A single text blows up my life, destroys the marriage I thought I had, and sends me scrambling to find a safe place for me and my son, far away from my cheating ex.
I need a roof over our heads.
I need a divorce lawyer.
And I need more hours in the day.
What I don't need is the too-hot-for-his-own-good f*ckboy from the playground befriending my kid and insinuating himself in my life. I'm done relying on other people.
Except that I need a roommate to make ends meet and guess who needs a place to live?
It's fine. We don't even need to be friends. And we definitely don't need to be anything else, regardless of what fantasies I may have in my weaker moments. All I want is to figure out how to stand on my own two feet until my divorce is final and I can get away from this little slice of paradise that has come to represent my own personal hell.
And the pilot with the disarming smile and revolving bevy of girls calling at all hours? He's a complication, but as long as he can act like a good roommate, I'm sure everything will work out.