Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men’s Club Book 1)
Roommate Arrangement: Chapter 3

Art: Rise and shine you sexy mofo. Time to take today by the balls.

When people warned me against sleeping in a single bed, I’d thought the concern was overboard. Sure, I knew it wouldn’t be comfortable, but you can deal with anything for only a few weeks.

This morning, I’m thoroughly regretting sticking to my guns.

When I try to stand, every part of me hurts.

Normally, I take pride in the way I don’t look and feel forty.

This morning, I’m feeling every one of those years and more.

“Morning, family,” I murmur on my way into the kitchen. Soph immediately launches herself off the counter to latch onto my back, and while I’m glad she’s gotten over the shyness toward me, I’d prefer she save it for after coffee.

“Morning, Uncle Payne,” Bridget says.

“Morning, cutie.” I hold back my yawn as I switch on the coffee maker and try to remove Soph from where she’s attached herself like a barnacle to my sore back.

“Let’s talk about something,” Bridget announces.

“Like?”

“You come up with the topic.”

“Ah …” I try to think. “Tea parties?”

She ponders that for a moment. “Sure, that’s okay. Have you been to a tea party?”

Kyle and I used to do brunch with friends—is that the same thing? Not mentioning it anyway. “Once or twice.”

“Tell me about it. Like, what was your favorite part? Who did you go with? Were there cakes?”

One thing I’ve learned since spending time here is that six-year-olds never shut up. “My favorite part was the tea, I went with my friends, and there was lots of cake. Now, new topic—I say we have a few minutes of quiet time.”

Bridget pins me with a stare. “That’s not a topic.”

“Okay, you two,” Lizzy says, walking in and saving me. “Uncle Payne needs grown-up time. Go watch cartoons.”

Soph immediately drops from my back and runs toward the front room. Bridget hesitates for a moment before following.

“Thank you,” I say, pouring coffees for us both.

She eyes me with amusement. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

“Not too late to buy your own bed. It’s not like you won’t need one when you replace a place.”

She’s right. It’s not a terrible idea, but to do that, we’d need to take down Bridget’s bed, and she’s already been disrupted enough as it is.

With any luck, it’s only a few weeks. I’ve stayed on their couch now and then over the past month, which I managed fine. Surely I’ll get used to the tiny bed?

I take my coffee out onto their back deck and pull up the job listings. As a high school gym teacher, I’m not expecting much since there are only two high schools in Kilborough. I broaden my search to include anything to do with sports and kids … still nothing.

Goddamn it.

We’re a small town, but we’re not that small.

I set my phone down and pick up my coffee as Marty walks out to join me. “You could try not looking so depressed about living here.”

“I can’t help it when I have to see your face every day.”

“Ooh, ouch.” He chuckles and takes the chair next to me. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for jobs and failing.”

“Might I suggest that you remove the failing part?”

“Ha ha,” I say dryly.

“Seriously though, why not replace a job that won’t be high stress? Once you sell your place, you’ll have money from that, plus some savings that you cleared out of your accounts, plus you’re living here for now, so what’s the rush? Pick up anything until you replace something you’ll love.”

He has a point, but that reasoning goes against everything our parents taught us. You go to college, get your degree, and then use it. I checked off those steps. I also did the dating and marriage thing too though, and look at how that turned out for me.

Maybe I can take a time-out from being a regular adult and think through my choices. Not that I have many to consider. When it comes to sports and kids, there aren’t a huge number of options out there.

“I’ll think about it.”

It’s a nice day, so after a quick call to update our parents on the move, I spend most of the morning outside with the girls to give Marty and Lizzy some quiet time. I love my nieces like no one in the world, but they’re high-energy, and I couldn’t imagine doing this full time. Wrestling on the trampoline and piggyback rides are constant requests before we start working on building a fort. Aren’t little girls supposed to, I dunno, sit down quietly and play with dolls?

I laugh at the thought before grabbing the wrench that Soph is waving around as she runs past. I might not know much about small kids, but I do know that can’t be safe.

“This looks fun.” I glance up at the voice and replace Beau stepping into the backyard. Soph’s attention is immediately diverted.

“Uncle Bo-Bo!” She flies across the yard and throws herself into his arms. I watch as Beau pretends to struggle to lift her and throws her over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, Soph disappeared! I hope the gremlins haven’t taken her!”

She cackles and squirms as Bridget jumps up and runs over to them.

“She’s right there.”

“Where?” Beau turns dramatically. “Here?”

I flop back in the grass, not able to stop watching the way he plays around with them. He has … an imagination, that’s for sure, and he doesn’t seem self-conscious about looking like an idiot. Not that he does, but the way he’s singing about Fair Knight Bridget could definitely come across as dorky. It doesn’t take long for him to have them giggling so hard they can’t speak.

“Fly!” he cries, throwing them both onto the trampoline. Then he zips up the side and walks over to drop down beside me.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” I say. “I never realized how old I was getting until I tried to keep up with a four- and six-year-old. I’m beat.”

His smile is almost shy. “They’re a lot, but I love visiting.”

“Me too.”

“At least when I visit, I get to leave again though.” His words are calm, but his hands are twisting constantly in his lap. “I hope you know that being out here is setting a precedent you’ll have to meet for the whole of your stay.”

I groan. “Tell me they’re not this full-on every day.”

He mimes locking his lips.

“Shit.” I let my eyes fall closed. “If I lie here and fall asleep, will they pretend I’m a dead monster from one of their games?”

“That won’t work.”

My eyes snap open because I didn’t realize I said that aloud, and the first thing I see is Beau’s eyes. So freaking blue even through his glasses and trained right on my face. “Well, dammit, then. Looks like you’ll need to tag team with me more often, Bo-Bo.”

“Tag …” He stares for a second, then gives a short laugh. “Only the, uh, girls get away with calling me that.”

“Aw, come on. I’m going through a divorce. I’m depressed and shit. Take pity on me.”

“If I thought you were actually, you know, depressed, I might. But you seem okay. To me at least.” He cringes. “I’m just hearing how that sounds, and it was insensitive, so I’m sorry if you actually are still sad about it all.”

“Eh, I am mostly over it. I mean, it still hurts, but I’m more mad than upset.”

“What did your friend say? Leveling up? Evolving?”

“Evolving?” I tease. “I’m not a Pokémon.”

“What? Ah, no, I—”

“Only teasing, Bo-Bo.”

“Moving on.” His face flushes, which is cute as hell. “Yeah, so I brought lunch. Only some sandwiches, but the girls will be okay out here for a bit.”

“Sandwiches sound incredible.” I jump to my feet and reach a hand out for Beau.

Then he does something odd.

He sucks in a sharp breath and pretends not to see it.

It’s not like I was implying he needed help. It was an automatic thing.

My stare doesn’t leave the back of his head as I follow him into the house, wondering what that was about.

Lizzy and Marty have already set the tray of sandwiches out on the table, and I collapse dramatically into one of the chairs. “Your kids are life stealers. I feel ten years older after this morning.”

Marty points to his forehead. “Where do you think I got these wrinkles?”

I laugh and reach forward to grab some food, not waiting on the others. The meat-and-cheese combo is exactly what I need, but until I replace a gym, I have to be careful about what I eat. My job keeps me fit most of the time, and while I have a six-pack, I work damn hard for it.

“How did you sleep last night?” Marty asks, and I glance up to replace the three of them looking at me.

I level him with a stare. “Not interested in an I-told-you-so, thanks.”

“Lizzy mentioned you felt like shit.”

“Thanks, Liz,” I say dryly.

She smiles back innocently. “Totally welcome.”

I wave off their concern. “It’s fine. Hopefully the apartment won’t take long to sell, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I-have-a-spare-room.” Beau’s words come out so fast I’m not sure I’ve caught them at first.

“You do?”

Lizzy answers before he can. “Payne’s fine where he is.”

“Is Bridget though?” Beau replies.

The look Lizzy’s giving him is hard to read, but Marty jumps in before she can.

“That’s actually a great idea,” he says. “Beau only lives ten minutes away, and he’s got a nice place.”

“Well, nice when it’s not a total bomb site,” Beau jokes.

Bomb site or not, the temptation of my own room with a proper bed is strong, but there’s a reason I’m staying here instead of leasing somewhere. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t have a job or anything, so I couldn’t contribute rent. The money I do have, I’ll need to ration until I work out what’s next.”

That makes Beau laugh. “Who said anything about rent? I own the place outright.”

“I’m not going to take advantage, Bo-Bo.”

“It’s not taking advantage when I’m the one who offered,” he points out. “You need somewhere to stay, and I have somewhere. It’s not like I’ll lease it out to anyone else, so you either use it, or it stays empty. Sounds like a waste to me.”

For the first time since he mentioned it, I let myself consider it.

Marty nudges me. “Beau’s right. There’s more than enough space, and he doesn’t need the money since the film rights to his books got him a big, fat check.”

Beau shifts. “Yeah, no money.”

“Trying to get rid of me, brother?” The joke doesn’t have much conviction, because I’m wavering. If he was planning to rent the room, that would be one thing, but it’s literally sitting there unused. I’d be ridiculous to turn it down, but I’m also not going to rely on Beau’s kindness, whatever he might say. “At least let me contribute something.”

An idea lights up his face. “Actually, there is something.”

“Yeah?”

“See, I’m a bit, umm, messy …?”

“Total slob.” Marty nods. “Continue.”

Beau gives Marty a flat look and turns back to me. “I’m not a slob, I’m low on time. When I’m not working, I’m stressing about working, and before I know it, the whole day has passed, and sometimes I haven’t done a single thing. If you really wanted to help out, keeping the place tidy and stocked with food would actually be a lifesaver.”

“Like a live-in maid.” I weigh up that option, and it actually sounds perfect. “All right. You’re on.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Beau shrugs, then shrugs again, some of that weirdness from outside hitting him. He’s a hard one to read. On one hand, he was almost pushing for me to accept, but now he’s being awkward about it.

Jesus fucking Christ.

This is going to be interesting.