The last time Roman went into his parents’ suite was when he was eight. He had been playing hide-and-seek with Carlo and Adriana—Zack had been sick and Parker out of the country—and accidentally stumbled in on his father with a woman who was most definitely not his mother. His father promptly kicked him out, after threatening him with a beating if he ever told Giselle, and also fired the nanny—who’d been his favorite so far. That, combined with the mental scarring that came from watching your parents (or at least one of your parents) do it was enough for Roman to give the master suite wide berth for the next ten years.
Now, as he approached his parents’ wing of the house, his nerves were stretched taut, and he was half-tempted to turn back and go to the basketball courts, which always calmed him down. But he couldn’t, since he’d promised Maya.
Roman took a deep breath, trying to picture her face, and after a few more seconds, his heart rate slowed down to normal.
He stared at the closed double doors, before finally, tentatively knocking on the custom wood.
A brief pause, then “Come in!”
Roman turned the knob and stepped into the vast, hushed suite, which was decorated in pale cream and rich burgundy. His mother was lying on the canopied bed in a silk nightgown, skimming through a thick, glossy magazine.
When she saw him, she immediately put down the magazine and sat up, the range of emotions on her face flitting from surprise to pleasure to nervousness.
Was she actually sober? He found it a bit hard to believe.
“Oh, hello dear.” Giselle reached up to fiddle with her diamond pendant. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” The fact they were talking like polite strangers was not lost on Roman as he dutifully gave her a cheek kiss. “Are you busy?”
Translation: Are you drinking?
“No, no,” she replied quickly. “Come, sit next to me.” She patted the space next to her.
Instead, Roman took a seat in the chair near her bed. He felt awkward and uncomfortable, and judging from the look on Giselle’s face, he wasn’t the only one.
They descended into silence.
“So, how are you and Maya doing?” she finally asked.
“Good.” Roman wished he’d brought along his phone so he’d have something to do with his hands. He settled for gripping the chair’s armrests, digging his fingers into the delicate brocade. “We have our anniversary Saturday.”
“That’s good.” Giselle smiled. “She’s a wonderful girl. I take it she’s forgiven you for the hospital prank?”
Roman cracked a smile. “You could say that.” More like she’d gotten him back good, so they were even. “You did a good job the other day. With the prank,” he said spontaneously, feeling a bit more generous for some reason.
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably, but Giselle looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy.
“I figured it was the least I could do,” she said quietly, her eyes swimming.
He really hoped she wasn’t going to cry. He did not deal well with crying people.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed so she was facing him head-on, her diamonds blindingly bright even in the soft lighting. “I know we haven’t…talked much lately,” she ventured hesitatingly, like she was afraid he was going to up and leave if she so much as uttered a wrong word. “But…I really missed you.”
Roman’s knuckles turned white. “Yeah, well, I would’ve thought it’d be pretty hard to miss someone when you’re drugged up or boozed up all the time,” he said flatly, flashing back to the string of missed birthdays, ruined holidays, and cancelled family vacations over the years.
Giselle’s face was now the color of his knuckles. “I know.” Her lower lip trembled. “I know I haven’t been a good mother, or much of a mother at all, but I’m trying to change, I really am. It’s—it’s going to take some work, and I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I’ve just depended on alcohol and pills so much that I can’t…” She took a deep breath. “But since your…accident… I just realized how much I wanted to be better. For both of us.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You’re so grown-up now, and I haven’t been there for any of it…and you’ll be off to college in the fall—“
Roman’s own throat felt tight. After so many years, he’d thought he was immune to anything his parents could say or do, but hearing her speak brought back a flood of earlier dreams and wishes, ones where he belonged to a normal, loving family who ate dinner together every night and talked about their days, where his mother would take care of him when he was sick and his father would take him camping and teach him about sports and girls.
Even though he hadn’t had any of that, Roman thought he’d done pretty well for himself. His friends became his family, but deep down there had always been something missing. No matter how great Carlo and Parker and the Perrys were, he supposed nothing could quite replace maternal love.
At the same time, he wasn’t sure if he could believe her. It was certainly easy to say you wanted to change, but actually changing? That was a whole different ballgame. But the scary part was, Roman really, really wanted to believe her.
“Do you really think you can change?” He stared at her, trying to feel the way a normal son would when faced with a crying parent. He couldn’t quite do it. He hadn’t thought of her as his mother for a very, very long time, and it would take a while before he could do so again.
“I can try.” Giselle sounded earnest. “And I will try my hardest. But—“ Another deep breath. “—but I’m going to need the support of my son.”
The tightness in his throat intensified. Roman knew the ball was in his court. He could either accept what she was saying and try to mend things between them, or he could just leave, go back to his safe place, and save himself the hurt that would come if everything fell apart again.
“I--“ He stopped. Giselle looked like she was about to pass out. “I suppose.” He smiled weakly but it probably came out as more of a grimace. “We both need backup if we’re going to deal with my asshole of a father.” That came out without thinking, and Roman winced a bit, expecting her to berate him for using foul language or talking about his dad like that.
To his surprise, Giselle laughed, a rich, creamy, genuine laugh he hadn’t heard in ages. Warmth suffused his insides at the sound, and his own smile strengthened a bit.
“He is quite an asshole, isn’t he?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Roman stared at her in shock for a moment, before joining her in laughter. “The biggest,” he added truthfully.
“I’m so glad you came to see me,” Giselle said after their mirth died down. “I really am. So…well, I don’t want to ask for too much but…how about a hug?” She gazed at him so hopefully he didn’t quite have the heart to turn her down, so he stood up slowly and walked gingerly into her hug.
Giselle beamed, and Roman tried to adjust to the strange sensation of her arms wrapped comfortingly around him. It was completely foreign, but for once he had hope—however small—that it might become much more familiar in the future.
His lips unconsciously tugged up into a smile. He supposed he needed to give Maya one big, fat thank-you the next time he saw her.
* * *
“You bought me lingerie again?”
I stared at the crisp white shopping bag Adriana had thrust at me. LA PERLA was stamped on the front in simple black print, and I could see a sliver of lace amidst all the tissue paper.
“Of course. I’ve decided that the lingerie you got months ago is bad luck,” she declared. “Since we bought it with Parker’s card and all. Now that you’re dating Roman, you need some new stuff, bought especially for him. I mean, don’t you remember what happened during your last anniversary celebration? Or rather, lack thereof. You got kidnapped. Thus, bad luck.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I hate to break it to you, Adri, but I was kidnapped because James is psycho, not because of the kind of underwear I was wearing.”
“That’s what you think.” Adriana pulled a bra and thong set out of the bag. They were so much skimpier than the ones I already had that I immediately blushed. “Now, go put these on. We only have two hours left to make you even more beautiful for tonight.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not wearing that,” I declared defiantly. Nope. No way in hell was I going to put that on.
Then Adriana gave me her special, withering look, the one she usually reserved for people who wore sandals with socks or pleated pants or—gasp!—both at the same time.
“Ok,” I said weakly, taking the flimsy scraps of cloth from her. “I’ll be right back.”
Don’t judge me. She can be really scary sometimes.
But as I locked myself in the bathroom and reluctantly pulled off my shirt and pants, despite Adriana pointing I could just change in the room with her because we were both girls and had the same body parts anyway, I couldn’t help but grin giddily. This was it. Tonight, Roman and I would finally be able to celebrate our anniversary, and I couldn’t wait.
I felt more excited than ever, now that I’d finally gotten my “talk” with my dad out of the way. It went much better than I expected, and it sounded a lot like the talk we had right after I saw him and Lexi in New York. Lots of tears and emotions and promises, but this time, I actually believed him. I even forgave him, for the most part. He is, after all, my father, and one I loved very much.
Honestly, after the whole James incident, I figure I should just let bygones be bygones. Besides, tonight happened to be New Year’s Eve, and I wanted to start the year off on the best foot possible.
Thankfully, my family could care less about New Year’s—thanks to my mom, we usually only celebrated Chinese New Year—which meant I could go out with Roman while the rest of the gang enjoyed champagne and fireworks on the boat he got Zack for his birthday.
After I put on my brand-new designer underwear and pulled my lounge pants and shirt back on, excitement fluttered through me. I wondered what Roman had planned. I’d spent the entire week trying to guess, but of course, Roman, being the huge meanie he was, refused to tell me if my guesses were correct or not. He even outright laughed at some of them.
But seriously, judging from all the extravagant things he’s done, a hot air balloon trip over Austria followed by a private concert is not out of the realm of possibility. Not that I really wanted a hot air balloon trip over Austria. The whole Arnold Schwarzenegger scandal pretty much ruined Austrian accents for me, and besides, I’m afraid of heights.
But it would’ve been cool anyway.
“So, have you decided what you’re going to wear?” Adriana asked, once I exited the bathroom.
“Yeah.” I walked over to the closet and pulled out a simple, elegant black silk dress. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but this seems like a safe bet.”
She tilted her head, fingering the material. “Hmm.”
“What?” I looked at the dress. It was one of the nicest items of clothing I owned. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if you should wear silk, it…might not be a good idea.”
I paused, then nearly jumped with excitement. “Wait! You know what he has planned, don’t you?” I shouted.
Adriana winced at the volume of my voice. “Let’s see.” She rifled through my closet, evading my question. “This is nice.” She held up a draped white jersey dress I’d worn for my parents’ ten-year anniversary dinner.
“That kind of looks like my homecoming dress,” I murmured.
She shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Trust me, this will work better.”
I took her word for it. Adriana had exquisite taste, and considering she probably knew what Roman was up to, I should probably take her advice.
For the next two hours, she helped me primp, pluck, moisturize, exfoliate, and depilate in preparation for the big night. In fact, she did so much I’m a little scared of how crazy she’s going to get once our one-year anniversary rolls around.
I bit my lip. Hopefully, Roman and I would still be together in one year. After all, we were both seniors, and college can change a lot of things…
“Don’t do that, you’re messing up your lip gloss,” Adriana scolded, spritzing me with her own Chanel perfume.
Normally, Venice would be here too, but she was probably off in la-la land with Zack, chasing puppies or something. I smiled at the thought. Those two were too perfect for each other.
The doorbell rang, causing me to nearly shoot out my chair. “He’s here!” I squealed.
Adriana pressed her hand firmly down on my shoulder. “Your mom will get it. We need to finish getting ready.”
“Yes, m’am,” I joked.
I guess she was right after all, because Roman stopped ringing the bell, and I could hear the low hum of conversation float up the stairs. When Adriana finished, I stared at myself in awe. This was even better than homecoming. I swear, that girl is a genius.
“Where did you learn to do hair so well?” I marveled, touching my perfect waves.
“Boarding school,” she answered matter-of-factly, tossing her Mason Pearson brush back into her giant bag, along with her Hot Tools curling iron, Bumble & Bumble hairspray, and various other products from brands I couldn’t pronounce. “One of my best friends there is the daughter of a famous hairstylist.”
I was so startled by this nugget of information I almost fell out of my chair. I’ve never heard Adriana talk about boarding school before, but now I was more than a little curious. What made her leave her elite Swiss campus and its international princes and whatnot to come back to Valesca?
“Wow. She must be really good, if she can afford the tuition on a hairstylist’s budget.”
“Yeah.” Adriana shrugged. “She’s nearly impossible to get an appointment with, booked five years in advance. She charges something like $1000 per highlight. But anyway, she doesn’t pay for tuition. Chantal—that’s my friend—her father is a huge media mogul. He pays for almost everything.”
She didn’t offer any more information, and I didn’t ask, because at that moment I heard Roman’s laugh float up the stairs, and I was suddenly itching to join him.
Adriana must’ve noticed, because she grinned and shooed me toward the door. “Go to your lover boy,” she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “I have to get ready for the boat get-together anyway. Have fun, and be safe.”
I blushed. Little did she know, what I planned to do tonight was quite dangerous indeed.
* * *
“Are we almost there yet?”
“Just wait. You’re so impatient,” Roman teased.
I pretended to pout, but secretly, I loved the mystery. When I saw Roman in my living room earlier, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. He’d looked absolutely amazing in a perfect black tux, and he’d handed me a single, perfect red rose—after greeting me with a kiss (kept chaste for my parents’ benefit). He’d whisked me into a private jet for a very short ride and then into a limo, where proceeded to blindfold me. I assume that was so I wouldn’t know where we were going.
Like I would know anyway. I didn’t even know what town or city we landed in.
Suddenly, the limo rolled to a stop, and I heard the distinct sound of a car door slamming shut.
“We’re here?” I ask-squealed, sounding like a little girl.
Roman laughed. “Yes, we’re here.” I felt him move off the seat, and a moment later, he grasped my hand with his strong, warm one. “Watch your step,” he warned, as I slowly swung my legs out the door and stood up hesitantly. He wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me.
And that was when I smelled it. The tangy, salty scent that could only indicate one thing—we were near the ocean. And if that didn’t give it away, the sound of waves crashing against the shore certainly did.
“Can I take off my blindfold now?”
“In a little bit.” He began guiding me closer to the waves. “And…stop.”
I stopped.
I felt him lean closer to me to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “Are you ready?”
I nodded eagerly, and then the blindfold fell off. A burst of light replaced the previous darkness, and I had to blink a few times to orient myself. When I did, I gasped, staring at the giant, gorgeous yacht in front of me. It was like a floating mansion, so tall I had to crane my neck to see the top, and it was decorated with strings of beautiful, twinkling lights. That wasn’t what shocked me though. What shocked me was the flowing blue script on the side, which spelled out one very simple name: Maya.
“You…you named this after me?” I squeaked.
Roman smiled. “Yes. I got it as a Christmas present, but I couldn’t think of a good name, until I suddenly thought, why not name it after someone I love?”
I turned red with pleasure. We’ve been saying the L word a lot lately, but I never tired of hearing it. “Wow,” I whispered softly. “But—it’s your boat—“
“No. It’s our boat,” he corrected firmly. “It’s as much yours as it is mine. It has your name on it. Literally.”
I laughed but shook my head. “You are too—“
“Handsome? Charming? Perfect?” he suggested.
I rolled my eyes. “I was going to say modest,” I joked.
Roman grinned and led me up the ladder onto the yacht. We wound through the massive boat until we reached the top deck, and once again, I was stunned. There was a single table for two in the center, set with a crystal vase of roses, gleaming silverware, and delicate china. There was also a giant banner that read VALESCA HOMECOMING.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
“Well, I kind of heard that I ruined your homecoming for you,” Roman explained rather sheepishly. “So…I guess I’m trying to make it up to you. Obviously, I can’t recreate it all the way, and we didn’t really have dinner there, but it’s the closest I could—“
“Roman,” I interrupted, smiling. “You’re rambling.”
He actually blushed. It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “Sorry.”
“No, you don’t need to be sorry.” I looked around, taking in the simple, beautiful decorations, the vast sea stretching out to the horizon, which was still tinged a pale pink and orange from the sunset, and I could feel the emotion welling up inside me. “This…this is absolutely perfect.”
Roman’s face lit up. “Do you really think so?”
I nodded, drawing him into a lingering kiss that showed him just how much I loved it.
When we broke apart, I could see a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“So…are you really hungry? Or can you wait a bit?”
I stared at him curiously. “I can wait a bit. Why?”
“I have one last surprise for you.” Roman gestured to something behind me, and when I turned, I let out a scream that could probably be heard all the way in Asia, because standing at the edge of the floor was a very, very famous British musician. He looked even snazzier in real life, in a white tuxedo and his signature glasses.
“You—you—“ I sputtered, unable to form a sentence in my starstruck state.
The singer smiled as the music from one of his most well-known songs started piping through the speakers. As he launched into the opening lyrics, Roman held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”
I was seriously about to start sobbing, but I managed to hold myself together. “Yes, you may,” I breathed, taking his hand.
And even though the song only lasted a few minutes, it seemed to last a lifetime, the most romantic lifetime I could ever hope for.
When he finished, the singer wished Roman and I a “Happy anniversary” and actually kissed me goodbye on the cheek—which nearly caused me to faint—before leaving us to ourselves.
“That was…surreal,” I managed, still unable to believe I’ve just been serenaded by someone who used to be such close friends with Princess Diana, whom I loved.
Roman grinned. “You are so cute like that. And I can’t take the credit for all of it. Adri helped me pull some strings. She mentioned you had a soft spot for this song.”
I swallowed hard. “I think this is the best anniversary in the history of anniversaries.” I snaked my arms around his neck. "I love you."
“I love you too," he murmured, kissing me again.
I pulled back slightly, so that when I spoke, my lips brushed his. “So…are you really hungry? Or can you wait a bit?” I asked, parroting his words from earlier.
Roman raised his eyebrows. “I can wait. What did you have in mind?”
“Well…” My heart was beating so hard my whole body seemed to reverberate from it. “I was wondering…if there were any…staterooms on here.” I gulped.
He blinked. “Yeah, sure. Why? Are you tired?”
Oh god, did I really have to spell it out? “No…but…I will be. After…” I trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint. Wow, this was embarrassing.
“After…?” Suddenly, Roman’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you saying that you—“
I nodded. Thump, thump, thumpthump, went my heart.
“Maya.” Roman’s face managed to look concerned, awed, excited, and nervous all at the same time. “Are you…sure? Because I swear, I can wait if you’re not ready. That isn’t why—I mean, I’m not expecting you to do anything, and I don’t want you to until you’re absolutely sure you’re ready. So don’t feel like I’m pressuring you.”
“Would you rather have dinner right now?"
He looked taken back at my question. “Um, uh…” I giggled a bit at the discomfited look on his face. He obviously had no idea how to respond. “I just…” He looked confused. “No?”
“Good.” I looked him in the eye. “Then we’re in agreement.” Oh god, when did I turn so bold?
I’ve seriously been hanging around Adriana way too much, but I am not wearing hundreds of dollars of designer lace and silk under my dress just so I could sit here and eat steak. And honestly, I am ready. Absolutely, one hundred percent ready.
“Now…” I bit my lip and tried to look seductive. “How about you give me a tour of this boat?”
Roman stared at me, looking torn. I don’t think he fully believed me when I said I was ready, but I swear, I will smack him upside the head if he says no.
Luckily, he didn’t. After keeping me waiting for a full minute, he took my hand and led me towards the living area of the yacht.
I took a deep breath, practically shaking from my nerves.
It seemed to take us forever to reach the stateroom, which was as luxurious as the rest of the yacht, but I barely noticed.
Roman dipped his head to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I was just about to deepen it when he pulled back to look at me.
“Maya.” His voice was a mere whisper. “Are you absolutely sure?”
I swallowed hard.
I remember reading somewhere once that artists didn’t really care if people liked their work or not—they cared about whether their work inspires emotion, whether that be love or hate or anything in between.
There are a lot of guys out there who are cute. There are a lot of guys who are sweeter and less moody than Roman, and there are a lot of guys who never kidnapped me or made me feel as though I wanted to tear my hair out. But those were all guys that didn’t inspire much in me besides feelings of serene friendship. But Roman? He had never done anything except make me feel every emotion in as intense a way as possible. Love, hate, anger, jealousy, passion…it was all there.
“Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent sure,” I whispered back, recapturing his mouth with mine.
And when we fell back on the bed and made good use of those foil-wrapped presents Parker gave me, I added any emotion to the list: that of complete and utter bliss.