The hidden arguments. The passive-aggressive insults. The petty bickering and backstabbing they did, all to avoid gettingdivorcedand bringing shame to the Rook family name. And all the while, they'd drip-fed their poison to Arabella and me until we'd been so sick to our stomachs over the thought offamily, there wasn't a chance in hell we'd make any of our own.
"Then, I will go see them," she said stiffly.
I gestured to the door with my health bar. "By all means. I hear there's something supernatural about the place. I wish you luck, Mother."
"Knox, when did you become so—so—" She grappled for the right word, her gaze fluttering away in frustration.
"Independent?" I supplied. "I believe you taught me that."
Silvia Rook stared me down with a mixture of irritation and resignation in her gaze. "You will continue the Rook name, Knox."
Like hell, I would. "If you say so," I murmured.
"I'll be in touch, son. When you are happy and settled, you will thank me."
I was happy and quite settled, but I didn't bother to tell her that. I took another bite of my bar and watched her leave with clacking heels and a rigid spine. Sighing, I chucked the health bar into the waste basket to my right. Nothing made me lose my appetite faster than talking about love.
Chapter three
Gemma
Rule #2: No marriage. Find a house ASAP.
Mini slurped at my chin, coating my skin in dog drool just before she snuffled her wet nose against my cheek. I sat up from my glazed, post-coffee state and glared down at her. "That was gross."
Mini stared back, her pointy, bat-like ears twitching. Pure-bred Doberman Pinscher and exceptionally large for her breed, Mini could easily reach her nose to my cheek again as I sat at my kitchen table, and that was exactly what she did. I had a track of tears sliding down my cheeks, despite already having done my makeup, and Mini seemed determined to lick them away. I pushed her nose down. "I appreciate the sentiment, but ew."
Mini whined, flicking out a long tongue to swipe at her nose. I sighed, reaching out to scrub between her ears. "We've got three days until we're homeless, you know. You should be crying, too."
Mini's eyes rolled closed in satisfaction as I scratched under her glittery pink collar. She didn't seem concerned, damn her. But I was concerned. I wasreallyconcerned. I'd been scrambling for over a week to find a new apartment, but not only were vacancies nearly impossible to find in our area, they were outrageously expensive. Who had three months' rent sitting around in their bank account as a deposit? Not to mention utilities, moving supplies, and in some cases, appliances. I had a few appointments with large, completely unaffordable apartment complexes this afternoon, and I'd have to ask my boss, Janice, if I could leave early again. I wasn't sure what good it would do, though. Even if I could get into an apartment fast, I couldn't afford it on my salary.
I knew if it came down to it, Ruth would offer me a room in her house. She lived with her boyfriend, Callum, but I really couldn't stomach the idea of living in a house with those two. He was handsy as fuck, and I justknewI was going to get an eyeful of them having sex if I stayed in that house. I gave Mini a grossed-out face, and she grumbled as if she agreed with my train of thought.
Major ick, those two.
Sighing, I stood from my tiny, two-person table, picked up my mug, and went to the sink to wash it. My studio apartment was small even for a single woman, and it had been one of the only affordable places in Eugene five years ago. But that had been before the pandemic. Now housing was somehow even more impossible to find and retain, and I was sure that was why my landlord had sold it in the first place. They probably wanted to move somewhere the cost of living wasn't your firstborn and half your immortal soul.
I would miss this little apartment. It had a cute kitchen with teal cabinets and butcher block counters, and as I stood at the sink to wash myThe Office-themed mug, I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the space that stretched out behind me. I took in the little white table with a fake succulent in the center of it, pretty, reclaimed barn wood floors, my computer desk with a gaming computer I used for my MMORPG games, and a daybed bathed in sunlight from the sliding glass doors that led out to a second-floor patio. It was charming and whollyme.It was also tidy and organized, and I just loved it.
Three days from now, I'd be booted from it. I couldn't bear the thought.
After I'd washed my mug and placed it on the hook above my counters, I adjusted a tea towel laid out flat and straight on the counter and turned the soap bottle so it faced out with the sunflower decal perfectly centered. Many people assumed that I would be disorganized or frantic in my personal life. They seemed to think that the zany, quirky types were spiraling tornadoes of chaos. Surely, if we were unusual, energetic, or bubbly, our personal lives would be variations of the same disordered, uncontrolled mayhem. But that certainly wasn't the case for me.
I had a need to put the fine details of my life into ordered, militant rows of tidy precision. I organized the minutiae of everyday tasks into a finely crafted grid of control, and then when I couldn't stand my tortured brain one second longer, I exploded into brilliant starbursts of blinding color. Because yes, I was unexpected and passionate, but only as much as I allowed myself to be. I allowed myself a lot of quirks, truthfully. But my calm, organized space allowed me to be free everywhere else.
After giving Mini another rub-down and several kisses so she didn't sulk when I got home, I grabbed my purse from the hook by the door, smoothed my hands down the scratchy wool of myplaid skirt, and took my yellow peacoat in case it got cold. I looked put-together; surely, I could pretend to be.
My commute was another reason I loved my apartment. I could walk to work in almost any weather, even the rain, because the businesses and trees managed to shield what my umbrella didn't keep out. Even in heels, it only took me eight minutes to walk to work, passing by historical buildings, charming storefronts, and bustling cafes. My morning walk filled me with energy and the renewed sense that people were full of palpable energy and potential. The last few weeks had gone spectacularly wrong for me, but today was going to turn it around. I could feel it.
I arrived at Kiss-Met to find a full list of clients for the morning. At first, many of my potential clients had been online or over the phone, but over time, we'd achieved a reputation for a certain mystical vibe in person. I attributed this mostly to Janice, who looked like the village kitchen witch with her long, flowy dresses, salt-and-pepper hair, and twinkling smile. It certainly wasn't because of our scientific, nerdy little Ruth and her pragmatic but oddly successful matchmaking calculations. She was effective, but certainly not mystical. I fell somewhere between the two, following my gut on several matches but also using a critical eye to look at their profiles and decipher what might make them compatible.
By lunch, I'd seen five clients, and I settled in at the computer to sift through matches based on criteria our computer software was able to filter for us. My office was a lot like my apartment—small, tidy, sunny, and safe. I had a row of windows to my right that let the bright autumn day illuminate the bookcase against the wall across from me, the neat rows of filing organizers, and the fake plants I had stashed everywhere. Janice had real plants in her office, but I was too scattered to keep anything but Mini alive. That was why I insisted on organization where I could. IfI didn't put something where it belonged right away, my brain would fly away and never return to that thing again.
Ruth passed by my office, a stack of papers in her arms, but she paused in my doorway. Sweet Ruth. She hardly ever thought to come to my office because her head was in a cloud of numbers and facts and logic, but I usually did try to annoy her a few times a day. I hadn't been doing that lately—cold, reeling panic tended to do that to a person. So, when she stopped and gave me a pointed look over her glasses, I knew it must have been bad if she had noticed. "Gem, isn't this your lunch hour?"
I couldn't afford lunch. I had to buy a fucking apartment lease. Instead of saying that, I popped up from my chair. "Yes, but everyone wants dates this time of year so they aren't alone for the holidays. It's been busy." I took a file from my desk and handed it to her. "I think you should match this guy. He seems all nerdy and factual like you."
Ruth pushed at her thick glasses with her pointer knuckle before taking the file from me. She had shoulder-length, sleek curls that bobbed with every movement, and she usually dressed in boring corporate slacks and sweaters, but today she was wearing a bright orange sundress that clashed with her skin tone horribly. She cocked her head as she peered at the file. "He's a Pisces, huh?"
