by Joya Ryan
“I am, but I can take a long weekend. I’ve already cleared it with my boss.”
It was the one thing that wasn’t on the schedule Roman had handed Marcy, because Roman didn’t know about my travel plans. Not that it was a “need to know” thing. But Marcy had cleared it all the same.
“We don’t really have the room, Amy,” my mother added, all but telling me I wasn’t welcome.
I pressed my lips together to keep the tears from rising and gave up on the coffee. More of it was on me than in the pot.
Channeling any strength I had left, I cleared my throat and said, “That’s okay, Mom. I’ll stay in a hotel. Why don’t I call you when I’m in town? Because I will be there.”
I heard her exhale long and low and in that moment, I didn’t care that she didn’t want me. Lauren was important to me and I wanted to be there, just like every other year. Maybe it was strange, but the anniversary of her death was when I felt closest to her. It was the only time I could tell her how sorry I was and feel like she could hear me.
“Do what you like,” my mother said. “Bye-bye.”
I listened to the line die and felt like a useless waste of skin, fighting for yet another situation that “wasn’t about me.”
And it hurt like hell.
The knock on the door jolted me out of a light nap. I sat up on the couch, feeling sore and horrible. It was past dinnertime and today had mostly sucked. Work had dragged by, Hazel was at a late class, and Paige still wasn’t home.
Making my way to the door, I adjusted my sweatshirt and sweatpants. Then I opened the door, and about lost my stomach when I saw who stood on my porch.
Warren.
He had one hand on the doorjamb and was eyeing me with such venom, he could easily have passed for part snake.
“What are you doing here?”
“It took me a minute,” he started, leaning in and making me really uncomfortable. “But after I saw you today, everything clicked.”
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I’m not interested.”
“Oh, I think you will be. Because it’s your fault the governor is flipping on me.”
“Excuse me?”
Warren straightened to his full height, which, when paired with the glare in his hazy blues, was a little scary.
“Reese was set to support me, back my campaign to run for a house seat. Now all of a sudden, something has changed.” He slid his foot forward just enough to technically be inside my home. “And that change is you.”
I swallowed hard, and tried to back away slowly without looking like I was retreating. Realizing how very alone I was, I did my best not to let my fear affect my expression.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Warren. I didn’t even know you were running until recently.”
“I don’t believe you!” He struck my door with the palm of his hand, and I winced a little at the sudden bang. “I think you’ve been talking shit about me and fucking the governor to get what you want.”
Respond quickly, I reminded myself. Hoping a straight posture would camouflage my trembles, I lifted my chin and spoke the way I had been practicing.
“I don’t have any say in his politics, Warren. You’re not welcome here, and I’d like you to leave.”
This was not a conversation I wanted to be having, but unfortunately, what I wanted didn’t matter just then. The truth was, if I could sway the governor to oppose Warren, I would. He was an asshole. Now, hearing Warren whine about Roman flipping on him, I was half confused and half happy.
I didn’t know what Roman’s motives were, of course. Today, he’d made clear that his job wasn’t my business. Warren, however, seemed to have his own theory.
“A Cunningham has sat in a house seat for the last five decades. I’ll be damned if some small-town whore is going to fuck with that.” That time when he snarled, I smelled the alcohol on his breath. “And you’re going to fix what you’ve done, Amy.”
“I haven’t done anything,” I said again in the calmest voice I could muster, hoping to defuse the situation so he would go away and I could lock my door.
“Reese is going to announce his support for that seat in a few weeks. If you don’t convince him that I’m the man for the job, then I’ll tell him what kind of person you really are.”
My heart lurched in my chest, and every ounce of blood I had in my face drained away. The night I’d been stupid enough to open up to Warren all those years ago had returned to hit me.
“You think he’ll still want you around when he finds out you let your sister die?” Warren tsk-tsked, and bile rose in my throat. “Won’t look so good for his campaign to be dating someone like you. Hell, you can’t even get your own parents to like you.”
My entire ribcage was shaking from my efforts to exhale. Breathing was difficult, and I struggled for control because the moment I gave into panic, I would crash in a tailspin of self-loathing. And I would crash hard. I couldn’t do that in front of him.
He tapped his chin. “I wonder what one would call what you did? Accessory to involuntary manslaughter?” He glanced at the sky. “You know, that has a nice ring to it.” Stepping away with the most evil look I’d ever seen, he stared me down. “Think about what I said.”
He turned and damn near skipped off my porch. “Have a nice night, Amy.”
I immediately shut the door and locked the deadbolt. Pressing my back against the door, I sank to my knees and cried.
Chapter Fourteen
What an asshole,” Paige said, pacing in front of the coffee table with her hands on her hips.
I sat on the couch and watched her brow furrow while she thought, until finally she faced me.
“Okay, let’s look at the facts,” she started in true Paige fashion. “First of all, the governor never committed his support to Warren.”
“Did you know he was running?” I asked.
“Not until recently. I didn’t even know he was going to be at the fundraiser. He announced he would run right after that. I should have known though,” Paige grumbled. “He’s going for his mother’s seat, and Bill is pushing for him to get it. He thinks another Cunningham on the house floor will keep the relationship in our favor. But from what I gather, Roman isn’t so sure.”
She started pacing again.
So Roman hadn’t committed, but Bill was on Warren’s team. No matter how hard my brain worked to find a solution, one fact kept rearing its head: This isn’t my place.
I understood that Roman had to do what was right for his office and for New York. I just had a hard time believing Warren Cunningham was a right choice for anything, especially when blackmail came so easily to him.
“Maybe I should tell Roman about Warren’s threats,” I said out loud, not sure if I was asking Paige’s permission or trying to convince myself this was a viable option.
“Then you’d have to tell him everything,” Paige said, stopping and staring at me.
My hands instantly went clammy, and the need to cry, or throw something—preferably at Warren’s face—rose to the surface.
“If Roman finds out what I did to Lauren…”
“Stop,” Paige snapped. “You didn’t hurt Lauren. She’s the one who took the pills.”
I rested my forehead in my palm. The world felt very heavy all of a sudden.
“Listen to me very carefully.” Paige came and sat next to me. “I know you’re a good person, and I know you deal with a lot of shit about Lauren from your parents and now this douche, Warren, but you have to remember: You didn’t kill your sister.” She grabbed my hand and gently shook it. “Do you hear me?”
I nodded, yet my chest still hurt. I wanted to argue that I’d had a responsibility to Lauren and I’d failed her, but Paige’s stern look made me keep my mouth shut.
“Good, because what I’m going to say next is going to suck.”
My eyes shot to hers as my entire body tensed in dread.
“
I’m going to be honest with you, Amy. If Roman, or anyone else, finds out about that night, the media can, and probably will, spin it to reflect badly on you and Roman. This is a political race and there are a lot of assholes out there. Smear campaigns, and questions about your character and Roman’s, will come into play. It won’t look good.”
I swallowed hard. “Could Roman lose because of this…because of me?”
“If it gets spun how Warren hopes it will, and your parents say one word to anyone about their thoughts on the matter?” Paige took a deep breath. “It could cause some serious damage to Roman’s campaign.”
Now my head really felt like it was going to implode. I’d never intended any of this, for Lauren or Roman. Now everyone was tangled together and I was the one in the middle, the one at fault. Roman was a good man and an honest one, which was hard to find in any situation, let alone politics. If he lost because of me…
“No,” I whispered. “He can’t lose.”
“Then this can’t leak.” She patted my hand. “Does anyone else besides your parents, Warren, and me know the details about that night?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never told anyone else, and I don’t think my parents have either.”
“Okay. Then for now, it’s contained. We just need to keep it that way.”
“What do I do? I can’t push for Warren’s interests. Just the thought of him makes me sick. Plus, Roman would never believe I’d truly help my ex after the way he’s treated me.”
“That’s true,” Paige agreed. “All you can do right now is buy yourself time. Warren wants that seat, but he needs the governor’s support to have a shot at winning it. The man he’s going up against has more experience, a better track record, and a relationship with the governor. Warren won’t rat you out until the governor has declared his support for one candidate or the other.”
“And that’s in a few weeks?”
Paige nodded.
“And Roman can’t declare his support after he’s won another term, because all offices are up for election on the same day, huh?”
“Yes, but again, this is all up to Roman. Let him decide who he’s going to support, and pray to God that Warren keeps his mouth shut. Otherwise, we need to be prepared for the fallout.”
Shit. I had three weeks to come up with a Plan B. Figure this out, come clean, or risk Roman’s campaign.
“This blows, Paige,” I mumbled into my hands.
“Yeah.” She patted my back. “Unfortunately in this game, you go up against a lot of dicks.”
Toweling my hair dry after a longer than usual shower, I looked through my closet for something to wear.
Sweatpants being my first choice.
I hadn’t heard from Roman since I’d left his office three days ago, after the pork chop sandwich fiasco. Between Warren’s icky threats, Lauren’s impending anniversary, and an MIA “boyfriend,” zippers just seemed like another complication I didn’t want to deal with. Yep, sweatpants were a winner.
“Amy?” Hazel called from the living room. “Will you come here for a second?”
I threw on said sweats and a T-shirt. Still patting the ends of my hair with the towel, I opened my bedroom door and walked into the living room. I only made it two steps because I could barely see, being in the midst of a losing battle with tangles.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, not much,” Hazel said sweetly.
My hair was a wet, blonde wall over my eyes, so I bent over to gather it.
“Just entertaining the governor of New York.”
My head snapped up and all my hair hit my back, sounding like muted firecrackers against cement.
Roman stood in the doorway holding two paper cups of coffee. He was in dark jeans and a black wool coat, looking tailored and casual all at the same time. Could the man ever not look hot?
“Hi,” I said, a little shocked.
His eyes raked over me, the one look leaving me warmer than my recent shower. Hazel smiled at him, then at me, obviously happy to be witnessing this awkward exchange of silence.
“I stopped by to see if you’d like to go for a walk with me?” He held up his hands, “I brought coffee.”
I let out a breath, one I’d been holding for the past two days and hadn’t realized it.
“That’d be nice.” I looked down at myself. “Let me just put on some jeans and get my coat.”
“No, I can wait until you dry your hair.”
“It’s okay. I can just throw it up in a ponytail.”
“I insist that you dry your hair,” he said.
I stopped and looked at him. “Why?”
“It’s really cold outside and wet hair can get you sick.”
I swear I heard Hazel sigh, the way she did when she watched chick flicks, and clap her hands a little.
“That’s so thoughtful,” Hazel said. “Would you like to sit down, Governor?”
He unleashed one of those “I belong on the cover of Forbes” smiles, and Hazel got a little giddy.
“Thank you so much, and please call me Roman.”
Did Hazel just flip her hair and giggle? Once again, the Roman Reese charm was in full effect.
“You sure you don’t mind waiting?” I asked.
He sat on the couch and put the coffees on the end table. “For you? Not at all.”
He smiled at me, and now I wanted to giggle. The law should require him to register that charm as a weapon.
There was so much to talk about, so much I wanted to say, but between Hazel and my frazzled nerves—I mean, Roman was actually sitting in my living room—I was a bit too frantic for small talk.
He’d entered my apartment when, a few weeks ago, he made a big deal about not doing so. I was learning quickly that Roman needed time to process, just like I did. Did I wish he’d gotten in touch at least once over the past few days? Yes. But this was progress, right? He was here. Taking literal steps toward me and my small little world in Arbor Hill.
I hopped into jeans and made quick work of my hair, blow-drying it, then plating it into a simple braid. Topped off with a warm hat, coat, and scarf, I was ready.
Emerging from my room, I found Hazel and Roman chatting. She was smiling and Roman was as sweet as ever. His thick voice carried though our tiny apartment and made everything feel more…full.
I liked having him here. A certain hope and relief spread through me. He’d actually come. I hadn’t had to go to him this time. He’d ventured into enemy territory to see me.
“I’m ready.” I smiled and he rose. He handed me the coffee he’d brought for me and opened the front door.
“It was very nice to meet you, Hazel.”
“You too, Roman. Come back anytime.”
He glanced at me and, with a smoldering heat, said, “I just might do that.”
Tingles bloomed in my stomach. Like a small step had just been taken. And it had been a step initiated by Roman—toward me.
With his coffee in one hand, Roman clasped mine in the other, our fingers entwining, and walked us toward the nearby park. The sidewalk was slick with last night’s rain and only a few people lined the street.
“I apologize for my tone the other day,” he began.
I looked up at him, a cool breeze hitting my face. “I shouldn’t have overstepped. It’s your job, your life. You were right.”
He stopped and looked at me, like this was some kind of trick. Which was cute, because I could see how a man like him would think that if conversations seemed too easy to be true, they probably were.
“Look, I just want you to know that I’m not going to interfere with you being governor and all,” I said.
Warren’s nasty face flashed through my mind. Ken Stanton, however, was a good guy, and I wouldn’t try to sink him with Roman. I didn’t have a plan yet for how all this would play out, but I had time. And in that time, I would stick to the truth, which was, “Roman, you’re an amazing man and a great governor.” I looked up at him, getting lost in his dark eyes. �
�Whatever needs to happen in relation to your office is your call. I know that certain matters don’t concern me.”
He gripped my hand a little tighter and that dark gaze grew hotter. “You matter to me.”
His voice was rough, and as if he couldn’t look at me too long, he kept walking, staring straight ahead. Something confused and almost angry plagued his face.
I laughed a little and sipped my coffee.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“Yeah. You say things like that, super sweet things that make me all…” I wiggled my shoulders, “warm and fuzzy. But then I see your face, and it looks like you’re pissed as hell.”
He grinned. “I’m realizing things that are surprising to me, and it’s an adjustment.”
I could understand that. Everything about Roman was an adjustment for me. But truth be told, I liked the way he pushed me, because I felt more alive, more connected to him, when he did it. I felt like a real human being when I was near him.
“So, certain realizations have you upset?” I nudged him a little.
“Politicians don’t get upset.” He grinned. I recognized the go-to answer, and knew Roman was thinking more than he was speaking.
“You matter to me too,” I said. “And it is an adjustment, but I kind of like you, so…” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll learn to deal with it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t dream of causing you distress, Miss Underwood,” he said, smiling.
“Then learn how to use a damn phone.”
The smile turned into a deep chuckle, and the sound of something so contented from Roman was amazing. For a moment, things didn’t seem so hard. I could almost forget that Warren was threatening me, and that this “relationship” with Roman technically wasn’t real. I could even almost look past the gut-wrenching emptiness I’d been carrying around for the past seven years.
Almost.
“Now you look like the one who’s upset,” he said.
I took a sip of coffee and took in the expanse of street before us. “Just warding off bad thoughts.”
“Want to talk about these bad thoughts?” His tone was soft, not pushy, his words just an offer.
