by Linda Verji
Isis turned to Roman. “Go to the store and get fresh packs.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Roman retorted even though just moments ago he’d made the offer himself. “Go to the store yourself.”
Isis shook her finger at him. “You better go while I’m still being nice.”
“And if I don’t?” he retorted as a smile crooked his mouth. It was fun to rile up his sister. Even though she was all of thirty-six, Isis always rose to the bait like she was still ten and he was eight.
Isis’s chin rose slightly and her nose flared. “Little boy, don’t test my-”
“Isis, leave your brother alone,” Patricia interrupted their fight.
“Ma, why are you always coming to his defense?” Isis turned on their mother with a pout.
“Because I’m the baby - ” Roman edged closer to his mom and slung his arm across her shoulder. “- and her only son.”
“Well, I was born first.” Isis shoved his arm away from their mother. “And I’m smarter than you.”
The two continued to argue back and forth about who was Patricia’s favorite while their mother listened on in amused silence. They were still arguing when Greyson and Snow appeared in the backyard, carrying their contribution to Sunday dinner, a green bean casserole. The moment they saw the burnt pieces of steak that were supposed to be the star of the meal, the protests started.
Greyson made a face. “I’m not eating that.”
Snow, meanwhile, turned her wrath on Roman. “I bet you’re the one who gave her that idea, you cheapo.”
“I did not,” Roman protested. “I offered to go to the store.”
“He’s lying,” Isis cut in.
“Step away from the meat, Aunt Patty.” Greyson came up behind Patricia and cupped her shoulders. “Roman and I will go and get fresh meat.”
“No. No. Look. It looks good as new,” Patricia protested as she tried to shrug off her nephew’s hands.
“Get her, Grey,” Isis encouraged with a laugh. “Otherwise we’ll all end up with food poisoning.”
“Wait, wait-” Patricia started but her words got cut off by the sudden ring of her phone. With a threatening look at each of the younger adults, she answered the call. After a few ‘oh’ and ‘really’ and ‘you shouldn’t have’, she ended the call. Her expression was annoyed as she said, “That was your father. He says he’s already gone to the store to get fresh meat.”
“What?” Roman glanced towards the trampoline. “I thought he was…” His words drifted as he realized that his father was long gone.
“When did he even leave?” Isis asked, but there was no surprise in her voice probably because the abrupt disappearances by their father were nothing new. Richard was such a quiet man that it was easy to forget him.
“I’m not complaining.” Greyson made another sour face as he stared at the meat on the cutting board. “At least we don’t have to eat that.”
“You all are so spoiled,” Patricia berated. “When I was your age-”
“Oh, there she goes again.” Isis cut in with a roll of her eyes.
“She’s about to start talking about how she wore one pair of shoes until the soles fell off,” Roman added.
“Don’t forget about that threadbare sweater that she wore for three years straight,” Greyson piped in with a laugh in his voice.
“Did she also have only bread and water for lunch like my father?” Snow cheerfully joined in the teasing.
Despite her best effort to act annoyed, Patricia’s age-lined face burst into a grin.
The rest of Sunday dinner was just as cheery and filled with laughter. To Roman, his family was the most important part of his life and he would do anything for them. Even though he was frugal with a lot of things, when it came to his family he was exceedingly generous.
The first thing he’d done with his first baseball paycheck was purchase a home for his parents. After everything they’d gone through to raise them, all the suffering, all the dreams that had been put on hold, it was the least he owed them. How they’d stuck together for thirty-seven years despite all their problems was a miracle that deserved its own page in the Bible. It was the kind of marriage he wanted.
Growing up he’d sworn that he’d find a woman who could stick with him through thick and thin, sickness and poverty. A woman who was as selfless and strong as his mother. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t found her. Sometimes, he wished he’d married or at least entered a committed relationship before baseball. Then he could be sure that the woman he was with was with him because of who he was and not because of his money.
In the last couple of years, he’d even began to think that his mother was one of a kind. That they’d stopped making women like her, and that today’s woman was all about herself and what a man could do for her. But then Snow had entered Greyson’s life and revived Roman’s hopes of finding a good woman.
As they ate dinner, he kept glancing at Greyson and Snow. With Greyson being so blond and Snow being dark-skinned, they should’ve been an odd pair. Yet Roman was hard-pressed to find a couple that matched so well. Snow’s cheery, friendly and easygoing nature was the perfect foil to Greyson’s stoic, straight-laced and standoffish nature.
Because of Snow, Greyson had become less uptight and more forgiving to the point where he’d settled a long-time grudge he had against his mother. Snow had made Greyson a better man, and just seeing the way she looked at him, it was obvious that she was completely and irrevocably in love with him, as he was with her. If Greyson could find a woman like that, then there was still hope for Roman.
April, a voice whispered in his thoughts. Roman sat up straighter at the suddenness of that thought. Why would he even think about her? If there was ever a woman who was wrong for him, then it was April. Not her. Yet even as he mentally berated himself for even thinking about her, there was no denying the stab of longing that seared through him. No, not April, he insisted. As a friend, yes, but not as life partner.
In the spirit of reviving that friendship, he cornered Snow as she was loading plates and bowls into the dishwasher. “Hey, do you know what’s up with April?”
“What do you mean?” Snow met his eyes.
“I don’t know.” Roman leaned back against the counter as he explained, “She just seems angry at me.”
“Have you asked her why she’s angry at you?” Snow turned back to the dishwasher. Her lack of surprise at the news that April was angry at him was a sure sign that she knew what was going on.
Watching her keenly, Roman said, “I have but she’s not talking. Do you know what could be the problem?”
Snow was quiet for a long moment then she said, “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“C’mon, Snow,” he protested.
“Seriously. April is my friend and the stuff she tells me is between she and I.” Snow met his eyes again. “If you want to know what’s going on, talk to her.”
“Can’t you give me a hint?” Roman wheedled.
“No.”
“Just a little one.”
“No.”
“C’mon, Princess.” He turned to sling an arm around her shoulder. “Help a brother-in-law out.”
“No.”
“Get your hands off my fiancée.” A deep voice cut in before Roman could beg more. They both turned to see Greyson entering the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty dishes.
“And if I don’t?” Roman taunted.
“We both know my fists are faster than yours,” Greyson threatened, but there was an amused edge to his words.
“Calm down, Tyson,” Roman teased as he dropped his arm from Snow.
“Thank you,” Snow said when Greyson set the tray on the counter next to her. “Are there any more?”
“No, this is the last batch.” Greyson glanced toward the dishwasher. “Need any help?”
“No, I got this. You can just finish watching the game. Thanks for offering though.” She lifted on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before she said, “And tak
e your cousin with you when you leave.”
Greyson shot Roman an amused look. “Is he bothering you?”
Snow nodded. “A lot.”
“Hey, I’m right here,” Roman protested.
Greyson ignored him to ask Snow, “Bothering you about what?”
“April!” She traded looks with Greyson then they burst into laughter.
Roman, who didn’t understand what was so funny, asked, “What? Why did you both laugh?”
The two kept on laughing despite his demands to know more. Still grinning, Greyson slung an arm across Roman’s shoulder and bodily led him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Seriously, what’s so funny about me asking about April?” Roman asked as he let his cousin to guide him into the hallway.
Greyson didn’t answer the question. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall to stare at Roman. “What’s April done to rile you up this time?”
“I’m not the one who’s riled up. She is.” Roman leaned back against the wall opposite Greyson. “And I don’t know why.”
“Have you asked her?”
“Of course I’ve asked her! But she won’t tell me what’s wrong. And now she’s-” Roman paused mid-sentence to ask, “You know Javier Consuelos right?”
“Javier Consuelos… Javier Consuelos…” Greyson tested the name on his tongue for several seconds before his blue eyes lit up. “Your team’s outfielder?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy!” Even the thought of Javier was enough to send anger spurting through Roman. Frowning, he said, “April’s now cavorting around with him.”
Greyson chuckled. “Since when did you start using the word cavorting?”
“You know what I mean.” Roman dismissively waved the teasing aside before he explained, “She’s mad at me, and now she and Javier are dancing around each other.”
Greyson folded his arms over his chest. “What makes you think that those two events are in any way related? April could be cavorting with Javier because she wants to. Not because she’s mad at you.”
“Because she wasn’t doing it before.” Roman gave his cousin an annoyed look. What was so difficult to understand about the situation? Anyone with common sense could see what was happening. April was angry with him and now she was replacing him with Javier.
“Her and Javier’s dancing around each other could be completely coincidental,” Greyson said, proving that he was just as dumb as Roman suspected. “She’s a single woman. It’s to be expected.”
“She’s not-” Roman caught himself before he could complete the sentence. Of course April was single. Frustration biting at him, he said, “Javier isn’t the right guy for her.”
“Maybe he is, and maybe he isn’t.” Greyson studied him keenly. “What’s it to you?”
“I-he- she-” Roman stopped speaking because he didn’t know the answer to the question. Also, the knowing and amused look in Greyson’s eyes was making him very uncomfortable. The truth was that he shouldn’t care who April was involved with. But he did. He cared very, very much! Reaching for the most convenient explanation for his irrational feelings, he said, “She’s my friend. I don’t want her hurt.”
His cousin eyed him. “Are you sure that’s the reason you’re sticking your nose into her business?”
“Of course,” Roman insisted. “What other reason would there be?”
Greyson watched him for a long uncomfortable moment before sighing. “Be careful, Roman. At this rate, you’ll end up like Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Roman frowned as he tried to dredge up where he’d heard that name from the recesses of his memory. Then it hit him. “Oh… Charming? Snow’s ex?”
“Yeah.” Greyson nodded. Up until about a year ago, Snow had been one half of a twelve-year relationship. Charlie, or Prince Charming as the staff of Tellers liked to call him, had been the other half. Greyson continued, “He didn’t appreciate what he had and it got snatched right from under his nose.”
“You mean you snatched it right from under his nose.” Roman laughed.
Greyson chuckled too before he sobered up again to warn, “If you’re not careful, it will happen to you too. Some man will come by and take April while you’re not looking. Then it will be too late for you.”
“Charming and I are different.” Roman snorted. “He was in love with Snow and I’m not in love with April.”
Greyson watched Roman for another long while before he shook his head. “I always thought you were smart.” He pushed away from the wall. “Guess I was wrong.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Roman asked, but Greyson was already striding away. Roman pursued him. “Hey, what the hell does that mean?”
But apparently Greyson was done speaking. No matter how Roman pushed, all he got was an amused look and a shake of the head. Roman wasn’t dumb. Of course he knew that his cousin was implying that he was in love with April. But he wasn’t.
He really wasn’t.
He couldn’t be.
He’d done everything in his power to keep that from happening, steeled his resolve with constant reminders that she only liked him because he was the famous Roman Teller. He couldn’t be in love with her. However, as he drove home, Greyson’s amused, knowing looks kept taunting him, as did his words. If you’re not careful, it will happen to you too. Some man will come by and take April while you’re not looking. Then it will be too late for you.
Those words pricked and prodded him until for the first time since he and April had met, he sent her a goodnight text message first. He lay on his bed, playing games on his phone while he waited for her reply. That reply never came.
And for the first time, Roman felt nervous.
CHAPTER 8
April was in her parents’ bedroom when Roman’s message came in.
Goodnight. The message was one word, simple, and yet it sent uncountable bolts of thrill lancing through her. Considering how she’d slammed the door in his face after he’d been generous enough to bring her home and carry her up the stairs, he should’ve been angry at her. Furthermore, he’d never initiated their night conversations. She was always the one who craved him, the one looking for him. Yet here he was, sending her goodnight messages, looking for her.
It was an undeniable stroke to her ego.
Her first instinct was to reply the message immediately. But then she remembered all the things he said about her.
No. Nope. Bye, boy! With a huff, she tossed her phone back on the bed.
“Who’s that making you sneer?” her mother, Manuela, dragged her from her thoughts.
“No one you know.” April glanced up at her mother.
Even at sixty-two, Manuela Izzo Merit, was a beautiful woman. Her face, though lined with age, was bright and constantly beaming. Laugh lines creased the edges of her eyes as if she’d lived, and was still living, a happy life. Her body though curvy wasn’t heavy enough to be termed as overweight. The woman could still get it!
April wished that she aged half as well as her mother, but she wasn’t too sure considering how different they looked. Manuela’s auburn hair was waist-length, long and straight; April’s hair was long but it was a dusty brown and curled into kinky, corkscrew curls that were the very devil to maintain. Where Manuela was short, booby, hippy and curvy, April might as well have been a long ruler with some bee-sting breasts thrown in to fool people into thinking that she was a woman.
Even their skin color was different; where Manuela was olive-toned, April was much darker. She hoped that meant that her wrinkles wouldn’t show as much as her mother’s, but who knew. The only thing that marked them as mother and daughter was their large, wide-set eyes and mouth.
“How do you like the dress?” April asked as she watched her mother twirl in front of the mirror.
“Mm. Mija, you know your mama well.” Manuela’s Puerto Rican roots rang clear in her light accent and boisterous tone. Smoothing the white dress over her tummy, she asked, “Why didn’t
you bring me a pair of shoes to match it?”
“Because I had to buy myself something too.” April reached for the shopping bag she’d come with and extracted a pair of white pumps with gold heels. “What do you think?”
“Ai ai ai!” Manuela rushed over to the bed and picked one shoe. Admiration in her eyes, she turned it over. “They’re so pretty.”
“Aren’t they?” April grinned as she put on the pump she was holding and lifted her leg to show her mother. “Look at that! Chills.”
Manuela bent and plucked the shoe from April’s foot and moved to the other side of the bed. “Thank you for the shoes, baby.”
“Mama,” April protested. “Those are mine.”
But she was too late. Her mother was already wearing the shoes and preening in front of the mirror. “You’re a good daughter.”
April laughed. “They don’t even fit you, you greedy woman.”
“I’ll just stuff them with tissue.”
“You’re crazy. Gimme back my shoes.”
“They’re not your shoes anymore. Say goodbye.” Manuela lifted one foot off the floor, and that shoe promptly fell off causing April to burst into laughter.
April’s father chose to walk into the bedroom right then. “What’s so funny?”
“Your girlfriend.” April chuckled. “Tell her to give me back my shoes.”
One look at Ernie Merit and it was easy to see where April got her height from. Ernie was tall, slender and dark-skinned. Though he was two years younger than Manuela, he looked a little bit older. It was probably because of the gray hairs that salted his neatly cut hair, or maybe it was the salt and pepper moustache he’d recently started sporting to Manuela’s horror.
Ernie gave his wife an admiring glance before his eyes suddenly narrowed. “Are those new?”
April and her mother traded looks, then April gave a small, tentative, “Are what new?”
“The shoes.” Proving himself as eagle-eyed as ever, he added, “And the dress.”
Both Manuela and April immediately responded, “No.”
But Ernie wasn’t fooled. He whirled to give April a piercing stare. “I thought you said you were broke.”
