The Roommate Pact(3)

“I see what you’re doing, G.”

Gertrude didn’t even blink. The nameplate on her bright pink collar reflected the light from the hallway. An attempt to blind Claire before she went in for the attack, probably.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Claire scooted to the side and went around the dog, who rumbled a growl as she passed. “If you so much as touch another pillow with your teeth, I’m evicting Graham.”

“Are you threatening the dog again?” Reagan asked as Claire entered the kitchen. Graham must have already gone to the porch, where they usually congregated.

“Indirectly.” They made their way to the front door. “Do you see the way she looks at me?”

“You’re not so nice to her, you know.”

“She started it.”

Claire opened the door and followed Reagan outside. Graham was in the rocking chair, leaving them to take the porch swing he’d finally installed after several weeks of Claire’s whining.

Could she have done it herself? Yes.

Well, possibly.

Was it easier to badger Graham into doing it for her? Also yes.

She wasn’t a helpless woman by any means, but it was still nice to have a man around every now and again.

The trio had been roommates for almost a year now. Claire had lived in the condo with her best friend, Mia, for several years, and a little over a year ago they’d decided to add a third person to share a piece of the exorbitant Denver rent. They met Reagan, a grad student looking for a place to live, and it had worked out great for the first month.

Then Mia had up and gotten married and moved out, sending Claire and Reagan into a search for a replacement. Even though Claire had been friends with Graham for years, she hadn’t considered asking a guy to move in until he brought up needing a new place. Sure, she’d had a few drinks when she agreed to the arrangement, but it had actually turned out well.

Other than a constant battle over the thermostat and his hellion terrier, he was a damn good roommate.

Case in point—he handed over the bottle of wine he’d brought outside along with two sticks of string cheese.

“I heard your stomach growling when you passed me,” he said quietly. “And I’m not sure how bad your day was.”

Read: I don’t know how much you’ll drink tonight.

Graham popped the cap off a beer as Reagan took the wine bottle and poured two healthy glasses. She handed one to Claire. “Okay. I’m armed and read to listen. What happened at work?”

Claire took a deep breath and a long sip of wine before she spoke. “I witnessed a marriage proposal.”

Graham sucked in a breath. “Shit, are you okay?”

She glared at him. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He looked it, too. “That’s traumatic.”

Reagan leaned down to set the wine bottle on the porch, keeping her glass in her hand. “A proposal in the emergency room? Was it an employee or something?”

“No. Two patients. They’d just come in from an accident and were pretty beat-up. She was about to go to surgery and he did this like...incredible, spur-of-the-moment, emotional proposal. Like he thought she might not come out of it and he didn’t want to waste another second without telling her how he felt.”

Reagan’s eyes went wide. “If this story ends with you telling me she died, I swear—”

“She’s fine.”

Reagan exhaled, a palm to her heart. “Good. Then what happened?”

“That’s it.”

Graham took a deep pull from his beer, apparently too shaken over the prospect of anything related to marriage or engagements to comment.

Reagan regarded Claire over her glass and twisted her lips to the side. “I mean, I’m always down for wine on the porch and it’s perfect weather tonight. But that really warranted all this?”

Claire sighed. “You don’t get it. You’re still young.”

“I’m twenty-five,” she defended.

Claire (thirty-one) glared, and Graham (thirty-six) made a choking noise.

“You’re a baby,” Claire said. “I’m thirty-one, single, and without prospects. Everywhere I turn, people are getting engaged or married. It just... I don’t know. Reminded me I’m not even close to that.”

“Good thing we have a pact,” Graham said.

“What?” Claire said, at the same time Reagan asked, “Pact?”

He blinked, as if unsure whether Claire was joking. “The whole ‘backup’ thing. Remember? We marry each other if we’re still single at forty?”

Claire laughed. “We’re not really doing that.”

He straightened. “What?”

She squinted at him. “Are you being serious? I’m not actually marrying you.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said. “I’ve been banking on our deal. Made plans and everything.”

“What plans?”

“I’m planning to avoid serious relationships until I’m forty and we get married.”

A mocking laugh bubbled up. “You’ve been avoiding serious relationships your entire life.”

“How is that relevant?”

Reagan waved her arm in the air. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”