The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

“You shouldn’t piss off the woman who so graciously offered you a roof over your head. I’ll tell Allie you’ve been making trouble.” Paige waved her fork at me. The menace was spoiled by the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So you only enjoy vaginas recreationally. Got it. What rotations did you like? Any favorites?”

I chewed slowly as I pondered. “Hmm . . . maybe cardiology?”

“What appeals to you about it?”

“I don’t know.”

I did know, but it would sound stupid if I explained it out loud. After Dad left, Mom was so sad and crying all the time. When I’d asked her what was wrong, she told me that her heart was broken . . . and it scared the shit out of me. I’d been too young to understand that the literal, physical heart wasn’t the same thing as what people meant when they talked about emotions. So I’d thought she was going to die.

It made sense to me that the heart pumped emotions along with blood. I, too, had felt things in my chest-a painful squeeze whenever I thought about Dad, a solid warmth when I resolved to protect Mom and Allie no matter what. But even after I learned otherwise, I remained fascinated with the heart, both its symbolism and its reality. It was the only organ in the body that never tired or took a break. Steady and faithful. Ironic, given that I seemed to be cursed when it came to relationships, that I was more interested in matters of the heart than the physiology of it.

After a few more bites of her food, Paige looked up. “Why did you decide to go into medicine?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “You already know my sister and I were dealt a crap hand.”

She looked down into her margarita. “Yeah, I do . . . I was there. It wasn’t always easy.”

Being raised by a single mom with only a high-school education wasn’t glamorous. We moved more times than I cared to remember. It seemed like every time my mom lost her job or broke up with her latest boyfriend, we were uprooted. She made sure we stayed in the same school district, but finding a place with rent she could afford wasn’t easy. Without a father figure in our lives, the responsibility of being the man of the house fell on me.

“Growing up the way I did, I guess it shaped my goals. Now I’m just perfecting the art of making lemonade.”

She smiled at me as if she liked that answer. “Making lemonade. I like that. So, what are your goals?”

“Being low-income meant I qualified for free tutoring and a bunch of scholarships. I won plenty of those, based on both merit and need, enough to cover the cost of my tuition at Yale. And then later, med school.”

“So you turned a bad situation into a good one.”

“I certainly tried like hell to.”

I was lucky in some regards. Most of my peers would graduate with student-loan debt up to their eyeballs. Working harder than everyone else had landed me scholarships that probably saved my ass.

“But that still doesn’t tell me why medicine.” Paige placed her elbows on the table, leaning closer.

“I knew from an early age that one day I’d be taking care of my mom. It was the only thing I was sure of. She’d sacrificed so much for us, did the best she could. Since before I can remember, I’ve felt like, as her only son, I have a responsibility. I guess subconsciously I chose a field where taking care of others was the focus.”

Smiling at me fondly, Paige twirled a piece of her shiny blond hair between her fingers. “You were always such a good kid, a serious student.”

“Don’t patronize me. I was a nerd.” I set my napkin beside my now empty plate.

She laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s only because you were trying to be nice.”

She shrugged. “It’s rare to be so disciplined about studying and goal-setting at such a young age. You’re actually kind of amazing, Cannon. And now you’re going to be a doctor in a few short months.”

Her compliment radiated through me. I rarely took the time to examine my way of life. I just did the work that was in front of me and kept going.

Of course, things had changed in the past handful of years. My mom had remarried and now my stepdad provided for her, so she technically didn’t need me to support her anymore. But she was immensely proud of what I’d accomplished, so I just continued on making lemonade, living the only way I knew how.

We finished dinner and carried our dishes to the kitchen. Standing side by side, she rinsed while I loaded the dishwasher. We made a pretty good team. Our new living arrangement should have felt strange, with all our old history and this new sexual tension crackling between us, yet it felt natural in a way I didn’t anticipate.

“Any big plans for tonight?” Paige asked, handing me the last dish.