by Monica James
I like that Roman will be my first and last, because no matter what happens, nothing, no one will ever trump this memory we’re about to make.
I’m strung tighter than a bow as I toy with the clasp at the front of my lacy bra. Just as it snaps, Roman’s hand shoots out, stopping me from disrobing. My eyes pop open, and I pull away in confusion. Why did he stop me?
“You don’t want to?” I whisper, unable to hide my fears.
His lips, those soft, luscious lips tip into a sinful smirk. “Of course, I do.” The affirmation is confirmed when he hums, his eyes flicking downward. “I just…do you?” He places a tender kiss on my shoulder, circling his tongue, before venturing downward. “Because I want you to know that I didn’t tell you this expecting anything.”
A besotted moan slips past my lips. He inhales, breathing in my essence. The simple gesture is completely desirable, and I arch backward, allowing him full access as he lays feather-soft kisses against my heated skin.
He continues exploring me, his tongue and lips leaving a roadmap of where he’s been. As he kisses lower, over my collarbone, and leading farther down, I know that the answer is yes, I do. I’ve never been more sure of anything before.
Too afraid to speak, I speak with actions, rather than words. I place my hand over his and gently urge him to let go—physically, emotionally. My bra falls to the sofa, exposing me just as he is. My skin prickles in excitement as he takes a moment to examine every inch of my ripened flesh.
He hums, tonguing his upper lip in utter desire. “You’re beautiful. I want you. So much.”
“I want you, too.” It’s the last words spoken as we then speak in a language crafted especially for us.
Our clothes fall to the floor, not a shred left on our skin. We’re naked, body and soul, and it’s fitting, because all layers have finally been stripped bare. All that remains is pure honesty and love.
Roman lays me down on the sofa, ensuring his weight isn’t crushing me, but I want him to. I don’t know where to look, and he quietly smiles at my innocence. As we kiss, he curls his hand around the nape of my neck, tightening his hold as we grow more desperate and intense. The other hand slithers to my hip and then inward. My eyes pop open, and I break our connection, a moan escaping me. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth before nudging closer and closer to my heat. I grow slack when his fingers enter me.
For the next untold minutes, he dominates every inch of my body, and I let him. Sweet torment has never felt this good. He punishes me with a grin slathered to his cheeks.
“You’re sure?” he breathlessly asks, reaching for a condom from his wallet.
Brushing the fallen hair from his brow, I nod, lifting my quivering lips. He melts into me, kissing me and robbing me of breath. But who needs air when…Roman shifts, and we connect in the most intimate way possible. Who needs air when you’ve got this.
“Oh.” I gasp, never feeling so full.
He stills, waiting and watching for me to soften, always putting my needs first, but I want him to let go. I raise my hips and shudder, losing myself in everything but him. He kisses me tenderly, moving in sync with his measured, rocking movements where we unite.
It hurts, but it hurts so good.
It’s slow at first as my body learns this very intricate dance for two, but with Roman as my teacher, it doesn’t take long to catch up. He pushes, and I pull. We move, breathe, and connect in perfect harmony, and I never want this feeling to end.
As we gallop toward the finish line with Roman sheathed inside, I make a promise to myself that no matter what happens, I will fight until the bitter end. Tears spill from my eyes, and Roman suddenly stills, breathless and panting.
“Have I hurt you?” he asks, touching his fingertip to my tears, fear marring him as he searches every inch of my face.
I shake my head. “No. I’ve never been happier. Don’t stop.” I bow my hips, the immense fulfillment unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
“I love you,” he whispers into my ear, kissing over my frantic pulse, biting my chin.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, the friction and feel of being united this way almost too much.
He watches and protects, ensuring my first time is as perfect as it can be. And it is. With our walls no longer erected, we let go and lose ourselves in the simplicity of this…the simplicity of love.
With my palm pressed over his flouncing heart, I explode with a thunderous pleasure, and he follows soon after. He whispers sweet nothings into my ear, promising never to let go…and I hope he never does.
I wake to my second favorite smell in the world—coffee. The first would be the person who is currently clattering around the kitchen.
Stretching like a lazy cat basking in the sun, my body groans, but it’s a contented feeling. Last night was incredible. It exceeded anything I ever imagined it to be. I thought I would be tense and timid, but I wasn’t. The feel of Roman embedded in my body and soul obliterated all fears, and I lost myself in a union that changed me forever.
Brushing the hair from my brow, I sit up, giggling when I see we somehow ended up on the floor. After our tender lovemaking, Roman held me and we fell into a deep sleep. I woke some hours later to a flutter of kisses. They began over my eyelids, cascading down my cheeks, over my lips, and then down between my breasts. As Roman’s tour of my body continued lower and lower, I surrendered and allowed him free rein. We were tangled in each other seconds later, Roman showing me this thing called love comes in many shapes and sizes.
Our first time was tender, getting to know the other’s body, but the second and third time, I blush just thinking about all the wicked things we did.
But now that the morning sun has conquered the moon, I focus on the only thing that matters—Roman’s survival. I simply cannot accept a world where he doesn’t live.
He seems to have accepted his fate. I should know because I was in his shoes not that long ago. But until I’ve exhausted every possible option, I’m not giving up. I only just found him, and I’ll be damned if he gets ripped away from me before we’ve had a chance to live.
Reaching for my cell off the coffee table, I see that it’s after nine a.m. Dialing Dr. Carter’s office, I ask his assistant if I may speak with him for a minute. She connects us, and his jovial voice booms across the line seconds later.
“Lola, it’s lovely to hear from you. Everything okay for your scan this morning?”
“Yes.” I gather the courage to reveal the true reason I called. “I wanted to know…can you recommend any cardiologists?” When he’s silent, I quickly add, “It’s not for me; it’s for a friend.”
“I know of a few. I’ll have Wilma email over a list. Although Dr. Archibald is probably the best person to ask.”
My heart sinks. I was hoping he wouldn’t say that. “Thank you. I’ll see you this afternoon.” I hang up, feeling a complete and utter failure.
“Mornin’.” His smooth voice is like decadent chocolate, and my shoulders instantly sag.
Turning to look at him, I bite my lip, smothering my moan.
The bright sunshine gleaming in from the window highlights everything I admired in the dark of night. His V-muscle is rock-hard, rivaling his washboard abs. His mussed hair sits in rebellious peaks, and that rebellion is challenged by hot nerd status as he’s slipped on his dark-rimmed glasses.
He looks like a Calvin Klein model, but all the more wicked.
His scar is his badge of honor, showing the world he was far stronger than whatever tried to beat him. So does his tattoo. He watches me watch him, and consciously scrubs his chest. “Sorry I don’t have something nicer to offer you.”
Lifting my eyes, I shake my head, pressing the throw I’m swathed in to my chest. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” His pink lips curve into a sexy smile, and I internally combust.
With two coffees in hand, Roman walks to where I sit on the floor. He stops and appears to weigh up the damage from late last night and early this morning. H
e seems incredibly pleased with our efforts. Sitting beside me, he offers me a coffee. “Who were you talking to?”
Nothing slips past him.
Savoring my first sip of much-needed caffeine, I cradle the cup and sigh. “Dr. Carter.”
Roman’s back stiffens. “Are you all right? Do you feel sick?”
I quickly put his mind at ease. “I’m fine. I’m due to see him today. I asked him to take over from…” I leave the sentence hanging.
“Of course, that was a wise thing to do. So you’ll stay in Manhattan?”
I raise my shoulders. “I haven’t given it much thought. I was, but now…”
“Now, what?” he asks, looking at me over the rim of his glasses.
“Now things have changed.”
We’re both quiet, sipping our coffees, most likely our minds browsing over the same page. Last night changed everything. Not just the sex, but with Roman’s condition, I feel like we’re running out of time.
“Last night was—”
“Incredible,” he cockily says, interrupting me. I can’t help but smile.
“Yes, it really was, but I—” Roman’s cup pauses midair, waiting for me to elaborate. “But I, what you told me, how can we change that? There’s got to be some other way.”
He sighs heavily, finishing his coffee before setting the saucer down on the table. “There isn’t. I wish there was.” His response is so matter-of-fact. Blinking back my tears, I hold in my sadness, but Roman sees straight through me. “Hey.” He cups my cheek, his large hand engulfing my face. “It’ll be all right.”
“How?” I turn into his touch, addicted to him. “H-how long have you g-got?” I don’t want to ask the dreaded question, but I need to know.
“Not long,” he softly replies.
My lower lip trembles uncontrollably.
“I didn’t tell you this expecting a miracle to happen. I told you because I want to spend whatever time I have left with you. No more wasting time. We’ve wasted enough. But…”
I swallow nervously, my pulse beginning to rise. “But what?”
“But if it’s too much for you, I totally understand. I come with a lot of baggage,” he says, sincerely.
“So do I,” I reply. “But that didn’t stop you.”
He smirks, and I melt. “How could I? I was smitten the moment I met you. I didn’t stand a chance.”
Memories of us pressed together, skin to skin, assault my brain, and an involuntary whimper slips past my lips.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Roman.
His stare instantly drops to my lips, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop another whimper from escaping. The air crackles around us, and the same budding feeling begins to stir. I remember his lips against my throat as he claimed me with feral possession. I remember never feeling fuller than I did when he moved inside me. He was everywhere, and I liked it.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t stop.” He leans over and places a hot kiss beneath my ear. It kicks me in the solar plexus, and I almost topple over.
I arch backward, allowing him full rein of my body. I give, and he takes. The simplest of touches awakens a deep-rooted hunger, and before long, I want more than just his lips on me. But we have an appointment to make.
We get ready, both in a somber mood over what we face today.
Roman said he wanted a bagel, so I don’t question where we’re going when he leads the way. I’m too lost in my head anyway. However, when I focus on where we are, I feel like I’ve just stepped out of a time machine and landed in the 1970s.
Snapping my head from left to right, I see luscious undergrowth and weeping, flourishing trees surround us. The greenery serves as the backdrop to the large group of strangers decked out in tie-dyed T-shirts and bell-bottom pants.
A soothing voice accompanied by an acoustic guitar floats on the warm breeze, adding to the slightly hippie vibe. A girl stands next to me, eyes closed, a daisy tucked behind her right ear. She seems hypnotized by the music as she sways and sings along to the words.
I look up, about to ask Roman where we are, but when I see his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the ground, I know the answer lies at our feet. Almost afraid to look, I glance downward, only to become aware of the chorus of the song which I now recognize.
At my feet lays one word.
Imagine.
Roman has led me to Strawberry Fields in Central Park.
I instantly forget about my petty drama and offer him the same support he’s constantly giving me. He brought me here because there really was no other place to be. This place brings everything into perspective because we can all imagine.
In the words of Pablo Picasso, “Everything you can imagine is real.”
Sighing, I lean my head against Roman’s shoulder, closing my eyes and getting lost in the magic that encases this miraculous place. People come here to reflect while others just want a break from the concrete jungle.
I’m not sure how long we stand, entranced by the stillness calming my raging nerves. I can understand why June opted for her own Strawberry Fields. When Roman leads the way toward a bench seat, I follow, no questions asked.
I stay snuggled into his side, and he wraps his arm around me. I wish we could stay this way forever, but being here cements what we both know to be true. “There must be something you can do,” I whisper, not even sure if he can hear me.
But he does, loud and clear. “There is.” I raise my head, indicating I’m listening. “I can live whatever time I have left with you and have no regrets.”
“It’s not enough time.” My lip begins to tremble. My emotions are on a roller coaster. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
Roman runs the back of two fingers down my cheek. “Life isn’t measured in time, but rather moments, memories.”
“I don’t want to be a memory.” I know I’m being incredibly selfish, seeing as I was the one, weeks ago, accepting the same fate.
“You’re the best memory I have.”
There is no reasoning with him; he’s made up his mind. I would be a complete hypocrite if I argued because I’ve seen his world from the same side. I let the matter rest, determined not to ruin this moment.
As I’m lost in thought, Roman softly confesses, “Although it is rare, someone who has a life-threatening congenital heart defect can receive a heart transplant. But surgery won’t work for me. I have the scars to prove it.”
Closing my eyes, I try not to dwell on the finality of his comment. I can’t imagine a world without Roman living in it. I would rather imagine a universe where both Roman and I are happy and healthy, where we grow old with our eighteen grandkids surrounding us, retelling the story of when we first met.
Our story isn’t conventional, but it’s ours.
The moment we walk into Dr. Carter’s office, I’m assaulted with memories I wish I could forget. The receptionist, Wilma, smiles when she sees me. “He’s running late. Take a seat.”
Wilma has been here for as long as I can remember. She probably could have retired years ago, but her admiration for Dr. Carter is clearly evident. He’s a good man, and if it weren’t for him, I have no doubt I’d be dead.
I half sit in the black leather seat, unable to stay still. Roman doesn’t hover. He sits beside me and calmly scrolls through emails on his phone.
When Dr. Carter’s office door swings open, I place a quick peck to Roman’s lips. “Lola and…” When Roman turns to look up at Dr. Carter, he adds with surprise, “Dr. Archibald. It’s nice to see you both.” My cheeks flame as I’m certain he saw our not-so-discreet exchange.
“Hello, Dr. Carter. Thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure. I’m happy to see you again.” Dr. Carter is in his late fifties, but time has been kind to him, and he doesn’t look a day over forty-five.
Roman stands beside me, extending his hand. “Nice to see you again, Richard.”
They shake hands, the mutual respect clearly evident. “You too.” The thing I like most ab
out Dr. Carter is that he’s not one for small talk. “Shall we? We have to conduct the scan in the other room.”
I nod, my heart rate beginning to rise.
“Wilma. I will be back in roughly thirty minutes. Hold all calls until then.” She nods and waves goodbye as Roman holds the glass door open for us. We begin walking down the corridor.
“How have you responded to these trials?”
“Good. Better than the first time around.”
Dr. Carter nods, placing his hands into his white lab coat. “Have you overseen her trial, Roman?”
He grows rigid beside me. “For the most part, yes, I have.”
“Perfect. You can sit with me and monitor the scan so we can discuss the results.”
Up until now, I haven’t been nervous or anxious. But now, the reality of what I’m about to do hits home, and I feel faint. I march on autopilot, my mind panning over what the next thirty minutes will reveal. It will have either worked, or not. There is no gray. Just black and white.
“Did you ask Dr. Archibald about recommended heart specialists for your friend? I haven’t had a chance to email you. I’m sorry.”
Roman’s head whips my way, and I gingerly focus on the gleaming white floor. “No, Dr. Carter. I haven’t.” I don’t elaborate, but my lackluster response hints it’s not a topic I wish to discuss further.
Roman is pissed I went behind his back, but I can deal with that later. Right now, I have more pressing issues to deal with, like the intimidating machine that greets me when Dr. Carter opens a door. I’ve been in this machine many times before, but now, there is a sense of urgency surrounding it.
Dr. Carter smiles. “You remember what to do?”
I nod, nervously tugging on my bottom lip. He begins pressing multiple buttons and preparing the MRI machine while I finally meet Roman’s eyes.
“Sorry,” I whisper, but he shakes his head, gently running his pointer along the length of my neck. I don’t have a chance to relish in the touch because it was for a reason. He carefully removes Sadie’s necklace—which I recently fixed—into his pocket.
