“ Doug’s not coming.” Megan’s
roommate, Matt—and his bag of chips—landed next to her on the sofa
while she checked her texts for the third time. In twenty
minutes.
Typical Matt; diss her boyfriend then watch
basketball.
Typical Doug; no message.
She crossed her arms. She’d had such hopes.
Doug had said he’d be here. That nothing would keep him from taking
her out tonight of all nights.
They’d been dating for three years and the
pregnancy scare two months ago had her thinking about their
relationship. Surely Doug was, too? After all, it was Valentine’s Day.
“ I ordered Chinese.” Matt tipped the
chips toward her.
“ Thanks.” Barbecue. Her favorite.
And Chinese—her favorite comfort food. She hated that Matt knew
this would happen. He’d always said Doug wasn’t the man for her. Always said it.
But seriously…that from Mr. Playboy? The authority on relationships? He’d had so many girlfriends he’d
stopped bringing them home for—what, two years now?
Megan munched the chip. Had it been that
long?
“ East or West?” Matt held out a
quarter.
She smiled. What a great housemate: Chinese
food and dibs on the remote, their typical bet.
“ East.” Not that she knew who was on
the team, but it didn’t matter. Watching sports with Matt was
always a trip. He could keep her entertained through the whole game
and not make her feel stupid for not knowing who was who or what
penalty was what.
He flipped the coin. Tails.
“ I win.” Matt always picked tails.
Megan teased him it was because he liked getting tail. But
he hadn’t talked about anyone lately.
“ Hey, Matt—”
The doorbell rang and Matt jumped up to answer
it. “Food’s here.”
Man, his butt looked good in those
jeans.
Megan blinked. What ? Since when did she
notice things like that about Matt? Sure, he was hot, but
she stayed away from love-’em-and-leave-’em types. Besides… he was Matt .
That’s why she’d thought Doug was The One.
Hard-working, ambitious, financially responsible… He was the one
who’d suggested a roommate, though Matt wasn’t who he’d
envisioned.
But Matt was Stephanie’s cousin, not some
psycho. And he’d had girlfriends—gorgeous model-types—so there’d
never been any chance he’d even look at Megan that way, let alone
make a move.
Doug hadn’t been pleased, but he hadn’t argued
either. He’d also barely spoken to Matt.
Matt had had a lot to say about
Doug.
“ Hunan shrimp, chow mein, eggrolls,
and of course, fortune cookies.” Matt swung the bags onto the table
while Megan cleared off his architectural designs. “Food helps when
you’ve been stood up.”
“ How would you know?”
“ My sister. She gained ten pounds
with the last break-up.”
“ And you’re helping me do that? Gee,
thanks. What a friend.” She took one of the containers he handed
her anyway. One container of chicken chow mein wouldn’t put her in
the next size.
“ You’ll be fine, Megs.”
Megs . Doug hated that nickname—which
made Matt use it. It seemed he went out of his way to annoy Doug,
though, to be fair, pretty much anything he did annoyed
Doug.
She glanced at him. Reclining against the
cushion, ankles crossed, Matt was the epitome of carefree, and that
had always bugged Doug, too. “How does he expect to succeed if he’s
sharing an old house with you? He’s a loafer, Megan, playing at
being an architect. If he misses a rent payment, kick him
out.”
But Matt hadn’t missed a payment and he wasn’t
a loafer. And the house wasn’t old. Dilapidated maybe, but she
preferred “charming.”
Just last weekend, she and Matt had tried to
name which symphony the wheezing heater was struggling to play.
Doug had done that heavy-breath-down-the-nose glare when he’d found
them shouting composers’ names over the bellowing
appliance.
She bit into an eggroll. Well, since Doug
hadn’t called—and wasn’t here—he lost the right to complain about
her house—or
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