Page 28 of The Loophole
The guest room was gorgeous, like the rest of the house. It had pale blue walls, dark wood furniture, and a big bed with fluffy pillows and blue-on-blue bedding. There was also a comfortable-looking upholstered chair and matching ottoman, a window seat, and a small fireplace, which helped it seem cozy. It made me think of a fancy bed and breakfast. Not that I’d ever stayed in one, but I could imagine.
“Please feel free to change it,” he said. “Do whatever it takes for you to feel comfortable here.”
I murmured, “It’s perfect.”
“Your bathroom is through there.” Bryson gestured at a closed door. “I made sure there were fresh towels before we left for Las Vegas.” He looked around and said, “I feel like there’s a bunch more stuff I should be telling you, but that’s all I can think of right now.”
“This is great. Really.”
“Okay. I’m going to bring up the rest of your stuff. Be right back.”
With that, he hurried out of the room, and I hugged my dog to my chest. It was surprising that Bryson seemed as nervous as I felt. But then, this was almost as big a change for him as it was for me, since he was letting someone he barely knew into his home. He seemed to like structure and routine, and we both knew I was going to throw that off in a big way.
After he returned and stacked the boxes on the floor, he asked, “Would you like some help unpacking?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” We both hesitated for a moment, unsure about what to do next. Then I pointed at the door andsaid, “I’m going to close this, so Dusty will stay in here with me.” The dog was squirming in my arms and more than ready to be set free.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll keep my phone on me, so send a text if you need anything. Oh, and I’m going to have some groceries delivered. Any requests?”
“I’d like some cereal, any kind that seems like it was made for a six-year-old.” I fished some money out of my pocket and tried to give it to him, but he stepped back and held his hands up, as if I’d pulled a gun on him.
“Meals and groceries are part of our deal,” he reminded me.
“But I can buy my own stuff.”
“It’s going to get too complicated if we start down that path. What am I going to do, charge you for an egg and a slice of bread if you make yourself breakfast? Just let me cover all the food.”
“You’re very stubborn.”
“I’m also right. It’s best to keep this as simple and straightforward as possible.” There was no point in arguing, because I was never going to win.
After Bryson went downstairs, I shut the door and put the dog down. Dusty immediately started running around and sniffing everything. I opened one of the boxes, gave him his squeaky toy, and set up his fluffy fleece bed. Then I filled his water bowl in the bathroom and put it on the floor next to the sink, and the dog was basically all set.
It didn’t take much longer than that for me to move in. I didn’t have a lot of stuff to begin with, and I hadn’t brought everything I owned with me. I wasn’t giving up my room in the Pink Victorian, and I planned on spending plenty of time over there, so it made sense to only bring what I thought I’d need.
Once I finished unpacking, I debated what to do with the flattened boxes and ended up stashing them in the back of the closet. It made sense to hang on to them, since I was going toneed them again a year from now—or sooner, if his family saw right through our sham of a marriage.
Now that I was officially out of stuff to do, I curled up on the window seat and looked around. My Vegas bear sat on the mattress with two more stuffed animals, my favorite sketchbook was on the dresser, and Dusty was in his dog bed, happily gnawing on his toy. Those things should have helped me feel at home. I really wanted to relax, but instead, I was on edge.
It wasn’t just that I felt like a visitor. I’d been able to relax at the hotel, but here I was afraid of doing something wrong, of messing up this perfect home, of making Bryson mad or upset—although he’d already proven he was incredibly patient.
This was definitely a “me” problem. I didn’t trust myself in a place like this.
Maybe an hour later, I was sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone when Dusty came over to me and started doing his “I need to go out” dance. I scooped him up, and when I went downstairs, I discovered Bryson in the kitchen, tracing circles onto a sheet of parchment paper.
As I opened the back door and let the dog out, I asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Getting everything ready for our macaron lesson.” He moved a glass and ran a pencil around its base, creating another perfect circle. “It helps to have a template when you’re piping the cookies. That way, they’ll all end up the same size.” He turned the finished sheet over and added it to a small stack beside him.
“You remembered that you promised to teach me!”
“Of course. I bought all the ingredients with our grocery order, so everything’s ready whenever you are. We don’t have to do it today if you’re too tired, or?—”
“Actually, I’d love to do it right now, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Give me a minute, and I’ll get everything set up.”
He pulled a slate gray KitchenAid mixer out of a cabinet, and as he plugged it in I said, “I can’t believe you keep that hidden away. I’ve always wanted one of those in pink, and if I had one, I’d display it proudly.”