7. Chapter Seven
I could only stare, my chest tightening as I took in the bedroom. The bed and a single dresser with a lamp on top were the only pieces of furniture in the room, and I was unsure how the dresser drawers could possibly open, crammed into the space as it was with the bed. Narrow strips of exposed carpet on two sides of the bed provided the only walking space.
Grey stepped into the room, pressing against the pink striped wallpaper to fit. “It’s a… beautiful bed.” He cleared his throat, doing his best to look at anything besides the bed dominating the room.
I snorted and covered it with a cough as I followed Grey into the room, placing my bag and backpack on the bed and trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. We both hovered in the doorway, only a few inches separating us as we continued to stare at the bed. “Beautiful” was not the word I would have used. It looked like a Victorian child’s dreams had thrown up.
“I’m glad you love it! We even added a door into the bathroom to make things more comfortable.” Dot gestured to a door hidden in the corner that I’d missed upon first inspection. “I know it’s not ideal, the two of you sharing a room, but it’s what we have. The couch in the front room is too small and lumpy for anyone to sleep on, unless it’s Hank after a fight.”
She gave us a mischievous smile before stepping back into the hall.
“If you two need anything, just holler. And don’t worry, the walls are thick.” Dot gave an exaggerated wink and closed the door behind her with a click.
I lost it, nervous laughter bubbling out as soon as the door was closed. I was one setback or unexpected twist away from losing my sanity completely. Also, if Dot knew we were just friends, what was that last comment?
“What does she think we’re going to do? Even if we did want to get intimate, there’s no way we could find each other in all those pillows.” My voice came out high-pitched with a slight edge as I gestured to the bed. Bed singular, something I kept repeating to myself as I tried to find a solution for our current predicament.
“I’m sure we could figure it out, if we really wanted to,” Grey said, his eyebrows dancing suggestively.
“Watch it, Fabio, or you’ll find yourself smothered by one of these pillows.” I picked up a square pillow completely covered in lace and brandished it towards him.
Grey fought back a grin as he held up both hands and backed up the couple of inches he could manage in the tight space. “So, you’re going to murder me. Glad we cleared that up.”
“Orange isn’t really my color.” I shrugged, as if that was the only reason not to kill another human being.
My laughter faded as I looked around the room, my shoulders tense as I considered how to handle the situation. “There’s only one bed.”
No matter how many times I said or thought it, it didn’t get any better. In fact, it got worse. Much worse as I considered sharing a bed with Grey, who probably was a sleep-talker or sleep-snuggler. Was that a thing? Lyle definitely hadn’t been a snuggler, and he was my only point of reference in that regard.
Maybe I really could sleep on the floor. I’d pick a strip of carpet that didn’t block Grey’s access to the bathroom, and we’d be fine. I probably wouldn’t get much rest, but who needed sleep anyway? I could sleep in the car tomorrow, assuming I could convince Grey to play the quiet game.
Grey nodded. “I think we’ve established the singular bed. It honestly might be the biggest bed ever made. I can’t imagine how they got it in here.”
“But there are two of us.”
“Right again. I think we can add math whiz to your list of hobbies.”
I ignored the jab, my thoughts still focused on the problem in front of us.
“We can’t both sleep in the bed. I’m not…we’re not…”
I gestured vaguely between the two of us, hoping Grey would pick up on what I couldn’t quite find the words to say. Would Hank and Dot notice if I slept on the couch? I could set an alarm to make sure I was up and ready before they woke up. Though, if Hank still kept farm hours, I might have to sleep in my clothes for tomorrow so he wouldn’t guess I spent the entire night on the couch.
Grey held up a hand, stopping my awkward stammering. “We’re adults. I think we can share a bed and keep our hands to ourselves. Besides”—he gestured to the narrow strips of carpet we stood on—“I think we can both agree sleeping on the floor is not an option, and after Dot’s glowing description of the couch, I wouldn’t make a pet dog sleep there.”
I bit my lip, recognizing the truth of his words as he shot down each solution I’d thought of. He was right, but I didn’t have to like it.
“If it makes you feel better, that bed is big enough an entire scout troop could spread out and not touch. I think we’ll be okay sharing.” Grey watched me as he spoke, a smile hovering on his lips. “I’ll even build a pillow wall if you promise not to smother me with it.”
“Fine, but just know if you try anything, all bets are off. I might even change my mind about how I look in orange. And I don’t care if you’re a sleep-snuggler, I have a pillow and I know how to use it.” I poked a finger into his chest to underscore my point. It sent a spark of warmth up my arm, and I immediately drew back my hand. The attraction that had been building between us all day surfaced again, sending heat into my cheeks. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feeling, especially in light of having to share the bed with this man, whom I found equal parts attractive and annoying.
“Sleep-snuggler? Is that a thing?” Grey raised an eyebrow at me, his voice clearly filled with humor.
I picked up a bigger pillow, this one covered in pink satin, and brandished it at him threateningly.
“Fair enough,” Grey said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Want to take the bathroom first?”
I nodded and grabbed my stuff, struggling past the bed and managing to get into the bathroom. The space was tight, with just enough room for the sink, toilet, and standup shower. The clean lines and modern fixtures testified that the bedroom wasn’t the only room in the house to have received a facelift since my last visit.
I quickly washed my face, brushed my hair, and changed into pajamas: a worn teal lounge suit I’d owned for years. I hesitated a moment before stepping out of the bathroom. Except for my roommates, I never let anyone see me without makeup. It had started as a hobby, one of the many my mom had experimented with in her constant quest for a career. From there it had grown into a way to cover my insecurities until it had become a form of armor. It had shielded me from Lyle’s comments about my flaws and from setbacks at work. But tonight, letting Grey see me without it couldn’t be helped.
I ducked into the room, grateful to find Grey had turned off the overhead light and flipped on the standing lamp tucked against one side of the bed. He’d also built the promised pillow wall and piled the remaining pillows on the floor, making an obstacle course for anyone needing to use the facilities.
“You done?” Grey asked, grabbing his bag and moving to squeeze past me into the bathroom.
“Yep. Be careful not to get lost in all that extra space,” I quipped, settling my bags on the dresser and keeping my face turned away from Grey until I heard the door close, the lock clicking into place.
I clambered over the wall of pillows and settled under the covers, shifting to get comfortable. I stared up at the ceiling, the anxiety of sharing a bed with Grey chasing away the exhaustion that had been settling into my bones before Dot had revealed the bedroom situation. The fact that I was sharing a bed with Grey after having sworn off dating seemed to prove the universe had a messed-up sense of humor.
This trip seemed destined to shine a bright spotlight on all my flaws and the reasons why I was better off alone, safely home in my comfort zone. If I survived this trip, I would swear off all travel for the rest of eternity.
The sounds of Grey shuffling around in the bathroom were faint, and I attempted to fall asleep, closing my eyes and hoping for oblivion. Maybe if I was asleep before he joined me in bed, it would make this whole situation easier.
Instead, my mind raced, refusing to shut down and allow me the rest I needed. At least we weren’t driving to the cabin in the dark. However, we still had several hours to drive tomorrow, and who knew when the car would be ready to go?
What if we got trapped here all day?
My thoughts continued to spiral, counting everything that had already gone wrong and the many things that still could go wrong between now and the end of this trip.
I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, wishing not for the first time I had just stayed home. Though if I had, I would have missed out on root beer milk and Dot’s peanut butter cookies. While those bright spots didn’t fully make up for the disaster our trip was proving, they did calm the circling thoughts of frustration I was battling.
The bathroom door opened, and Grey stepped out, wearing blue flannel bottoms and a faded grey t-shirt. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, and felt the bed shift as Grey climbed under the covers. A moment later, I heard the click of the lamp switch, and the room was plunged into darkness, Grey’s breathing the only sound.
I lay there, pretending to sleep for a moment, before opening my eyes and rolling onto my side to face Grey. Light from the moon seeping in through the curtains provided the only illumination. While I couldn’t see Grey over the pillow wall, knowing I wasn’t the only one navigating all our trip setbacks brought a sense of unexpected calm. Something I was extremely grateful for since the tight bedroom quarters meant yoga was out of the question.
“Hey, Grey,” I whispered, not wanting to wake him but hoping he wasn’t asleep yet.
“Hey, Audrey,” he whispered back, the bed shifting as if he’d rolled over to face me too.
The dark provided a sense of anonymity that encouraged me to speak. The house outside the bedroom door was quiet, telling me Hank and Dot had likely gone to bed too. Or maybe that was the thick walls deceiving me.
“How are you so calm about the tire situation?” The words slipped out before I could second-guess myself. It wasn’t even my car, and the what-ifs had been multiplying in my head since the moment we’d pulled over with a flat tire.
“Because I’m here with a beautiful, smart woman who keeps me on my toes and makes this adventure memorable.” His voice rumbled into the quiet of the bedroom, and I wished I could see he face and read his expression.
“Be serious!” I said, considering throwing a pillow at him but not wanting to sacrifice even a piece of our pillow wall.
“Who said I wasn’t serious?” Humor laced his tone. Then Grey paused, taking a moment to further consider my question.
“What other option is there? I could be angry and raging about how frustrating and unfair everything is, but that won’t fix my car. Sometimes these things just happen. You can plan and prep for every worst-case scenario and yet, your car still breaks down. Your brother still badgers you to move to Oregon despite you having repeatedly told him no. You’re still an hour late picking up your carpool buddy.” He paused, and the silence felt heavy with anticipation. Finally, he spoke, his whisper feeling louder than a shout as the words registered. ”Your mom still has a health scare and begs you to take her to the doctor even though you’re 99% sure it’s all in her head and the result of her anxiety.”
I released a breath. “That’s why you were late today?” My voice was whisper-soft as guilt settled in my stomach. I’d been so frustrated with Grey and his delays. I had no idea there was more to them than a guy who struggled with time management.
“It happens almost every time I go out of town. It didn’t used to be this bad, but since my brother, Mason, moved out of state…she’s gotten worse.”
There was an ache in his voice that spoke to my heart. I wanted to comfort him, to provide some reassurance that he wasn’t alone in navigating the challenges of anxiety, and yet, what did I know about comforting an anxious parent? My mom was spontaneous and without fear. I was the worrier in my family. I could only imagine what it was like worrying about the worrier.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached over the pillow wall, wanting to offer comfort but unsure if he would welcome it. His fingers brushed mine and I grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze and holding on. “That must be difficult.”
“She refuses to see a therapist, so there’s not a whole lot I can do. Just try to help her calm down and pray the people waiting on me understand. I haven’t been on vacation in over a year. Not since Mason moved.”
I flinched at his words, recognizing I’d been less than patient with his delay earlier. I currently felt about the size of an ant as I thought about how I could have been more patient and understanding. Instead, I’d lashed out at Grey and judged him for something completely out of his control.
We lay in silence for a moment, his hand in mine, as I thought about his description of his mom. Was that what my future held if I continued to let doubt and anxiety rule my life?
“Is there anything that helps her?” My voice came out raspy and breathless. I was desperate for something positive to hold onto.
I felt the bed bounce, as if Grey had shrugged. “Just time. If I can sit with her, listen to her fears, hold her hand, she usually calms down. It’s part of why Mason moved. He couldn’t handle it, the pressure of always being on call. Even now, he’s mad I’m here. Mom keeps calling him, but there’s only so much he can do from Oregon. But she won’t call me while I’m driving, afraid I’ll get into a wreck or something. I’ve texted her at all our stops, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying.”
Grey’s expression as he’d read the texts on his phone earlier in our trip made more sense. He’d said the message was from his brother, a statement that had meant more than I could have guessed.
Questions filled my mind, none of which I felt comfortable asking.
Quiet settled around us, and yet, I felt desperate to keep the conversation going, to continue getting to know this side of Grey. The vulnerable, genuine side. Yet, I worried about saying the wrong thing, pushing this moment from tentatively comfortable to unbearably awkward.
After a moment, I settled on sharing what little I knew about coping. “I probably understand where your mom’s coming from more than most. That’s part of why I do yoga. I need something to control my anxiety.”
“Makes sense.”
I fell quiet, still holding Grey’s hand, worried anything I said would be wrong, but knowing I needed to say something. The quiet between us felt loaded, filled with unspoken words.
“I’m sorry I was short with you earlier. I had no idea.” The words were halting at first and then spilled out in a rush, as if racing to escape before I could change my mind. I held my breath, waiting for Grey’s reaction. The words felt inadequate but spoke volumes about how I felt. I was sorry for the situation, but more than that I was sorry for how I’d reacted and behaved when he’d first picked me up. I knew better than anyone how situations outside of one’s control could change life’s trajectory.
His voice was gruff when he spoke. “Apology accepted. Don’t worry, though—it takes a lot to offend me.”
Now was the perfect time to open up, to share with him about my mom’s accident and how it influenced my reactions to him and this trip. But I couldn’t do it, choosing to play it safe with my response. I owed him vulnerability and honesty but felt too raw to give it just now.
I squeezed his hand, trying to say more with the simple gesture than my words ever could.
“That’s an admirable quality. I wish I was that way.” Instead, I jumped to conclusions when rides were late and threw off my plans. Plans that, admittedly, I hadn’t bothered sharing with anyone else.
“I’ve decided we’re all just humans, doing our best to survive, trying to help as many people as we can along the way.” Grey’s deep voice carried with it a wisdom I envied.
“Wandering out there in the world and hoping we don’t get lost?” I quipped back, remembering the saying from his shirt.
“Exactly. Where did you learn to be so wise?” Humor laced Grey’s tone, and I felt it soothe something deep and jagged in me. Something I hadn’t realized had been aching from the moment I’d first snapped at Grey, setting us on an unintended path of animosity.
“Some nerd who likes The Lord of the Rings taught me a thing or two when he drove me up a canyon on an unexpected adventure.” I reached for my own sense of humor, needing to say something that would ease us back into familiar comfortable territory. I wasn’t ready for more vulnerability tonight. If I wasn’t careful, Grey would have me spilling all my secrets, including dark corners of self-doubt better left buried deep.
“Sounds like a smart guy. Think I’d like him?”
“I don’t know. He has a weird obsession with talking about fast food.”
Grey snorted a laugh, giving my hand a squeeze. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I lay there, holding Grey’s hand and listening to him breathe until exhaustion finally won out and silenced my swirling thoughts.