Mary looked at Roman no differently than she had before. That was a little disappointing, he had to admit. He’d hoped at least a little bit, somewhere deep down, that she’d see that he he wasn’t who she seemed to be so convinced that he was. He wasn’t trouble. He wasn’t bringing trouble. At least, not as far as he knew.
He just wanted to be himself a little. That wasn’t so much to ask, was it? She’d been chill before. And yeah, she was a different person now. Hell, he was a different person. He’d learned to buckle down a little. Learned to work when he didn’t feel like it. Learned that there was more to his job than having every ounce of talent that God could give a man and a big dick.
But then again, first impressions are generally the ones you’re stuck with, like it or not. And he’d formed his first impressions a long time ago, for better or worse.
“I wasn’t so bad, was I?”
“I don’t understand your game here,” Mary answered. Her voice was low enough that she probably hoped nobody could hear. He hoped she was right, for her sake. She seemed to be very concerned about it, and he had no desire to take that away from her. No matter how much fun it might have been.
“Game?”
“I’m not stupid. I know you’ve got an angle here. So why don’t you let me know what it is?”
Mary seemed defensive. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“No game. I just was in town. I did a show last night at Cobo Hall, and I’m in town for a couple days.”
“A couple days, huh? So, what then? You thought you’d crash a few NA meetings?”
“You know some others?”
“Don’t be an ass, Roman, I swear to you—”
“I mean, maybe a few weeks. Look, I don’t get that much time off work. I just thought I’d hang around.”
“And so you went looking for, what? Some old, used…” she swallowed the last word, but he could still see the annoyance in her face. She was angry with him. Angry for something he hadn’t even really done.
“No. And no. I just… I mean, I guess I was looking for you.”
“I’m not some pet. That was one time. Once. I’m a totally different person now.”
“I know that,” he said. “I could tell. It was a lovely meeting, by the way. You run them very well.”
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate how you handled the situation with Barron. I know what you did, and I do appreciate it.”
“Then just let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“I have to take my son—”
“Bring him with. I’m not asking you to get down under the table, okay? I’m not who you think I am.”
She looked like she wasn’t sure of that. She had some very specific ideas about who he was, and he understood why. Ten years was a long time. But that was who he’d been. There was no denying it now.
“No funny stuff?”
“None at all,” he said. She got a thoughtful look on her face. Like she wasn’t too sure what she wanted to do. He twisted his fingers up behind his back and tried to calm himself down. If she didn’t go for it, then that was her right. He didn’t have any room to criticize her. Not even kind-of, really. He knew that.
But it still stung a little bit. She barely knew anything about him. He barely knew anything about her. But that was something he’d hoped to change, at least a little bit.
“You know, if you’re married or something, and worried about that—”
“Not married, no.”
“What about the kid?”
“His father’s out of the picture. Has been a long time.”
“Oh.” There was a moment where the gears in his head started turning, and math started happening. “You don’t mean he’s—”
Roman felt his pulse quickening in his veins. The idea hadn’t even occurred to him. Not in a million years. It had always been possible, on some level, but never a real, tangible thought that he had to worry about.
But that was then, and this was now. He’d more than proved that he could make the biggest mistakes the world had to offer. This was just another one, really. Another stop on his trail of big mistakes. And one that he would rectify in an instant, given half of a chance.
“He’s what? Oh. Yours? No, of course not.” Mary laughed. It was a soft, nervous laugh. Not the sort of laugh that he really expected to hear from her. Like she wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe it was an awkward question.
“No, my boyfriend at the time was, like… my coke dealer, and… eh. Don’t worry about it.”
“Does he know?”
“Who? Pete?”
“The father. Which one is Pete?”
“Pete is… Peter, come here!”
Her voice was loud, for a library. Anywhere else, it might have been a conversational tone.
The boy turned. The same boy who had pointed him in the direction of the NA meeting in the first place. His walk was gangly, like he wasn’t quite used to using his legs. Or like they were asleep, which made sense the way he’d been kneeling.
“This is an old friend of Mommy’s. This is Mr. Roman. Say hello.”
“See?” the kid said to him. “I told you. Nothing to worry about.”
Mary raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” Roman promised. “Over coffee.”