Epilogue
Brach
“Remind me. Why are we all going to sit in Jones’ backyard in the middle of the day on a Wednesday?” Ronny asked.
Rebecca had just had her least favorite time of day, tummy time, and we were having tea next door. But it wasn’t just tea, it was an intel mission, and my mate didn’t understand why Jones and I were so excited about it.
“Because we’re nosy.” I picked Rebecca up off the changing table. “Right, sweet girl? We’re nosy, nosy, nosy.”
She was already starting to fall asleep. We were on borrowed time if she was going to eat first, which was the only way she’d have a decent nap.
“Let’s get out there quickly, though, so I can start feeding her before she gets fussy. I don’t want to miss a moment of the action because I’m pacing with our sweet girl to console her for my own failings.”
Parent guilt was no joke. She cried—I questioned what I did wrong. She was fussy? I wasn’t attentive enough. The healer assured me it was postpartum hormones and would even out. Please let that be true.
My mate rolled his eyes at my hyper-fixation on our new neighbors. It wasn’t that I wished that the inn had been open when I got here or anything like that. Its not being open was how I found my mate and fell in love. It sucked for those involved, but, for me, it was a gift.
Jones had been filling me in on all the drama, and now I was vested.
A distant cousin with the same last name as the owners who inherited the place decided to sell it.
The problem with that being, it wasn’t theirs.
Somehow the sale went through, despite the title search.
When the dust settled, there were fines, payouts from the title company, family drama that ended up on the local news, and still some criminal charges pending.
But today, the new owners were moving in.
It wasn’t the person who had hired me. He’d been paid out by the title company because it had been their mistake to catch and they didn’t.
According to Jones’ sources, he didn’t care.
He took the money and bought a new property in another state.
He was just someone who watched too many “make your dreams come true, be a property owner” kind of shows.
To him, it had never been about the location, which was good because the stepson of the former owner who was the actual owner, was excited to take it over.
At least that was what Jones had been able to piece together.
Jones was already out at his table, the teapot full, the cups laid out, along with some cookies he’d picked up from one of the local bakeries, and Leroy underneath, guarding the ground from potential crumbs.
“Are you joining us today, Ronny?”
“I have to. Apparently, we’re part of a real-life drama.” He kissed the top of my head. “He’s married to a real-life star and prefers to watch reality shows in the wild.”
His movie had taken off, and he did have star power.
Production companies pestered his agent on the regular and he hadn’t officially quit the business as he’d planned.
He was currently looking at each potential project one by one and deciding what to do.
He didn’t accept much. There was a Christmas special he’d be filming in New York—a trip we were turning into a family vacation—and a series of commercials for a nonprofit he believed in, but not much else.
Ronny was all about his family.
And he was having a great time getting that theater group going strong.
Jones poured tea for all three of us. As I settled Rebecca to my chest to eat her lunch, the action began.
It started with a moving van. Ronny named it Bob because, apparently, Bob was the best name for moving vans.
Next came an SUV at least fifteen years old, and out came a man who appeared to be around my mate’s and my age.
He didn’t stay outside long, but that didn’t keep us from having our eyes focused on the property.
“What do you think? Was that the owner in the SUV, or do you think they hired a cleaning crew?” I whispered.
Jones shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’re not going to be able to hear you from here, so no need to whisper.”
Fair.
“Our best bet is if your mate would shift and, like, sneak over there and use his supersonic powerful ears to figure out what’s going on.”
“I don’t have supersonic powerful ears. That’s the stuff of books.” Ronny grabbed a cookie and took a huge bite of it. “Mine are just better than yours.”
“Do you hear that, Rebecca? That’s what we call being humble. They’re just better than ours. They’re supersonic powerful ears, and you might have them too.”
They weren’t supersonic. But being silly like this as we were making up stories about what was happening next door was fun.
Later, we’d go over with a spaghetti bake I made. It was still my best recipe. Jones would bring a box of bakery cookies and Leroy, of course.
We’d offer to help and then if the vibe was right, I’d tell them all the theories we had about Bob the van. Bob was actually a robot, you see, one ready to swoop in and save the day.
It was accurate to say we were all silly and sleep deprived, but more than that, we were happy.
Ronny and I had our new home, our adopted grandpa, a workplace filled with more aunts and uncles for our sweet baby Rebecca than anyone could ask for, and he was able to enjoy his love of theater while being the father he wanted to be.
We were living the dream. It might not be the one any of us had been planning, but it was so much better.
“I hope our new neighbor is as happy here as we are.”
Rebecca had fallen asleep, and Ronny took her, settling her in his arms and slowly swaying to help her stay asleep.
“I think they will,” Jones said. “How could they not? They have a van named Bob.”
And, really, who could argue with that logic?
Thank you for reading A Roommate for Ronny. The gang at Animals is always growing, with the magic of Karma coming into play. To keep up with them all, one-click the nest in series: A Pact for Porter and A Pact for Angus today.