A wheel on the shopping cart squeaks as I roll down the cereal aisle.
From beneath my lashes, I sneak a glance at Roman as he walks next to me. Memories of the last time we were in the grocery store together flit through my head. That was almost three weeks ago, and our relationship couldn’t be more different.
I pluck a box of Honey Nut Cheerios from a shelf and hold it up. “We ran out this morning.” I give it a little shake after a few beats of silence. “You like these, right?” Getting an answer out of him is like pulling teeth sometimes.
His lips lift into an expression that could almost pass for a smile. “Yes, I like them.”
I drop the box into the cart and roll my eyes. “Was that so difficult?”
“Extremely.”
I grab a small box of Grapenuts from the top shelf.
A month ago, I ate bowls of the crunchy cereal for dinner. I haven’t done that since Roman began staying at the house. As I’m about to toss it in with the other groceries, I hesitate. Holding this box makes me realize how lonely my existence was before Roman came into it.
Even when I put myself out there and dated other men, I kept my distance. It was never a conscious decision on my part, but there’s no way to be your most authentic self when you’re hiding vital parts of your life from the person you’re trying to get close to. I self-sabotaged from the get-go and never understood the rut I’d fallen into, in which I bailed once my relationships hit a certain level of intimacy.
No wonder I ate bowls of cereal alone at night while sitting on my kitchen counter.
I used my mother’s maiden name when I left for college to separate myself from the Chicago mafia because I wanted people to see me for me instead of a Valentini. But all I did was isolate myself from them because I couldn’t risk having my real identity exposed.
It’s different with Roman, though. I’m free to be me with him because he knows everything about my family. This is the first adult relationship I’ve been in where there are no false pretenses, and it’s more liberating than I ever imagined.
The irony is that the shoe is now on the other foot. It’s frustrating to have someone continuously holding back a piece of themselves when all you want is to delve deeper, to continue moving forward. But that’s an impossibility when there are secrets underfoot.
I’m experiencing what the men I dated felt. Roman is withholding the truth from me just as I did to them.
Shaking my head to clear it, I put the Grapenuts back on the shelf.
Good Lord, who would have thought a person could have an epiphany in the cereal aisle? I want to laugh, but there’s nothing amusing about the situation.
“I thought you wanted that?” Roman gestures at the box I just replaced.
I shake my head. No, I don’t want that at all. “Nope.” I smile. “I’m going to give Honey Nut Cheerios a try.”
He raises his brows in confusion, which is fine. For the first time in years, I understand what needs to be done.
“Oh,” I snap my fingers, “I forgot to pick up tea.”
“You stay with the cart. I’ll go back and get it.” He turns and heads in the opposite direction.
I call after him, “Decaf, please!”
He waves a hand and disappears around the corner.
Continuing to push the cart, I throw in a box of chocolate chip granola bars to restock the snack supply I keep in my desk at work for when I can’t take a lunch break. Two boys wearing soccer jerseys barrel around the corner and nearly plow into my cart while I examine a selection of dried fruit. They skid to a halt, shout out quick apologies, and race up the aisle. I watch in amusement as they laugh and pull at each other’s shirts to slow one another. They look to be about ten years old. Their antics remind me of my brothers when they were younger. My mother spent a lot of time knocking their heads together before separating them.
A blonde woman flies around the same corner a few seconds later. “Jacob! Logan! Get back here immediately!”
I’ve seen that murderous look enough times to know that if she gets her hands on them, she’ll go Teresa Valentini all over their butts. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. I highly doubt this woman would appreciate the humor I feel at her expense.
She shoots me a harried expression. “I’m so sorry! You’d think running around on a soccer field for an hour would wear them out.”
I smile in understanding. “I wish I had a tenth of their energy. You need to find a way to bottle and sell it. You’d make millions.”
The lines of tension bracketing her mouth disappear as she chuckles. “Yeah, that’s exactly what my husband says.”
I really could use some of the boys’ boundless energy right now. I’ve been more tired than usual lately. I’ve chalked it up to my extracurricular activities with Roman.
“I’d get so much more accomplished during the day if I had that kind of stamina,” I joke.
She snorts. “Wouldn’t we all?”
Roman rounds the corner with a box of tea clutched in his hand.
The woman has her back turned toward him and glances over her shoulder when she hears his footsteps. Her jovial expression morphs into one of shock. “Roman?”