The minute we pull up in front of the mansion, it’s painfully obvious that Roman’s grandmother is loaded. The place looks like a fucking castle that belongs in Europe with turrets and stone siding. It doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to picture it with a moat and guards in medieval armor.

Since I woke this morning, I’ve been even more uneasy about my decision to let Roman back in. Sleeping with him after all this time was even more amazing than I had hoped, but every conversation we’ve started since the concert has me second-guessing whether or not I can do this. He’s determined to know what happened with Chris, and all I want to tell him is that if he cared then he would’ve stuck around. But he’s already kicking himself for leaving and I can’t add to his guilt. I’ve already hurt him enough.

Roman reaches for the car handle, but some old dude in a suit opens the door before he has a chance, greeting us both with a, “Good morning,” and a cheerful smile.

“Relax,” Roman tells me once we’re standing on the pebbled driveway. He takes my hand in his much larger one and grins as his starry eyes work their magic. “I could tell last night that my grandma likes you. Don’t let the outrageousness of this place intimidate you.”

If he hadn’t been wearing jeans and Chucks too, paired with the black leather jacket that never fails to turn my insides all mushy, I probably would’ve worried what I’m wearing isn’t cut out for this visit. But as we breeze through the grand double doors leading into a heavily decorated foyer where his grandma appears in a blue pantsuit, white hair loosely curled around her head in a puffy halo, I strangely feel at ease.

It’s hard not to warm to the elderly woman. My grandparents were gone before my earliest memories begin, and there’s something about Roman’s grandma that’s easy to love. She seems exceptionally spry for her age, and the way her wrinkled face lights with a smile reminds me of Roman.

“There’s my superstar!” she says, holding her thin arms out for Roman. When he hugs her she chuckles and wiggles about. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you after the show how proud you made me! The security people said you had already left. I suppose you were eager to get going before your fans lined up outside.”

Roman releases her, flashing me a guilt-ridden look. “I figured it would be best to introduce Belle to this way of life slowly. Last night was enough of an adjustment without her watching women try to grope me.”

She clicks her tongue. “Don’t they have any pride?” Then she motions for me to step forward and wraps me in her frail embrace. “I’m so glad you and Roman found each other again, sweetheart. You and I have some catching up to do.”

Not sure how to answer, I squeeze her gently before letting go. Roman’s arm slips around my back. “How long before we eat? Do I have time to give Belle a quick tour?”

I snort quietly to myself, wondering how a tour of this massive home could possibly be quick.

His grandma claps her hands together. “Actually, I was hoping you could take a look at the toilet in the master bathroom. I know it’s probably a matter of lifting the top and giving it a jiggle, but that porcelain is so heavy, and I’m afraid I’d let it drop.”

Roman chuckles softly. I love how I can feel the rumble deep in my chest like we’re somehow connected. “Sure, Grams, I’ll give it a look. But isn’t that what your maintenance crew is for? If you want a few minutes alone with Belle, you just had to ask.”

“I promise I’ll mind my manners,” she promises him with a wink.

After dropping a kiss on the top of my head, Roman chuckles again. “I won’t be gone too long.”

“Your grandma and I are big girls,” I tease. “We’ll be fine.”

As Roman starts for the grand stairway, the old woman hooks a gnarled hand through my arm. “Let me show you my lovely greenhouse out back. You’ll love my prized collection of roses. I’m no longer able to take care of them myself, but they smell wonderful.”

I step forward with her, smiling from ear-to-ear. Her enthusiasm is adorable and contagious. “Your home is beautiful, Mrs.—”

“Please, dear, call me Caroline.” She sighs wistfully as she’s leading me into another room. “At first I found it obnoxious, but my husband insisted I was his queen and needed a castle.”

We enter a grand sitting area flanked with impressive artwork where an ivory grand piano takes center stage among velour furniture. I stop to appreciate the piano when I remember Roman saying his grandma was passionate about music.

“My pride and joy, aside from my grandson, of course,” she tells me with a soft laugh. “Did Roman tell you I once performed in Carnegie Hall?”

Shaking my head, I walk over to perch on the cushioned bench and tap at a few keys. “I knew you played, but he never mentioned you had played there. We still have a lot to learn about each other.”

“Do you play, Belle?”

“I’ve never taken lessons, but I’ve taught myself a few things.” My fingers dance over the ivory keys, playing the opening chords of a Coldplay song. I never had much of an interest in playing piano until one of my high school students played me a classical sonata that left me in tears. Ever since, I’ve toyed around whenever there was a piano at my disposal, thinking maybe it would add a new dimension to our performances.

I’ve only written a few ballads. I try to avoid them as a rule because they tap into the part of me left in pieces after letting Roman go. I’d rather open my throat and scream about how I self-destructed to let out the residual anger left in the wake of my decision.

“My, that’s lovely,” Caroline says, sitting beside me on the piano. “I suppose it’s not surprising you have a natural talent since you met my Roman at camp.”

My Roman. It shouldn’t bother me that his grandmother claims him in that way, but I automatically feel as if my feathers have been ruffled. Was that a veiled warning not to break her grandson’s heart? I set my hands in my lap and wait for whatever it is the old woman has been waiting to say since I stepped foot inside her home.

“Had I known you were living in the city, I would’ve been more than happy to give you lessons before you left on this tour.” Then her chilled hand touches my arm. She meets my gaze with a mournful smile that barely touches her lips. “Whatever happens, you should know that boy has been through hell and back without you. For a time his mother wanted to send him to a rehab facility. But alcohol was never the problem. You were his entire world, Belle. I know what it’s like to have the love of your life unceremoniously ripped away. My Anton is gone, but you and Roman have been given a second chance to pursue your happy ending.”

I balk at her candor, having expected a lecture of a different kind. Tears thicken my throat as I try to imagine the dark place Roman must’ve been for his mom to suggest rehab.

“We’ve both changed,” I blurt, surprised how easily the confession slips out. “We’ve always come from different worlds. He’s famous now and I’m still struggling to pay my bills. For the most part, I’ve always taken care of myself. I don’t know how I could give up the life I know to let Roman ‘take care of me’ like he wants. I’m not even sure our expectations for the future are the same. And his dad was always determined to keep up apart. What if he hears we’re together and does…something? Something that breaks us a second time?” I bite down on my tongue, wondering if I’ve revealed too much—more than I’ve told Roman. I think she’s Roman’s maternal grandmother, but what if she’s exceptionally close to Roman’s father?

She touches her fingers to her cheek. “My, there certainly are a lot of things to take into consideration. I imagine it’d be a drastic change for you not to worry about money,” she agrees in a way that doesn’t come off as condescending. “If you’re afraid of losing sight of your individuality, you need to find whatever it is that fulfills your own dreams. And while it might be true you’ve both become different people from the young children who fell in love at camp, you share a history that began at a crucial time in your lives. The adults you’ve become were formed because of the experiences you shared. I think if you look hard enough, you’ll discover those kids are still there, holding on to hope that you’re still able to save each other. And if you have any doubts about the size of our boy’s heart, maybe you should give his album another listen. Last night was the first time he’s ever introduced a woman to his mother. Whatever his intentions, I assure you they’re honorable. He truly loves you, Belle. I can see it in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only woman on earth.”

I laugh under my breath, amazed by the old woman’s wisdom. What if she’s right—what if the bond we formed at camp is enough to get us through the changes that have happened in the time since? Is our love enough to survive the demons of our past?

“If you know any other tunes, I’d love to hear them,” Caroline tells me, her voice soft. “Although it’s been so long since this piano was played that I haven’t bothered getting it tuned. Perhaps by your next visit I’ll have taken care of that, and I can teach you a few classical pieces.”

Lifting my fingers back to the keyboard, I smile to myself, knowing she’s confident I’ll be back for another visit. I only hope she’s right.

* * *

Roman’s quiet as we’re packing our things at the hotel several hours later. Brunch with Caroline was a new experience—one that only made up for my lack of family growing up. Although I was grateful that Roman has the kind old woman in his life after everything his parents put him through, I was quiet as I considered everything she had to say. Knowing she’s hopeful Roman and I will find our happily ever after sparked the kind of hope I’ve been trying to hold at bay, knowing there are too many other factors fighting against us. And with all her talk of family struggles, I started to regret the way I’ve treated Aunt Joey since leaving Vegas.

Zipping my suitcase, I turn to Roman. “Ready when you are.”

He crosses the room to take it off the bed. “What’d she say to you this morning?”

I snort, grinning smartly back at him. “If she wanted you to know, she wouldn’t have asked you to check on her plumbing.”

He tosses my suitcase down before yanking me into his arms. Laughter sticks in my throat when I catch his serious scowl. “You were so quiet that I was scared as shit you were getting ready to run. Did she say something that made you change your mind?”

“No,” I choke out, feeling pinned by the intensity of his starry gaze. “I’m not going to run.”

His fingers lightly dig into the small curve of my back. “Maybe not this time anyway.”

Closing my eyes, I grimace. “Will there ever come a time when we stop hurting each other?”

“I sure the fuck hope so,” he mutters, pressing his face against my cheek. “I’m so sorry, babe. I’m just scared to death to lose you because I finally feel whole again for the first time in years. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you a second time.”

Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, I grab onto his jaw and guide his face down to meet mine. Our hot breaths mix together as I stare into his beautiful seas of green, searching for a trace of the boy I once knew better than I knew myself. But he’s all man now, constructed of hard lines and massive muscle. At least his eyes are the only physical thing that hasn’t changed, because I’ll always find comfort in their soothing hue.

“I won’t hurt you again,” I promise, even though it’s inevitable that I’ll eventually hurt him one way or another. Isn’t it human nature to hurt the ones you love?

I rise to my toes, our eyes still locked as I touch my lips to his, light as a feather. The connection is both familiar and foreign, having only shown him this level of gentleness. My stomach tingles with an equal mix of fear and excitement. I do it again, flinching when his hand rises to cup the curve of my jaw and his thumb brushes over my scar.

His gaze appears heavy with regret when he looks down on me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness.”

I nearly buckle, the weight of his promise too much to bear.

His other hand slips beneath my shirt to stroke my lower back. As always his touch is tender, filled with love and compassion. “Let me back into your heart, Belle. Let me show you why I’m the only man you’ll ever love.”

A little sob bubbles in my throat. I’m so close to telling him that I love him despite my issues with the word, but I can’t do that to myself. I can’t let him in that easily when I have everything to lose if he’s wrong. I snake my arms around his neck and drag him down, absorbing his tender words with my lips and tongue. His thick arms lift me until I’m straddling his waist, and then we’re falling into the soft bedding with our limbs as tangled as our tongues.

As we “make out” much like the teenagers we once were, I try not to put too much thought into the adoring way he stops to look at me every now and then, or the way he seems to be cherishing my body with every brush of his fingertips.

I’m pissed at myself for being so open and unguarded around him. I’ve traveled down this road, trusting in his promises and having faith that everything would work out so we could be together until the end of time. He once promised his love was stronger than anything that could come between us, but he was wrong.

I stop long enough to strip out of my clothes, relieved when he quickly leaves the bed to do the same. As long as he’s pounding into me, I’m unable to overthink our actions and consequences. As long as he’s satisfying my sexual urges, there isn’t room for doubt.

Grabbing his hand, I pull him down to sit on the mattress and climb onto his lap. I refuse to give him control by doing it missionary style, although there’s too much intimacy when he’s able to look into my eyes. I impale myself on him, arching back to push my breasts into his face. The same time I feel his tip tapping my deepest depths, he latches onto a nipple and strokes his tongue along the pebbled surface. Moaning, I wind my fingers through his hair, pressing my nails into his scalp.

The floodgates open with each of his gentle touches.

I’m too exposed.

Too vulnerable.

I won’t survive letting him go again.