Chapter 162 Roommates
The final embers of Zachary Bailey's cigarette dwindled to his fingertips. With an indifferent flick, he extinguished the remaining stub in the ashtray, uttering a dismissive, "Yeah, I know."
Winona Sullivan observed him with a cryptic smile, the undertone of sarcasm evident, despite her silence.
The dinner concluded in a shroud of uneasy quiet.
Upon the meal's conclusion, Isaac extended an invitation to his home.
"I've been traveling all day," Winona demurred. "I'd prefer to return to the hotel and rest. I'll pay my respects to Grandpa tomorrow, then visit you and Melissa."
Melissa, however, had no intention of letting Winona evade her. It was all well and good for her to promise a visit after the memorial, but what if Winona decided to return to New York prematurely?
This was about her son's future, and Melissa felt it prudent to keep a close watch on the situation.
Gripping Winona's arm, Melissa steered her towards the car, feigning concern. "We're family. You can't stay at a hotel in Silverton. Our house isn't grand, but it's sufficient. Tomorrow, Isaac can escort you to your grandpa's grave."
"There's no need, I know where it is."
"Things haven't been easy for us these past couple of years. A shaman suggested it was due to your grandpa's grave being in the wrong location. So, we relocated it, and I haven't had a chance to inform you. The new site is a bit hidden and lacks a specific name. It's challenging to provide directions, so it's best if Isaac accompanies you. I'll feel more at ease."
Melissa wasn't concerned about her lie regarding the grave's relocation being discovered.
The conversation had reached a juncture where Winona could no longer refuse.
"Mr. Watson, if it's not an inconvenience, you're also welcome to stay at our home," Melissa offered. "You've traveled far to pay your respects; a hotel seems so impersonal."
And so, the group journeyed to Isaac's residence.
Since the car couldn't accommodate everyone, Melissa and her son Justin opted for a taxi.
Isaac's home was a typical four-bedroom, two-living room abode, adorned in a minimalist style with a clean, fresh color scheme. After swapping out the linens, Melissa meticulously tidied the guest room, then informed Winona, "You and Zachary will occupy the larger room tonight, Mr. Watson will take the other."
"Melissa, I'm perfectly fine sleeping on the couch for the night," Winona replied.
She was already browsing flights back to New York for the following day. The trip was initially intended to be a longer stay, a sort of vacation, but complications arose after trailing two men around.
Engrossed in her thoughts, she shot Zachary Bailey a resentful glare.
He turned to face her, catching her gaze. "You've got a bone to pick with me?"
"Yeah, so why don't you do us both a favor and take a hike?"
"That's not happening, so if you've got complaints, you'll just have to bottle them up."
Winona Sullivan fell silent.
Melissa cast a reproachful glance at her. "It's freezing outside, and you'll catch a cold on the couch. You and Zachary are married; sharing a bed is only natural."
She was angling for their reconciliation, hoping to gain something from it. But how could there be a reunion if they didn't sleep together?
"We're divorced, Melissa."
"We’ve been sharing a bed for three years. Tonight's no different."
Dinner at home was a modest affair. Melissa prepared a lavish spread, but Winona and Isaac's family had little in common and scant shared memories to reminisce over. After dining, Winona retreated to her room, unconcerned whether Zachary Bailey and Matthew Watson felt out of place.
The master suite boasted an en-suite bathroom, a luxury Winona appreciated after her refreshing shower. Emerging from the steam-filled room, she discovered Zachary, sprawled leisurely on the balcony sofa, engrossed in his phone. Choosing to disregard him, she reached for the hairdryer, intending to dry her damp tresses.
With the drone of the hairdryer reverberating around the room, Winona found herself lost in the mirror's reflection. Her mind wandered back to the earlier conversation at the restaurant, a question plaguing her thoughts. Why had her grandfather insisted her mother terminate her pregnancy?
A sudden, sharp pain from her scalp yanked her from her reverie. The acrid smell of singed hair filled her nostrils. Her hair had become ensnared in the hairdryer. Hastily, she flicked off the device, attempting to disentangle the trapped strands, but to no avail. After unplugging the hairdryer, she rummaged through the nightstand and vanity drawers in search of scissors, but her search proved fruitless. Just as she was about to resort to forcefully yanking it free, a hand halted her, "Let me get some scissors from outside."
Winona, not wanting to be a bother, protested, "No need, just pull it out. It's not that much."
Zachary frowned, his eyes lingering on her glossy hair. "Can't you act like a lady for once?" He was concerned about the potential damage to her hair, which was of excellent quality, smooth and shining like the finest silk. Tearing it out would only result in an unsightly mess.
Winona, oblivious to his concerns, watched his retreating figure and couldn't help but roll her eyes, muttering, "Jerk."
Before long, Zachary returned, scissors in hand. He carefully snipped the tangled lock of hair and felt her scalp—still damp. He frowned, tossing the towel she'd used back at her, "Dry your hair properly first. I'm gonna go find a screwdriver to clear that hair out of the dryer."
He disappeared once more, returning shortly with a toolbox. He set to work, diligently disassembling the hairdryer, each tangled strand of hair slowly being removed.
The room was bathed in a warm, yellow light, softening the sharpness of Zachary's features. His delicate, expensive silver cufflinks caught the light with each movement, sparkling brilliantly. There was something undeniably attractive about a man so focused, and Winona found her gaze lingering on him, increasingly unable to look away.
The room was silent, aside from the faint sounds of Zachary fiddling with the hair dryer.
. A sense of bewilderment washed over Winona. The scene was almost absurd: Zachary Bailey, meticulously fixing her hairdryer.
Without looking up from his task, Zachary asked, "Do I look good?" Winona couldn't deny it; he was indeed handsome.
"Anything that looks good is poisonous," she retorted, her tone suddenly icy. Rising from her seat, she declared, "Tonight, you're sleeping on the floor." Melissa had thoughtfully prepared two blankets for them. Given that Silverton winters were milder than New York's, one blanket would suffice.
Zachary looked at her for a few seconds, his gaze unhurried and resolute, "Not happening." He dropped the hairdryer and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Left alone, Winona resumed drying her hair, contemplating how to convince Zachary to sleep on the floor. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Rising to answer it, she was greeted by Matthew Watson's smiling face, "Winona, need to switch rooms?"
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