15. Gemma
Chapter fifteen
Gemma
Rule #18: Give prior notice of social plans, if applicable.
Spencer:
Your roomie is being a dick. Want to go to dinner and bitch about him?
Gemma:
To be clear, are you asking me to dinner to actually bitch about Rook, or do you just want to take me to dinner? There are right answers on this test.
Spencer:
I definitely just want to take you out.
Gemma:
A+
Spencer:
Knox said you're off-limits (reference above-mentioned dick moment), so if that's going to cause a problem, then we can hold off.
Gemma:
Sorry, wait… he told you on MY BEHALF that I'm off limits??
Spencer:
That's what he said.
Gemma:
Apparently, we need to bring Rook into the 21st century. How does Friday dinner sound?
Spencer:
Sounds like a date.
I put off calling the animal rescue.
For one thing, I reasoned, Pumpkin had been through an enormous upheaval over the weekend. First, she'd been taken from her home—probably even her mother—on Friday, and then she'd been dumped into the ungrateful arms of a surfer bro. Then, she'd been foisted on me, threatened with eviction, and inspected by a dog the size of a small rhinoceros. She had been through enough without immediately taking her to someone else.
For another thing, I totally had this lamb thing handled. After Rook had been oddly willing to take on a few night feedings, it really wasn't bad to keep up with Pumpkin's needs. And if she was okay, and I was okay, then what was the rush?
By Wednesday, I'd already had her fully worked into my routine, and once I realized that Pumpkin was old enough to eat the alfalfa I picked up from a feed store, I didn't need to wake up at night to feed her. Sure, the living room smelled like… hay. And Rook had a peeved expression on his face every time he came home, but he didn't say anything about Pumpkin still being there.
When I came out of my room the following Friday morning, I found him actually holding the lamb under one arm while he stared out the window and sipped his coffee with the other hand.
As I shuffled out of the bedroom and took in the sight of burly, straight-faced Knox cradling a baby sheep under his arm, I rolled my lips between my teeth and fought a smile. He had a sheen of sweat glistening on his exposed biceps from his morning workout, and the dim kitchen lights slashed geometric shadows across his toned body. I could admire that sight for hours, but Mini had ideas of her own, and she slipped across the hardwood, skittering and falling all over herself in her attempt to join Knox and Pumpkin.
Knox glanced my way, mug poised halfway to his mouth and expression unreadable. "Good morning." Mini stopped a whisker from colliding with his legs, but Knox didn't even flinch, he was so used to her spastic antics. Pumpkin stretched her neck, peering down at Mini with silent interest.
I folded my arms over my crop top, smiling. "Morning. How's our baby fluff ball?"
One of Knox's eyes squinted. "What do you mean, 'our?'"
"Did I say our?" I came to join him, stroking Pumpkin's head affectionately. "Freudian slip."
"We're not keeping it."
I glanced up at him through my lashes. "Who said we were?"
A flicker of amusement lightened his features. "I'm onto you, Gem. Don't even think about it."
Oh, I'd thought about it. I'd thought about how we were the only family Pumpkin had, and I'd thought about how it felt to live with someone who met your basic needs but never truly loved you. Never truly put you first. I thought about how it felt to be kept alive but never lived for. Sniffing, I scratched under Pumpkin's chin. "I'm working on it."
"Sure you are," he drawled.
I tightened my lips, folding my arms again. "I'm working on it just as hard as you've been working to get us out of this psychotic lease agreement." Knox shifted his eyes away from me, hesitating like he wanted to say something. Since our impromptu cuddle session on the couch, Knox had been more withdrawn than before, which was saying something. He'd stayed busy at work, and we'd barely gotten a glimpse of each other. If I hadn't been acutely aware of our bizarre situation, it would have been easy to imagine I didn't even have a roommate. But his hesitation just now had been more than just his usual reticence to interact. That had been something else.
I shifted around him to catch his eyes. "What was that?"
Knox took another sip of his coffee before admitting, "I am working on it, actually."
"And why does that sound like a confession?" I asked skeptically.
He held my gaze with his steady, crystalline eyes. "I have a new lawyer, and she has proposed a plan that might work."
I drew out the word, "Okay," uncertainly. "And this is… bad news?"
"It's not good or bad news," he said evenly, but his thumb brushed the mug handle in a nervous gesture. "It's something you have to do, and I don't think you'll be willing to go along with it."
"I'm not marrying you."
Knox already looked like he was silently praying for patience. "I'm aware. But our lawyer has advised something a little unorthodox to untangle us from the predicament." He set Pumpkin back down in her gated area. Straightening, he added, "I need you to pretend to be engaged to me."
Arms still folded, I watched him with narrowed eyes. "That doesn't sound much better. Broken engagements don't look great for matchmakers, either."
Knox faced me, his expression steadier than a surgeon's hands. "Living with someone you barely know for two years and sharing one bedroom with them isn't good for anyone , never mind what their job is."
But I do know you , I thought with a sudden, swift wave of irritation. I know that you drink mushroom powder coffee and spend precisely seventy minutes working out every morning. I know you use lemon-lavender toothpaste and take vitamins big enough to choke a donkey. I know you tie women up with ropes but never go on dates, and I know the way your footsteps sound across the hardwood floors. I know so much about you, I'm surer of your habits than my own. But, instead of saying any of that, I tightened my arms and cleared my throat. "I guess so."
"The reason I was reluctant to bring this up is because I hired a lawyer and brought our story to her without… consulting you. And my peers recently made me aware that you might feel," he paused, lifting his eyes in thought. Finally, he finished with, "left out."
So much consideration for such terribly chosen words. I bristled. "I don't care what you do with your time, Knox. I don't feel left out, but I'm not exactly jumping at the chance to fake-marry you. What if I meet someone I like? How would I explain that to them? What would my boss say? I almost lost my job after lying about something like that last year." I didn't add that the lie had been for my friend's sake, but the point still stood.
Knox's expression darkened. "Meet whom? And how is that relevant?"
Suddenly, my phone weighed twenty pounds in my pocket. My date with Spencer tonight didn't mean anything special… yet. But I did like him. What if there was something there? The benefit of going out with Spencer was that he would understand if I really did have a fake engagement with Knox. The downside to dating Spencer was that there clearly was some kind of beef happening between these two, and I'd somehow landed myself in the middle of it. I didn't know why Knox had told Spencer I was "off limits," but I knew for sure I wasn't going to let Knox dictate how I spent my free time.
I breezed past him to the front door where I had Mini's leash hanging. "I have a date tonight, if you must know. I don't think it would look good if I was engaged."
Knox went after me, and I had the distinct impression that I was being followed by a storm cloud. "You have a date? With whom?"
"None of your business." I shoved my feet into my sneakers, leaning down to ease my heel into them.
"It is my business if it's going to prevent you from cooperating with a plan to get us out of our legal issues." His voice went quiet and stern, and I knew that tone. I knew that it was accompanied by a slight scowl and a flexing jaw that was more likely to make my knees weak than to quake in fear.
I studiously ignored him, taking down the leash from the hooks by the elevator. "Send me the lawyer's information, and I'll talk to him."
"Her," Knox corrected sharply. "And why are you running away from me?"
"I'm not. I'm walking my dog." I clipped the leash to an enthusiastic, entirely oblivious Mini and punched the elevator button.
"Gemma," he warned. He leaned his forearm against the wall, bending over me so closely, I could practically feel his body pressed against mine. Only he hadn't touched me, of course. He simply stood so close, I could lean back and rest my weight against him. My stomach did a double Lutz and stuck the landing. I couldn't seem to help myself, and I slowly rotated a look his way. Pale, keen eyes latched onto mine and dug deep into my very being. "Who is it?" he asked softly.
My ribs contracted with a soundless gasp, and I used every ounce of willpower to avoid dipping a look to his firm lips. "It's Spencer."
His fist against the wall tightened. "Did he ask, or did you?"
I contemplated lying, but standing under Knox's scrutiny was like lying naked under a cloudless sky. There was nothing I could hide from him this close. "He did," I rasped out.
His jaw worked, and he smoothed his hand over it, keeping his elbow on the wall. "Motherfucker," he bit out.
"But I said yes," I reminded him, stepping away to give myself air. I needed space—I needed another galaxy, really. I needed to find a way to shield myself from my own growing feelings for Rook. Living with him, whether we interacted or not, was like leaving a daisy in a pot of purple dye. It seemed so motionless, so benign, but before I knew it, Knox had seeped into every cell of my being. My longing for him deepened every day, just as surely as a white petal turned violet.
But I didn't want to be violet. Did I?
"You said yes, but I told him that we had a boundary, Gemma. We can't afford to complicate what is already a disastrous mess—"
"Oh, living with me is a mess?" I challenged as the elevator doors opened. I slammed my arm against them to keep them from closing. "That's rich, coming from someone who decorates his bedroom floor with gym socks."
Knox straightened away from the wall, his brows slashing together angrily. "You're off limits , Gemma. I told him that, and I'm telling you, now. We are not adding more knots to this clusterfuck."
" Clusterfuck? " I repeated incredulously. Suddenly my nervous, staccato heartbeat from a second ago deepened to a furious drumbeat. It slammed in my chest and choked my words. " I'm the clusterfuck, or your mother is?"
" This is a clusterfuck," Knox replied calmly, even as his body language tightened visibly. "This situation is a goddamn mess, Gemma, and you know it. Stop twisting my words to fit your selfish desires."
"My selfish desires?" The doors tried to close and I shoved against them. "Since when is it selfish to want control of my personal life? Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Clearly," he snapped, his composure finally cracking with a scowl and a step toward me, "I'm the only level-headed participant in this situation."
I stumbled back, and Mini suddenly sat on her haunches heavily, placing herself between Rook and me. Righteous anger burned in my throat, strangling my words as I glared at Knox from behind Mini's enormous, stalwart body. "I'd rather fall right off a cliff than be level with you, asshole." I slammed the door closed button.
Knox stood rigid, his fists at his sides and his features tight with fury. "Do not date him, Gemma."
I gave him the middle finger just as the doors closed.
"Do you think if I wore a Jack-o’-lantern on my head, Spencer would find me extra irresistible?" I held a heavy, traditionally carved pumpkin up on my shoulder to illustrate the improvement it might make.
Ruth glanced at me from where she sat on the floor of our company lobby, her fingers slowly twining black tulle around a string of twinkle lights. She pushed her glasses up with her wrist and studied me with a cock of her head. "It might muffle some of your crazy."
"Oh, bonus perk I hadn't thought about." I set the pumpkin down with the rest of its friends where they'd been artistically bunched in front of a stack of hay bales. Kiss-Met was hosting a Samhain Singles Mingle tonight, so we had spent the majority of our day decorating the lobby and helping to set up tables and chairs in the two-story, bright space.
"Also, it might shield your face from getting caught by Dr. Rook, which I suspect is the real reason you want to hide," Ruth speculated primly.
I planted my hands on my hips, glaring down at her. "Keep your hypotheses to yourself, smarty pants."
A ghost of a smile tugged at Ruth's lips, and she slid the lights across her lap, finishing off the tulle with an efficient bow. "Are you sure you want to piss off your roommate? It's not terribly… logical."
"Nothing about this situation is logical," I countered, plopping myself down on the floor across from her and reaching in the cardboard box for another string of lights. We were zig-zagging the lights across the foyer ceiling to make an illuminated, black curtain that reminded me of a graveyard fog. This whole thing had been Janice's idea, but the execution had turned out way cooler than I'd first imagined. I was almost disappointed that I’d miss the event.
Ruth glanced up at me, her gray-blue eyes shimmering with mirth. "So, your solution is to make it more awkward?"
" He's making it awkward," I argued, tugging on the spool of tulle a little too harshly. "Who the hell is he to call me 'off limits' to anyone? It's absolutely mental."
A waft of cinnamon floated over our heads as Janice coasted across the lobby with two lit candles in her hands. She had a wispy, black, bohemian dress over her thin body, and the black gauzy shawl she wore over her shoulders made her look like the Grim Reaper's grandmother. "I'm sensing tension," she said with a frown as she looked over her shoulder at us. "None of that. This is a positive atmosphere, Ms. Daise."
I put a hand to my chest. "Why me? How do we know Ruth isn't the sour one?"
Janice gave me a knowing look over her glasses, still balancing the orange candles in her hands. "Come now, Gemma."
Ruth snickered, and I shoved her over before standing with a sniff. "Well, I apologize that my personal life is—" I made air quotes with my fingers "—'ruining the vibe.' I'll just go get ready for my date, then."
As Ruth struggled to sit up, she fixed her glasses with another muffled snort of laughter. Cal materialized from God only knew where—he'd been setting up tables a second ago. But with an affronted glare my way, he righted his girlfriend and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Is Gemma bullying you? Want me to unalphabatize her files for you?"
"Don't you dare," I threatened with my index finger.
Cal gave me a lopsided grin as he straightened. "Has your roommate figured out what a neurotic freak you are, yet?" He still had on his green button-down and black chinos, which meant he was so disgustingly in love with Ruth, he'd come straight here from his urgent care practice down the block. He was so pussy whipped.
I lifted my chin imperiously. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I would," Ruth said, standing to wrap her arms around Cal's toned torso. "Because I kind of figured he would be super neat like you."
"You would think that, wouldn't you?" I agreed wryly. "People are funny creatures, though."
"Oh, Ms. Daise!" Janice floated by again, this time holding a wreath of dead flowers. Nothing screamed romance like the dried husks of failed date offerings. "A word?"
Ruth's eyebrows shot above her glasses, and her eyes did a side-bounce. I pulled my face in an equally worried expression, mouthing, "Oh no."
Cal rolled his eyes. "The only thing you two have in common is your catastrophizing."
"Quiet," Ruth and I glowered in tandem.
Janice smiled blithely, unaffected by our exchanges. Sometimes, I wondered if Janice would even blink if I told her that her frizzy, gray-streaked hair was on fire. I left Ruth and Cal and weaved between cocktail tables and boxes of decorations to follow Janice. She stopped by the waterfall wall across from the entrance elevator where she placed the crusty wreath on a table that had been set up with event programs. She turned to me, folding her weathered hands together. "Gemma, how are you?"
I held out a hand in a helpless gesture. "I mean… okay, I guess. Why? Did I do something wrong?"
Janice chuckled. "I must agree with Dr. Reed. You and Ms. Coldwell do share a similar trait. No, Gemma, you haven't done anything wrong. You're an exceptional matchmaker."
For everyone but myself, I reminded myself automatically. "Oh, thanks," I said, plucking at the hem of my ribbed top.
"What I meant to ask was, how are the things we spoke of a few weeks ago? You appeared to be in some distress, and I admit, you have been somewhat distracted." Janice spoke like I imagined an owl might. Her head tilted, her eyes blinked wide, but her body rarely moved. It was both disconcerting and reassuring in equal measures.
I opened my palms and looked down at the lines she had read at the beginning of the month. She never had told me what she'd seen, but in her strange Janice way, she had actually solved my problem that day. Well, in a roundabout way. Technically, I could blame her for all my predicaments at the moment, too. "I guess things kind of worked out and got worse… somehow."
Janice's lips pursed, fighting a smile. "I wondered."
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my plaid skirt. "I'm handling it."
Janice nodded once. "May I offer a tidbit of advice? And then I'll send you on your way to your date."
I frowned. "What kind of advice?”
"Well," Janice winked. "It’s about the date, actually. Your love line wraps all the way around your palm, Gemma."
I gave her a blank look. "Oh."
"So," Janice added, turning to leave, "you're meant to be bound up in love."
I choked. "Bound… up?"
Janice dipped her chin in affirmation once. "If it feels too easy, too free, then it's wrong for you. Keep it in mind."