Nothing to Everything (Roommate for Roommate Book 1)

by Maia Aaron

Goddamnit. She’s right. Wendy would never let this go if she found out. I can’t risk her place in this competition. She’s worked so hard, and it’s so important to her. I can’t take that away from her. Still, that doesn’t mean I need to break up with her. I could easily lie and tell Willis I went through with it. It’s not like she’d know, not unless she’s got hidden cameras and microphones in Wendy’s room. And if Willis asks Wendy about it, then Wendy would know something was up, because her mother never talks to her about her personal life. Or, well, anything. I can work around this. If I keep this from Wendy and lie to Willis, then I can make it work. Wendy doesn’t need to know about this. Especially not now. It’ll mess with her head, I know it. It’s better this way. Besides, it’s only another week until the competition. We can stay out of Willis’s sights until then. We’ll be fine. This is fine. I think. One thing is for sure, though: there’s no way in hell I’m breaking up with Wendy.

“That was nice,” he murmurs. “You’re nice. I’m so glad I didn’t break up with you like your mother told me to.”

Fuck 💀

I’m no longer letting things slide and moving on from every shitty thing my mother does to keep me under her thumb. Once Fitz is fully asleep, I’m going to pay my dear old mother a visit, and we’ll see who still holds the cards by the end of it.

Oh christ this is going to go so well 😃

And I hate her for it. I hate that she said the words like they meant nothing and then immediately tried to make it sound like she did her best to be a good mother to me. I hate that instead of an apology, all I got from her were excuses. And maybe, after spending so long hoping if I loved my mother enough she’d reciprocate it, I’ve just finally come to hate her.

“I’m pulling out of the competition,” I say. I’d been thinking about it since before this all happened, but I told myself I had to do it to prove to my mother, and maybe myself that I was good enough. That I could win. But now? Now I have no reason to go through with it. I’m done with trying to make my mother happy. I’m done doing things I don’t want to just to please everyone else.

Too bad I’ve already done that for twenty years and it’s gotten me nowhere. No matter what she says, I don’t owe my mother a damn thing. Not even being by her side when she’s on her deathbed.

My heart sinks down to my stomach. I don’t know what there possibly is to say that could make this situation any better for her, but the truth is, I don’t think there is. The only thing I can do is be there for her and tell her I understand and that I’m proud of her. So, that’s what I’ll do.

I see the emotion that settles onto her face, and it hits me straight in the gut. Her eyes turn shiny and her smile teary, and it kills me that that single phrase is enough to do that. I’ll tell her I’m proud of her every damn day if she wants me to. I’ll tell her I’m proud of her every time she gets a fucking jar open. She sniffles. “That’s worth everything to me, Fitz.” Fucking hell, I can’t do this anymore. I walk over to her, and once I’m close enough to pull her to me, I wrap my arms around her waist and push her up against me, holding her to my chest. She gasps, a little stunned at first, but then relaxes against me. Her arms come up to wrap around me, and she nuzzles her face into my shirt. God, I love holding her like this. I love feeling her soft body against me, calm and relaxed, and knowing she feels safe enough with me to let me do this. I love putting my nose in her hair and getting to smell her shampoo, no matter how fucking weird that sounds. She fits against me perfectly, and every day I’m given more confirmation that she was made for me. Actually, no. She wasn’t made for me. I was made for her. I was made to give her everything she’s always wanted. To be there for her and cherish her and reassure her. To hold her when she’s sad and kiss her when she’s happy. To make her smile and hear her laugh and memorize every part of her body and learn every part of her heart. To love her. And, God, do I love her. I love her like nothing else. Because without he...

“It’s a bouquet of crochet flowers,”

“You know something, Fitzy?” She asks.“I think you’re my favorite person in the whole world.

You’re my favorite person in the whole world. Is there anything better than knowing that you’re your favorite person’s favorite person?

“Nothing is more important to me than you, lovely.

My pretty girl loves to be praised, and I fucking love praising her. We’re a perfect fit.

There’s so much I want to say. So much I’ll have to tell her when I find the right moment. And that moment might not be right now, but I’ll carry the words in my heart until I do. I love you. I love you. I love you. You’re the air I breathe. Your smile is the only one I ever want to see. I don’t want to think unless it’s of you. Without you, I am nothing, but with you, I am everything.

almost have to look away to keep myself from fainting. The emotions I see on his face and the ones I feel in my chest are almost too much for me to bear, but in such a wonderful way. I’m so happy in this moment with Fitz that I might cry. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. We’re perfect, and I can’t believe it took so long for me to figure it out.

He pauses, turns his head to the side, and shrugs. “There’s no one for me other than you, Wendy. There never will be. So if you give me a crumb, I’ll treat it like a full-course meal. I’ll take anything you give me for as long as you give it to me.”

“I’m not perfect, and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life thinking you deserve better than me.” I start to shake my head slightly to tell him that’s ridiculous, which he doesn’t seem to notice because he keeps going. “But I’ll do anything and everything for you. I’ll go wherever you go. I’ll listen to every Taylor Swift song and read every romance book you read to ensure we always have something to talk about. I’ll give you flowers every day so that you’re never left without them. I’ll work hard every day to make sure I deserve you because you deserve nothing but the best in the whole goddamn world.” He stares into my eyes as he says his next words. “I fucking love you, Wendy Marin. So much that it’s the only thing I can think about.

My sweet, vulnerable boy. How can he not already know how I feel? How can he stand there and tell me he’s not perfect when I’ve spent the last three months wondering how it was possible for him to be so perfect? The fact that he’s so scared that I don’t share any of his feelings and that he thinks I deserve better than him makes my heart break. What did I ever do to deserve this level of love? To deserve his love?