Page 62 of The Muse
“What?” He takes a step backward. “No. It’s no big deal. I don’t want you doing anything stupid like living in your car.”
“I’ve done it before.”
He winces, shaking his head. “No. You have too much money to do that shit.”
I open the car door. “I have a better idea. Don’t worry about me.”
“Flynn—”
“Just go back upstairs. I’ve got this.”
He sighs, shoulders curling inward.
“Hey,” I say, and he looks up. “Congratulations. Really.”
Monroe grins. “Thanks. I’m scared out of my fucking mind.”
“Yeah? Well, you should be,” I say, getting into my car.
For a few seconds, I consider driving to June’s apartment, but my ego overrules that idea. I don’t want to be the male version of Naomi. Suddenly, Ally feels forced out of her home or made to feel like a third wheel. Instead, I make my way to the Rawlings’ house. When I floated the idea to Callie about staying with them, she didn’t respond, so I’m not sure they’ll welcome me with open arms after writing me a check for five grand.
However, thanks to Callie’s trust in me, I know the code for the side access door to the garage.
My phone’s alarm wakes me at five thirty Sunday morning, a reminder that I will wake at the ass crack of dawn, even on the weekends, until I figure out how to get a place of my own. I climb out of the Chevelle’s back seat. Then I bathe and brush my teeth in the dog wash. I stow my belongings behind neatly stacked containers labeled “Christmas garland” and head to my car before Rupert decides to play a round of real golf.
What do early risers do with themselves at this hour if not obligated to be at work?
Sleep.
I pull into the Walmart parking lot and catch another two hours of sleep. This time when my phone wakes me, it’s not my stupid alarm.
“Hey,” I answer June’s call. “Thought you preferred texting.”
“Did I wake you? You sound tired.”
“Nope. I’m actually at Walmart already.”
“Grocery shopping?”
I raise the back of my seat. “Uh, sure.” I clear the frog from my throat.
“Sure?”
“Well, it’s Walmart. You come for one thing and leave with ten. Hopefully, I make it out of here with a few groceries on my list.”
“Ha. I get that. Anyway, my parents called me late last night. They’re coming for a visit. I want you to meet them.”
Shit.
“No pressure,” she says. “It would be something simple like dinner. But if you’re not ready for that?—”
“No. I’m, uh …” I fix my hair in the rearview mirror. “I’m good with meeting your parents.”
“Great. How’s six sound?”
“What day? I’ll let Callie know I need to be off in time.”
“Today. You’re not working, right?”
