A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You mean like a train wreck in slow motion? I can’t even stand upright without wobbling like a newborn deer.”
“No,” he replied, his grip on my jaw gentle yet firm. “I mean like a goddamn wildfire. Beautiful. Devastating. Alive. And not meant to be tamed.”
I swallowed hard, fighting against the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm me.
“You say that now,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “But what happens when it all becomes too much? When I inevitably ruin everything again?”
He held my gaze for a moment, the weight of his silence heavy. Then, without uttering a word, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Then we rebuild. Together. Every single time. Because that’s who we are. It’s what we’ve been doing for the past five years, Sav.”
Another silence enveloped us as I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest-not cold, but filled with warmth and promise. I was at a loss for how to respond.
I shifted slightly, pressing my cheek against the comforting expanse of his chest once more, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the faint scar that marred his rib.
“You and Alyssa,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been so close yet so distant. There’s this undeniable connection between you, yet you only met her this week.”
Roman exhaled slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face with a tenderness that made my heart flutter. “It was almost surreal. I never imagined Ryan could stray from his picture-perfect life and have… something like this.”
“How long has he been married?”
His mouth tightened into a thin line, the memories clearly not pleasant. “Seven years. A ridiculously extravagant wedding that lasted three days on his cruise ship. Sea sickness nearly did me in.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, picturing Roman hunched over the railing, battling the waves of nausea.
In the back of my mind, I did the math. Emily is just five.
Oh Alyssa, what were you thinking, making the same mistake?
“Emily,” I said softly, my heart aching. “She does resemble you… in a way. Especially around her eyes.”
A shadow passed over Roman’s features. “She is his. I suppose we do share some resemblance.”
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of unspoken words. “I take it you two aren’t particularly close.”
He hesitated, the silence stretching before he finally replied, quietly, “No, we’re not. It’s complicated.”
I playfully walked my fingers up his chest, watching as his eyes followed the movement, a flicker of amusement dancing in his gaze.
I shrugged lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m all ears if you want to share.”
His expression shifted in an instant, a hardening of features that spoke volumes as he turned his gaze away from me. “No. There’s nothing to tell.” The finality in his voice was like a door slamming shut, and I could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between us.
Realizing I had stumbled upon a sensitive subject, I decided to let it go for now. I could see he wasn’t prepared to delve into it, and pushing him would only create more distance.
Silence enveloped us once more, stretching out like a long, winding road without an end in sight.
From downstairs, the sounds of laughter floated up to us, light and buoyant. The clinking of forks against plates, the pop of a cork breaking free, and the warm hum of voices filled the space, a stark contrast to the tension lingering in our room.
Emily was finally home. She had been discharged just that morning, the doctors giving her the green light to leave the hospital. I felt a swell of relief at the thought of her being back, safe and sound.
A gentle knock at the door broke through my thoughts, playful and light.
My mom peeked in, her appearance a testament to the long hours she had endured. Her hair was a wild tangle, eye bags prominently displayed beneath her weary eyes. Her skin had taken on a pale, ashen hue, and the redness around her eyes suggested she had been fighting fatigue. Even her lips looked chapped, a sign of her exhaustion.
She looked worn out, a shadow of her usual vibrant self.
“You two lovebirds coming down for cake and wine, or should we just send you a slice with two forks?” She attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her tired eyes.
Roman smirked at her teasing, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks, a blush creeping up as I exchanged glances with him.
“We’ll be right down,” he replied, his voice steady and calm, as if the weight of the moment didn’t faze him.
“Don’t take too long,” she playfully admonished us, a hint of motherly concern lacing her words.
“And don’t forget to get some rest, Mom. You look tired,” I added, my voice softening, hoping to convey my care for her.
“I will,” she promised, a wink accompanying her exit as she closed the door behind her.
Roman let out a soft groan, shifting his weight. “I should probably shower. Unless you want to go first?” His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something more.
I shook my head, my mind still swirling with thoughts. “You go. I’m still processing everything.”
He stood, stretching his arms above his head, and then, without a hint of hesitation, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down.
My heart stumbled in my chest.
I quickly turned my back, facing the other side of the room, but my eyes were drawn to his laptop screen perched on the desk. The dark reflection of the blank screen acted like a mirror, and against my better judgment, I glanced back.
What I saw took my breath away.
His broad back flexed as he rolled his neck, muscles rippling down to his narrow waist. The sweatpants he had discarded landed on the bed, leaving him completely bare, utterly unashamed of his nudity.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of the sculpted lines of his thighs, the strength of his back and shoulders, the curve and tautness of his backside, and the effortless way he inhabited his own skin.
My eyes were drawn to that part of him-the part that threatened the fragile friendship we had built. The part that ignited an instinctive reaction in my body, one I couldn’t control.
My breath hitched in my throat.
He was magnificent. Majestic, even.
The magnetic pull was undeniable; I couldn’t tear my gaze away. It felt as though I was caught in a spell, compelled to keep my eyes on him.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.