Page 11 of Only You

Four

Jack brought in the last bag and added it to the pile in his living room.

“Is that it?” Kayla asked.

“Yes.” Even with regular exercise, Jack was out of breath from hauling her bags inside. “Did you leave anything in your apartment?”

“Very funny,” Kayla said.

“I’m serious.”

Kayla placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “You want it to look like I live here, right?”

“Right.” He just hadn’t expected there’d be this much stuff.

“I’ll unpack and put everything away,” Kayla said.

“Do you want help?”

She shook her head. “You’ve done enough. Just go about your normal routine. Pretend I’m not here.”

There wasn’t anything normal about this. “The master bedroom and bathroom are right down the hall.” He pointed toward his bedroom.

“I know where it is. I’ve been in your bedroom before, remember?”

He racked his brain but couldn’t recall when. How could I forget something like that?

“It was your July 4th party,” she prompted. “You were drunk, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

He scowled at her. “I was not drunk.”

She raised her eyebrows. “At one point, you came out of your bedroom wearing a patriotic Speedo. I was the one who marched you back into your bedroom and made you change.”

“You’re making that up!” He had a vague recollection of wearing the Speedo, but he didn’t recall her part in it.

“Anyway, that was the only time I was in your bedroom,” Kayla concluded.

He still couldn’t believe she’d be living with him for the next six weeks. It was daunting and exciting at the same time.

Kayla broke into his thoughts. “Just because I put my stuff in your room, that doesn’t mean I’m sleeping in there.”

“I thought we covered this already.”

“Your parents won’t know the difference unless they have a bad habit of sneaking into your condo in the middle of the night.”

He glanced at the stairs. “So you’d rather lug your stuff up and down the stairs every day?”

She sighed. “I’d rather not be here at all, Jack, yet here I am.”

He didn’t expect her to be ecstatic, but it still stung.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, like she was trying to convince them both.

“Go ahead and unpack, and I’ll read or watch TV or something.”

“What do you usually do on a Saturday afternoon?”

“It depends on the day, and whether I’m alone or not.”