“I’d want to pay rent. At least a little bit,” I say, my eyes shifting from side to side as I think. “And I’d also like to have something in writing. Something legally binding that says we are committing to at least a year, and that if something happens where one of us has to leave before then, we will help with that person’s costs of moving or finding something new.” I mean me. There’s no way this guy would move into a hotel before kicking me out of his home.
“Sure, whatever you’d be most comfortable with.”
“And I’d like to be able to have friends over. Sarah and Caleb. I’d want to feel like it was my space too.”
Bo’s eyebrows push together again, his head tilting. “Of course, Win.” He stares at me a little too long. “It would be just as much your home as mine. You could paint the entire thing neon green for all I care.” He laughs. “Okay, well, maybe run it past me first. But you could.”
“I’m going to sleep on it,” I say, moving to pick up my gift basket. I offer him a tight-lipped smile as I stand. “I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you.”
“We’re in this together, Win.”
“I know,” I agree reflexively. I don’t truly know whether I believe it. Right now nothing feels certain at all. Not a single thing.
“Let me know when you get in safe.” He points to the stairs.
“Between here and the sixth floor?” I ask dryly.
“Yes.” He leans back farther on the bench. “Because I’ll be sitting right here until you let me know,” he says stubbornly.
I roll my eyes, shuffling the basket against my hip. “Fine.” I make my way across the lobby and onto the bottom step before I turn to ask, “Do you have your own washer and dryer?”
His smile is slow forming but entirely optimistic. “I do.”
I nod. “And how do you feel about plants?”
“Love them,” he fires back without hesitation.
“Okay,” I say, turning back around and bracing myself for the climb ahead.
“Okay,” he repeats, the optimism in his voice echoing around the lobby. “I have a good feeling about this, Fred!”
“Uh-huh!” I highly doubt I’ll be calling him my roommate anytime soon, but it doesn’t hurt to think it over.
CHAPTER 13
Fifteen Weeks Pregnant. Baby is the size of an apple.
“Moving day!” Sarah shouts excitedly the second I open my door. Caleb stands behind her, alongside two men I don’t know, both tall and muscular, with shoulders that barely fit through the doorway. They smile and nod politely as they enter my home.
“Who are they?” I ask quietly as Sarah pushes past me. She drops a shallow produce box in front of my window and turns toward me. She’s wearing bike shorts and a cute, oversized sweater with the word Velaris written across it. I think that’s from a favourite book of hers, but if I ask, we’ll never get out of here on time.
“Michael and Levi,” she says, her voice uneven. Caleb sets into motion behind us, directing the two men toward my purple dresser. They pick it up effortlessly and exit before I can even admire their… capabilities.
“Did you hire movers?” I ask her, clearly annoyed. I explicitly told her not to.
“No!” She has the audacity to sound offended. “They’re friends of ours.”
This is exactly why Sarah enjoys playing strip poker so much—she’s a terrible liar. Hence why I had to pull her naked, drunk ass away from so many parties as a teenager while Caleb was at home studying.
I level her with a scowl. “I told you not to hire movers, Sar. If I could afford it—”
“Let me stop you right there, preggo. You can’t be making trips up and down six flights of stairs all day. Plus, Caleb and I are not exactly in fighting shape, so what were we supposed to do here? Suffer? I’ve spent a few hundred bucks on way less necessary shit.”
“I’m perfectly capable of going up and down stairs,” I argue.
She rolls her eyes, beginning to untangle the leaves of my pothos plant. “Puked yet today?” she asks, her ponytail swinging violently as she turns to me with a do we want to go there? blank stare.
I open my mouth to argue but stop myself with a deep breath. Honestly, I have been really dreading today and the multiple trips up and down the stairs. Packing up over the last few weeks has been tiresome enough. So has going through all my things, making donation runs, and getting supplies. Sarah has been here most days, and I really shouldn’t be so ungrateful. She’s already done so much to help me get out of here before the end of the month. It’s just, I wish I could have hired the movers myself and left Sarah and Caleb out of it. I hate feeling like a burden.
“Fine, just, don’t let them touch my plants.”
“That’s like half of the shit you own,” Caleb says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Happy moving day.” He pats my arm. “Can’t say I’m not happy to never have to see this place again.”
“Snobs,” I tease, reaching out a hand for Sarah. She steps closer, until the three of us are wrapped around one another like the tangled plants on the windowsill. “Thank you, guys,” I mumble into Sarah’s shoulder. “I love you both, and I really do appreciate your help. I’m sorry I’m crap at accepting it.”
“We love you too,” they answer in unison.
“Now teach us how to carry your plants safely so you don’t end up murdering our nice new mover friends,” Sarah adds.
The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Michael and Levi take my small selection of furniture down piece by piece—with help from Caleb on the monster that was my pull-out couch. She now lives on the curb until a new home is found, since Bo’s spare room comes equipped with a queen-sized bed.
Sarah, Caleb, and I do two trips with my plants while the rest of my boxes are taken down. Everything I own is packed up in just over two hours. Caleb pays the guys and waits with the truck as Sarah and I make our way upstairs for one final look-through.
“Fuck these stairs,” Sarah says, opening the top of her water bottle on the landing to the fourth floor. “Fuck these stairs so much,” she says breathlessly, bending at the waist.
“Last time,” I say, standing straighter to pull a candy out of my fanny pack. It’s stocked with saltine crackers, ginger candies, heartburn tablets, and gum—all little nausea hacks I’ve discovered over the past six weeks. None of which are helping right now. Other than today, I have been starting to feel better.
Eventually, we collapse onto the floor next to my door, on the peeling beige-brown linoleum used for the few square feet of the entrance and kitchenette. I take small sips from Sarah’s water bottle and try to focus on my breathing, but it’s no use. I suppose it’s only right to throw up here one last time.
Once I finish up in the bathroom, I check under the sink and all around it for any leftover stuff. I, of course, find another bobby pin and tuck that away in my pocket, but everything else is gone. Sold, donated, or on the truck outside.
“It’s really happening, huh?” Sarah says, patting the floor next to her as I near.