Page 38 of Once Upon a Fall

We’ve struck out on everything else. Cinderella’s out since we had to turn the bed on its side to fit all the industrial fans in the room, plus the decibel level would not be conducive to sleep and could cause hearing loss. The other rooms are in various stages of disarray, and the living room couch is out with guests checking in tonight.

“Okay. Okay,” I say. “Dominic has a shed—”

Dean gives me a look that makes me miss the straight line of disapproval.

“That was a joke. Mostly.” I wince. “You could always bunk with the raccoons. They’ve got an entire house.”

“I’ll pass on that, too.”

I rack my brain for anything else. There isn’t anything else. There’s just the one idea I’ve been avoiding, and it’s a terrible idea, and I open my mouth and say it anyway.

“You could stay with me,” I tell him, and then watch the slow turn of his head as his eyes find mine. “I mean in the studio. There’s a couch. I—I would stay on the couch and you could have the bed. Or not. Never mind.” I shake my head. “It’s a dumb idea. I’ll just keep looking for something. How do you feel about driving to Montpelier? It’s an hour away—”

“That works,” Dean says.

“Huh?” I ask. “You want to drive to Montpelier?”

“No, I’ll just stay with you.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound surprised. Because I definitely am. “Um, okay, great.”

Dean goes back to setting another plank as if he didn’t just agree to sleep in my bedroom tonight. Like it’s nothing. No big deal.

It’s not nothing. Because it’s just now hitting me what my studio actually looks like—what’s in it, what I keep there, the fact that only my family has seen it.

And now I have to let Dean sleep there.

I feel weirdly self-conscious as I help Dean clear his things out of the Sleeping Beauty room. Most of it gets stashed in an empty closet down the hall. The rest goes in a bag—just what he’ll need for tonight.

In my room.

I really need to stop thinking about it because when I do, my stomach does a full roiling thing.

Dean goes back to work on the floor in the Rapunzel room, while I get to work deep-cleaning Sleeping Beauty for its next occupants.

I’m surprised by how clean it is, though. There’s not even a single facial hair in the sink—something Dominic often left in our shared one growing up. I was never more thrilled than when I realized I never had to share a sink with him again.

By the time the sun is near setting, I’ve got the Sleeping Beauty room all ready and have traded my overalls for linen pants and a white blouse—something that says I run a functional establishment and haven’t spent the bulk of my day trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

The Hendersons arrive just after six. Dean steps out of the kitchen and, without being asked, starts carrying their bags up to the Sleeping Beauty room.

Laurie Henderson has a round face, a contagious smile, and a UVM sweatshirt two sizes too big. She gushes about how cute Autumn Ridge is and how much she loves the inn. Her husband, Brian, silently hands over his credit card.

“We weren’t even going to come for Family Weekend,” Laurie says when I hand her the key, after doing a better check-in job than I did when Dean first arrived. “But by the time we decided, everything in Burlington was gone. Every room. Except for one place called the Rest E-Z Motel. I wasn’t about to stay there after reading the reviews.”

Dean comes back down for the last suitcase and gives me a knowing side-eye before hauling it up.

“I love that you and your husband run this adorable inn together,” Laurie says, just as Dean’s reached the top stair. I see him freeze for a second before continuing down the hall.

“Oh.” I go to correct her. “That’s not—”

“Is he not your husband?” Laurie’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. “Sorry for assuming like that. Is he a partner then? I’m never sure how that all works—partner, husband. Oh my, he could just be your boyfriend, and I’m making a complete fool of myself.”

I smile at a fellow rambler. “You’re fine,” I tell her while I try to think of something other than he’s also a guest—but one who works on my floors and makes me dinner, and as of tonight, is sleeping in my room.

And yep, my stomach just did a flopping thing.

Do I say he’s just a friend? Too complicated. My brother? That’s . . . weird. Just a guy next door that likes to help out? That’ll bring up too many questions.