we were her favorite reality TV show. "What, you're not going to bite his ankles?" Mini chuffed, turning away from us to go lie down. "Wow, et tu, Brute?"
Rook ducked his head to catch my attention again. "Don't walk away from me." He had rolled up his white shirt to his elbows, and I glanced down, taking in the veins along his forearms and the way his arms flexed as he held his weight over me.
Cologne and the crisp scent of cucumber filled my senses, and I swallowed against a dry mouth before lifting my eyes to his again. "How about skipping? Can I skip away?"
His jaw ticked. "Prohibited."
"Dancing?"
"Maybe. Are you any good?"
I grinned. "Want to see?"
"No. Marry me, Gemma."
My breath caught in my lungs, and I sipped in a surprised breath. "You can't just say things like that. It's mental."
Rook didn't put even an inch of distance between us. "Stop being contrary."
"Self-improvement isn't really my thing." I swept a look over his tidy blond hair, down to the creases around his tired eyes, and to his lips. Goddamn, this man was gorgeous. It was horribly unfair. Was this the only proposal I would get in my life? A fake one from an unattainably beautiful man with the manners of a surly honey badger?
"I'll fix that," he promised, standing. But the distance did nothing for my pounding heart because the way he stared down at me with that unflinching, flawless expression had my stomach doing pirouettes. "Think about what I said. I want an answer tomorrow."
"I gave you an answer."
Rook's implacable calm took on a scalpel-sharp edge. "The right answer."