“YOU’RE IN A pissy-ass mood.”
Roman stared at his drink. It was his second, and he forced himself to sip it instead of shooting it like he wanted to. No matter how good of a friend the man next to him was, he still couldn’t afford to lose control. Mostly because I’ll end up drunk texting Allie and making a damn fool of myself. “I’m fine.”
Aaron Livingston snorted. “You’re about as far from fine as a man gets. I’ve never seen you this out of sorts about a deal falling through.”
The deal and Allie were all twisted up in his head, and he couldn’t untangle them. That investor would have helped her. He couldn’t divulge details until the contracts were set, but his client, Clare Belford, was the perfect fit for that company. She had one of the biggest nonprofits for abused women in the country, and she’d loved the idea of Allie’s gym being linked up with several of them.
Because of a nondisclosure agreement he had with Clare, he hadn’t been able to tell Allie that, but if she’d just trusted him, she would have found out shortly.
Except she hadn’t trusted him.
He was good enough to fuck, but anything beyond that was strictly off-limits. The thought had him downing the rest of his drink despite his best intentions. He motioned to the bartender to refill the glass, doing his best to ignore the curious look he could feel Aaron giving him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Holy fuck.” Aaron leaned against the bar, blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not business at all—it’s woman trouble.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you get?”
“You do want to talk about it. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Aaron waited for the bartender to slide the newly filled glass over before continuing. “You weren’t seeing anyone before you left for the island, and that place has a limited population of guests, so there was only one woman there who’d be twisting you up like this.” He whistled softly. “You and Allie Landers? I thought you didn’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I don’t—didn’t.” He eyed his glass but didn’t pick it up.
“You might as well get it off your chest. I can’t say I’ve ever had that look on my face, but I have three sisters, so I know a thing or two about women.”
Roman almost commented on the fact that if he had to recall his sisters for advice instead of his own dating history, he wasn’t much help. But the truth was that Roman had a varied dating history and he’d never been this fucked up over a woman. Even his worst breakups and the respective aftermaths had been filled with a sense of peace because it was the right call.
There was no peace in this.
He nudged his glass farther away. “I had all the answers. The solution to everything she needed. All I got for my trouble was a kick in the ass as she showed me the door.” When Aaron made a noncommittal noise, he kept going. “I never planned on her. Fuck, man, she’s strong and gorgeous and smart as hell. I’m talking full package. I thought we were on the same wavelength, but she didn’t even try to see that I might actually be right. She’s so determined to do things her way, she won’t even give us a shot.”
“You want the bro-supportive view or real talk?”
He finally looked at Aaron. Roman could have called Gideon to come drink with him, but his other friend was so deep in his romantic bliss with Lucy Baudin that he wouldn’t be able to commiserate. Aaron, at least, was single. All Roman had really wanted was someone to drink with who wouldn’t press too hard, but he’d underestimated Aaron. It was tempting to say he wanted the supportive viewpoint, but Roman had never shied away from the shitty side of things, so he went with the hard truth option. “The latter.”
“You fucked up.”
He blinked. “How do you figure?”
“Look at this from her perspective—you crashed her vacation and, yeah, maybe your intense chemistry made everything else take a back seat for the week, but nothing really changed. You were still the conquering enemy force once you two got back to New York. You have the standard contract with the prospective investor?”
“Yeah. Always.”
Aaron nodded. “So even if it’s the best fit, you aren’t telling her shit about this person and you’re expecting her to just take your word for it. From all accounts, Allie Landers is a woman who’s been holding the world on her shoulders and dealing with every issue that’s arisen on her own. You can’t seriously have expected her to just flip on a dime and put everything she’s worked years for on the line on your word alone.”
“I expected her to trust me,” Roman snapped. The fact she hadn’t still stung like a bitch.
“Why?”
He growled. “Because I would never hurt her or what she cares about.”
“Maybe you know that. Maybe she even knows that on some level.” Aaron shrugged. “If your delivery was anything similar to the one you’ve given tonight, you can’t blame her for telling you to fuck off. Maybe the sex changed things for you both, but if you didn’t tell her that, how’s she supposed to know? She’s not a damn mind reader.”
He wanted to rail at his friend—at Allie—that she should have trusted him anyway, but... What had he really done to earn that trust? A multitude of orgasms was great, but it didn’t translate—a fact he damn well knew. He’d opened up about his past a bit, but he hadn’t exactly made himself overly vulnerable to her. He’d held back. They might have established a connection, but it certainly didn’t earn him the amount of trust he could expect her to stake her business on. He drank some of his whiskey, forcing himself to go slow. “I care about her.”
“And it’s making you stupid. Don’t worry—you’re not the only one who’s done it. She made mistakes in this, too, but we’re not talking about her. We’re talking about you.” Aaron took a pull of his beer. “The question remains—what the hell are you going to do about it?”
Allie cared about him. Roman would bet everything he owned on that fact. His pride might be demanding he let the whole thing go and move on with his life...but he couldn’t wrap his mind around moving on from this. Allie was special. More than what he felt for her, he wanted her to succeed in the vision she’d put into play. He wanted to be by her side when she saw it realized. If he walked now, he wouldn’t do any of that.
What was his pride when compared with his happiness—and hers?
He checked his watch and stood. “I’m going to go get my girl.”
“There you go.” Aaron toasted him with his beer. “Though I’d recommend waiting for morning, since it’s after ten.”
Roman was already turning for the door. “I have a few calls to make. I’ll catch up with you later.” He had several things to line up before he could talk to Allie. If he wanted a chance to succeed in winning her back, he had to be able to present new information—to change the narrative.
* * *
A pounding on the door brought Allie out of her light doze. She shot to her feet before she realized that she wasn’t in her bed, and nearly tripped over the coffee table. She scrubbed a hand over her face and headed for the door as whoever was on the other side kept knocking. For one crazy moment she was sure it was Roman, coming to find her after last night to say... She didn’t know what. Something.
But when she opened the door, it was Becka on the other side. Her friend took one look at her and shook her head. “Oh, God. It’s worse than I thought.”
“What?”
Becka nudged her back into the apartment and shut the door. “You. You are worse than I thought. Look at you—you’re wearing holey sweats, you have powdered sugar on your shirt and there are ink stains all over your hands. Something is going on with you, and I want to know what it is. Did Roman do something? Do I need to kick his ass to Brooklyn and back?”
“What? No.” Yes. Sort of. She smoothed her hair back, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t showered today and her messy bun was more mess than bun. “Roman and I had a vacation fling and it’s over now.”
Becka narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You were well on your way to head over heels for that guy, and from the way he looked at you, he was right there with you. So what gives? Because you were fine when we flew back to the city, and now you’re on the verge of a breakdown.”
She opened her mouth to make some excuse and change the subject just like she always did when Becka put her on the spot, but despair got the better of her. “I’m in trouble, Becka. Big trouble.”
Instantly, her friend’s half-joking demeanor disappeared. “Tell me so we can fix it.”
“I don’t know if there’s any fixing this.” She walked back to the couch and sat down, waiting for Becka to join her before she started in. Allie detailed how far behind they were on bills, how she’d been borrowing from her own income to supplement both the gym and the shelter, how she was almost drained dry.
How she’d told Roman no even though he’d offered her a potential way out.
“Well, yeah.” Becka nodded. “He didn’t give you much in the way of assurances, and I get why you said no.” Before Allie could relax, she continued. “What I don’t get is why this is the first time I’m hearing about all this.”
“I thought I could handle it.” Even when she’d realized she couldn’t, putting that burden on someone else went against everything Allie was. She was the problem solver, and she knew she could depend on herself. Other people depended on her—she didn’t depend on other people. She didn’t know how to reach out when she was in trouble.
Becka gave her a look. “You know, it’s not the worst thing in the world to ask for help. You’re allowed to not be perfect.”
“I know I’m not perfect.”
She snorted. “But you don’t know how to lean on other people. As your best friend, I’m all about blindly hating anyone you hate, but I have a question and I want you to answer it honestly.”
Even knowing where this was going, she couldn’t help nodding. “Okay.”
“Did you even stop to consider for a second that maybe Roman was on the up-and-up? That maybe he cared about you and was telling the truth about his investor and he only wanted to help?” She held up a hand. “I mean, the man is not a saint. He went after this account because he knew it would make his investor happy, and he didn’t really care about what you wanted before he met you—but that doesn’t mean that the investor is an evil mastermind who wants to destroy everything you’ve worked toward. Did you ask Roman if you were going to be able to stay on in any capacity?”
“No.” Heat climbed her chest and throat to settle in her face. Embarrassment. “He wanted me to compromise on everything and just have faith that he wasn’t screwing me. I just...reacted.”
Becka nodded. “I mean, I’m not saying you were 100 percent in the wrong. He played that poorly from beginning to end. But I also think that maybe, just maybe, you reacted instead of thinking it through. I know you want to be able to do this all yourself, but there’s no shame in letting someone else share your vision—and help you realize it.”
She took a slow breath. “All those women are depending on me to help them.”
“Whoa. Slow down there, Wonder Woman. Those women are grateful for a safe space, yes, but they’re not helpless. They’re not children who need you to see to their every need. You can’t put all that on your shoulders.” She leaned forward. “Let’s be honest here for a second, okay?”
Allie managed a half smile. “We weren’t being honest before now?”
“You know what I mean. I love the shit out of you, but you can be bullheaded to a clinical degree. Roman scared you. He made you feel things and he offered you something you want desperately but are afraid to take because it might blow up in your face. I get that. I do. But I also think you latched on to any reason why it wouldn’t work and just ran with it, ignoring any indication that you might be—just maybe—dead wrong.”
She didn’t want to admit that. Roman was as bullheaded as she was—if not more so. She couldn’t afford to show weakness because he’d steamroll her.
Except by not showing weakness, she’d put them in a position where it was all or nothing. There was no compromise because she hadn’t tried to compromise. She’d just turned him down and cut things off because it was easier than putting herself out there and trying. Becka’s words wouldn’t smart so much if they didn’t have more than a grain of truth in them. “Damn it, you’re right.”
“I often am.” Becka slouched back onto the couch and pulled her legs up to her chest. “So, to simplify—you like Roman a whole hell of a lot, and you’re in trouble with the gym—the kind of trouble an investor would solve, but only the right investor.”
“That about sums it up.” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “I guess if I had the right investor, it wouldn’t be hard to sign over control—at least partial control. Someone who has the same vision I do, and who wants the same things.”
“That makes sense.” Becka grinned. “Good thing we know someone with a whole list of people wanting to invest in start-up companies that have promise. I imagine if you went to Roman with a counteroffer, he’d fall all over himself to give you whatever you want.”
Since Allie couldn’t imagine a scenario where Roman fell all over himself, she just nodded. She could go to a different person to make this connection, but that seemed the height of stupidity—and cowardice. Facing Roman and admitting that she was wrong shouldn’t be the end of the world. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but what if he really had been serious about giving them a real shot? She’d spend the rest of her life wondering if she’d missed the love of her life because she was too stubborn to ask for help. “I should call him, huh?”
“If you think so.”
She considered it for a full thirty seconds. “I’m going to shower and then I’m going to go find him.”
“That’s my girl!”