Chapter 25
Lexi
I look at the time on my phone again, then my texts to see that Roman still hasn’t responded to me, and with a frustrated huff, I look at Georgia, who is sitting at her desk doing paperwork. Pushing up out of one of the cheap secondhand guest chairs, I tell her, “I’m going to head home. I have no clue where he is or what’s going on.”
Georgia looks up at me with a sympathetic smile. “Oh, honey, I’m sure everything’s fine.”
And I hope that’s the case. Roman was supposed to pick me up here at The Grind when I got off my shift at 5:30 P.M.
That was over forty-five minutes ago.
I feel like we’ve hardly had any time together and I guess that’s something I need to get used to if I’m going to date a professional athlete. He was in DC last Saturday night for a game—the night we affectionately refer to as the “boob incident” game—only to come back for a day, before he headed out for games in Atlanta and then Nashville. The day he was back he had practice and I had to work that night, and thus our time together was him sitting in The Grind listening to me play my music. Well, that’s not true…he stayed at my apartment that night and it’s safe to say neither of us got much sleep, but then he was off traveling again.
He got back into town today and doesn’t have a game for two days. His plan was to pick me up here and then we were going to go on a real date: dinner and a movie. Well, and then there would be sex, because…hello, this is Roman and I may be addicted to his body.
Even though we haven’t seen each other but for a few snatches of time over the last several days, we’ve stayed in constant contact. Calls, texts, emails, and even FaceTime, which may have involved one very late-night sex show I put on for him after his repeated whining that he missed my body. Of course, I couldn’t deny him, and we both had a mutually satisfactory ending with that call.
But I am worried that he’s forty-five minutes late with no call or text, nor is he returning my calls or texts. My first worry is that something bad has happened to him and I imagine the worst, like a car accident or something. A secondary worry, which I try to tell myself is ridiculous, is that Roman’s through with me.
It’s ridiculous.
I know it.
But still…it’s a worry. While we’ve been getting closer and closer to each other, there are still gaps that can’t seem to get filled. That would namely be the antagonism between him and Gray, which has not gotten any better, but it hasn’t escalated either. It’s basically turned into grumbling about each other to me. Both of them have come to feel comfortable enough with me that they can complain about the other.
Last Saturday, Gray did as Roman thought she might, and she called me to tell me about him signing that jersey. Well, in her words, he was signing her breast. Roman’s story was a little different, and that it was her jersey over her breast. Semantics, I know, but both of them felt affronted by the actions of the other and I got a double earful.
On the one night I had with Roman this week, I was a little irritated that some of our precious time together was marred when he felt the need to rant about Gray fining him for that Schultz hit. Apparently, she told him she was fining him five thousand dollars, but when she reviewed the film, she felt it was more egregious than she originally thought, and upped it to ten thousand dollars. Roman was convinced she was punishing him for dating her sister, being pissed he won’t jump at her beck and call, and that there were probably hormones involved.
My part in all of this?
I listen and remain silent. I don’t engage and I don’t offer opinions. The most I do is give each of them my empathy and pray to God that they both grow up at some point and put this crap behind them, because it’s really starting to wear on me.
This is the reason I have a little doubt about Roman.
Maybe he just doesn’t think I’m worth the effort because of my personal connection to the owner and management. Maybe he’s not here right now picking me up because he’s just not happy with the baggage that comes with my family ties.
Or maybe he’s realized that life was better when he could be free to sign autographs on women’s breasts and not have to commit to just one woman.
That’s probably it.
A flush of anger courses through me, and I know it’s irrational. But I reason that it’s rude he didn’t show up, didn’t call me, and has left me hanging with these worries. Outside of him being seriously hurt—and let’s face it, the chances of that are really slim—there’s really no excuse for him to be this late and not to have filled me in on his agenda.
“I’m going home,” I snap to Georgia, and she jerks in surprise, then quickly stands from her desk.
“Honey,” she says with her arms held out to me. “Want me to cancel dinner with Brian and you and I can go out? Drink some wine, bash on men or something?”
I snort. “You would have nothing to contribute to that conversation. You and my dad are so google-eyed over each other it makes me nauseated.”
Georgia gives a tinkling laugh, but her eyes remain filled with concern, and she doesn’t banter with me. “Seriously…you and I can hang tonight. It’s been awhile since we drank some wine and just enjoyed each other’s company.”
Smiling, I walk around the desk and give Georgia a big hug, whispering in her ear. “I love you for volunteering, but honestly…I want you and my dad to go out and have fun tonight. It thrills me to see both of you so happy with each other.”
Her fingers dig in to give me an acknowledging squeeze, then we pull back from each other. She cocks her head at me and asks, “But to be serious for a moment, it doesn’t bother you I’m dating your dad, does it?”
“God no,” I exclaim quickly. “Why would it?”
“Well, because he’s all stuffy and uptight, and I’m totally corrupting him and will continue to do so. I just want you to know that if you feel the need to step up and protect his virtue, I’d understand it.”
And for a brief moment, I forget about my worries with Roman and let out a snort of crazy laughter. Grabbing Georgia, I pull her back into a hard hug and tell her, “I hope you do corrupt him. He needs some fun in his life.”
“Amen, sister,” she murmurs to me, and we break apart again.
Turning toward her office door, I casually toss over my shoulder, “If Roman shows up, tell him I said ‘bite me.’ ”
“Do you really want me to tell him that?” she asks skeptically.
“No,” I say grudgingly over my shoulder. “You can just tell him I got tired of waiting on his supreme highness to grace me with his presence and I’m going home.”
“I won’t say it quite like that,” Georgia says with a laugh. “But I’ll let him know where you are.”
“See you tomorrow,” I tell her with forced cheerfulness as I walk out of her office.
—
By nine o’clock, I have my pajamas on—a snuggly fleece set done in butter yellow with little white sheep on them—and a pair of fuzzy socks. I make a cup of hot chocolate in my Keurig. It’s a little watery and not all that great, but I’m too lazy to make it the old-fashioned way. Besides, it sort of fits my current mood of frustration and annoyance, so I’m going with it.
I’ve decided on one of my favorite movies, Love Actually, because I’m still an eternal optimist despite my frustration, and I settle in on the couch with a soft knit blanket my mom made for me several years ago. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but it still smells a little like home to me.
The hesitant knock on my door comes just as I turn on the TV, and taking stock of my immediate feelings, I’m honestly not surprised. I knew he’d show up at some point.
With a sigh, I put the remote down on the coffee table and push up from the couch. As I cross my small apartment, I wonder what I’ll get with Roman. Maybe he’s drunk after deciding to go out and drink with the boys, and he lost track of time and forgot he had a date with me. Maybe he had something important come up that prevented him from contacting me, although in fairness, I wouldn’t know if he’d been trying recently, as I turned my phone off the minute I got home.
When my hand touches the knob, I steel myself to maintain my irritation with him, knowing that one soft look will melt my anger, and swing the door open.
I’m met with anger on etched all over his face. “Is there a reason you’re ignoring my calls?”
“Didn’t know you called,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “Turned my phone off.”
“Seriously?” he asks with both eyebrows raised. “That’s how you’re playing this?”
“Yup,” is all I say.
“Can I at least come in?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Sure,” I respond with another shrug, then step back from the door so he can enter. “But let’s make this quick, as I have a hot date tonight with Hugh Grant and Liam Neeson.”
“What?” he huffs as he turns on me, clearly confused.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know anything about them,” I say sweetly. “Two men who clearly have their priorities in order.”
“Jesus fuck, Lexi,” he growls at me in frustration. “I’m sorry I’m late—”
“By three and a half hours,” I growl back at him.
The anger dies in his eyes and apology softens his face. “I’m really sorry. I laid down to take a nap after practice. I even set my alarm on my phone, but I fucking forgot to turn the vibrate off. I just didn’t hear it.”
I don’t say a word, but I’m not about to let him know at this point I’m actually relieved he’s here and it’s a simple matter of not hearing his alarm, causing him to oversleep and miss our date. But I’m going to let him squirm a little more.
“I woke up about an hour ago and immediately tried to call you,” he continues to explain. “But you wouldn’t answer.”
“Phone was off,” I remind him.
He gives me a tiny glare and continues. “I rushed right out of the house and went to The Grind. Georgia told me you weren’t there and I had to listen to her read me the riot act. Then I came here.”
Roman sounds so frustrated, so completely out of sorts, as I think this may be the first time he realizes that relationships aren’t always fun and games, that my anger completely fizzles and I have a moment of profound sympathy for him.
“Was Georgia really tough on you?” I ask with a compassionate smile as I move toward him.
“Yes,” he exaggerates with a pout. “Based on the way she laid into me, I was positive I was going to come here and have you tell me to get lost permanently.”
“Poor baby,” I croon, also with exaggeration, before stepping into his body. My arms wrap around his waist and I press my cheek into the middle of his chest.
His arms automatically encircle me and he presses his lips briefly to my head. “Am I forgiven?”
“Yes,” I tell him with no hesitation, because I’d decided to do so the minute he told me he’d overslept. I mean, who hasn’t done that at some point in their life?
“Can I stay the night and can we have makeup sex?” he asks hopefully.
I snicker and squeeze him. “Sure, if that’s what floats your boat.”
Roman’s arms release me and his hands go to my shoulders, pushing me back from him enough so he can look down at my face. “You totally float my boat, in bed and out. I’m really sorry.”
“I said you were forgiven,” I tell him softly, loving the way his face monumentally softens with relief and hopefulness that he can have something “more” than anything he’s ever had in his life. “Let’s go have makeup sex now.”
—
“I’m close,” Roman murmurs as he kisses my neck, moving in and out of me in long, slow glides of wet flesh on the verge of a spectacular release. “Tell me you’re close.”
“I am,” I breathe, my entire body quivering from this fantastic lovemaking. He’s already made me come twice, once with his mouth between my legs in what I’m thinking he felt was a further need for apology, and then again when he turned me over on the mattress, pulled me up onto my hands and knees, and fucked me quickly from behind. I came extraordinarily fast for a second time, collapsed from the dizziness that ensued, and then gasped in surprise when he pulled out, flipped me over and entered me again.
Since then, he slowed the pace to a rhythmic undulation that I think was meant to display his stamina, as well as prolong this indescribable feeling of complete connection that we have in this moment.
Roman’s mouth moves from my neck to my jaw before his lips claim mine in a deep, slow kiss that matches his strokes. I can’t help the deep moan that rumbles upward from my chest through my throat and rolls from my tongue onto his. It causes his hips to punch forward and he thrusts into me deep, causing me to instantly shatter once again. My body bucks from the force of my orgasm and my moan turns deeper, more animalistic. As if the flame of my orgasm causes Roman’s to fire, he pulls back and then dives in deep one more time, his hand going to my hips to dig in and hold me in place. He grinds his hips against me and his mouth pulls away from mine as he starts to come. Roman throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, and a long gust of breath comes outs as he releases…body trembling, fingers digging into my flesh, his face a mask of exquisite pleasure.
It’s so beautiful…I feel a storm of euphoria sweep through me that has nothing to do with what our bodies just shared, but everything to do with what our hearts did.
After, when our pulses calm and Roman leaves me briefly to take care of the condom, we wrap ourselves in each other’s arms and burrow in deep under the covers. We lay on our sides, bodies pressed tight and our limbs tangled.
“We should fight more,” I say into the darkness, feeling almost smug that we overcame this little hiccup.
Roman is silent for a moment, and I wait for him to tease me back, but instead he says, “You’re not an easy woman to fall for.”
This surprises me so much my body jerks slightly, which causes his arms to tighten around me. He immediately explains. “I’m just saying…you make me feel things that are so new and foreign that half the time I’m struggling just to figure out what the hell is going on with me.”
I relax, as I understand what he’s saying. Roman’s never had a relationship where you owe your time and attention to someone. He’s never had to make someone a priority and he’s trying to find his balance. It makes me smile brightly on the inside to know it’s actually a struggle for him, because even if it’s hard, he’s still clawing his way through these emotions to make it work with me.
What I want to tell him can’t be said. I want to say that he’s not easy to fall for either. Our relationship is fettered with his inability to give certain things like time with my family or his grueling work schedule that takes him away from me for days at a time. I don’t mention my frustration with him and Gray. I don’t share with him that I worry on a daily basis about whether we’ll be able to reach a place where I can have all the people in my life like and respect one another. I don’t tell him the tensions that permeate those issues are causing me heartburn and some sleepless nights.
Instead, I merely snuggle in closer to him and tell him, “It will get easier, Roman.”
He surprises me when he says, “If it was hard, everyone would do it. I kind of like the challenge.”
I pull back my face, which had been burrowed into his neck. Although I can’t see him in the dark, I try to imagine the look on his face. Is it open and is he saying that he wants to try to move this a little deeper?
Without a clear answer, I can only venture forward and push at his boundaries a bit where it’s warranted. “You know my birthday’s next week, right?”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Yup. And I have the perfect gift for you.”
Okay, that makes me feel good that he’s already given this thought.
“My dad wants to have a birthday dinner for me at his house,” I say quickly into the dark. “He’s going to invite Georgia, and of course, Ryker, Gray, and the girls will be there. It will be my first time meeting Ruby and Violet, and well…I want you to come too.”
He doesn’t respond at first, the silence heavy and oppressive. His thumb, which had been lazily rubbing against the hollow of my lower back, keeps moving, though, and finally…with a small sigh of capitulation, he says, “Sure. I’d love to come.”
“Really?” I ask, unable to contain my glee.
“It’s your birthday,” he mutters. “I’ll make a special exception for that.”
Hmmmm…maybe not what I would have liked to hear, but it’s a start. I think once Roman is gently worked into the family dynamic, and assuming he and Gray can learn to be at least politely respectful of each other, I’m sure he’ll fit in just fine.