by Alexis James
Roman hasn’t released his hold on my hand since I took it back on the dock and as I gaze down at our interlocked fingers, a wild flutter of happiness takes flight. His much larger hand engulfs mine protectively, and every now and then he’ll turn to me and smile warmly. He’s so happy and relaxed, soaking up the sun next to me in his tank top and shorts, long tan legs outstretched in front of him. Even though this feels like a good, positive step in the right direction, I’m still slightly flummoxed to think that this man has chosen me.
When we reach deeper water, Cruz stops the engine and drops anchor, and Marco hands out beers to everyone. I’m not really a beer gal, but I happily play along and take small sips. Amita suggests that the group goes swimming and to my horror, Emmy is one of the first ones ready to jump in, quickly shedding her T-shirt and shorts and hopping around in her yellow bikini.
“Em, I’m not so sure about this.” All I can think about are sharks and other predators out there waiting to eat my child.
“We’ve got her, Sabrina,” Marco reassures me as he strips his shirt off and greets me with his hard, chiseled abs. “Amita and I will keep her close. I promise.”
“Um, okay. Thank you.”
Amita grins at me. “You stay here and keep this hunky guy under control. We’ve got you covered.” My eyes practically bug out of my head when she rips off her sundress and stands before me in a tiny red bikini that barely covers all the necessary parts. Wow, if I felt inferior before, I really do now. The woman is flawless with her flat stomach, softly rounded hips and generous breasts that Marco seems fixated on. She takes it all in stride though, smacking him on the stomach with her hands and shooting me a cocky, confidant grin.
Silently I watch while the three of them step down the ladder into the water and moments later there’s a bunch of squealing and yelling as Marco chases the girls around and splashes water in their faces. With a sigh of relief, I sit back against the seat and sip at my beer, turning my head to find Roman staring right at me with a look of unbridled need. Instantly, warmth centers right between my legs, and I find myself crossing and uncrossing them to attempt to ease the ache.
His fingers trace my jawline as he leans close and whispers, “Thank you for coming out today.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he immediately covers it with his own, giving me a hot, hard, and all too brief kiss. I’m left staring at him wide eyed, my face heating under the public display of affection, grateful that Emmy is off frolicking in the water and won’t be witness to her mother losing her mind over her man.
Her man. My man.
Oh dear lord … is this really happening?
Roman smiles and sits back, reaching down to peel the shirt over his head and toss it aside. I’m fairly certain time stops while I sit there and stare at his body, mouth agape. Thick, corded muscles flex in his arms and shoulders, tapering down to abs cut from stone and a deliciously enticing V that dips into his swim trunks—a V I’d love to run my tongue over while I work my way down. Gasping at the thought, my eyes flash to his, and he shoots me a knowing smirk and a quick lift of one brow.
“You’re turn,” he murmurs, pointing at the simple sundress I’m wearing.
My face flames with embarrassment, eyes darting to the back of the boat where Mia stands next to her man in a black bikini. Curves are the word of the day apparently, which only adds to my nervousness about baring myself, not only to him but to the group at large.
“You’re killing me here.” Turning to face him, he smiles gently and grips my neck with his hand. “Let me see you.” His mouth finds mine again and although this kiss is sweet and gentle, just the barest touch of lips, there’s no doubt in my mind that the man wants more. Much, much more.
Shoving that scary thought aside for now, I take a big breath and get to my feet, undoing the buttons in front to my waist before slipping the dress off and letting it fall softly to my feet. I’d spent all week debating with myself over what to wear and after Emmy quite literally took my ancient and tattered one-piece and tossed it in the trash, I went searching for the perfect suit. It’s quite different than something I’d normally wear, but then again I feel quite different now—certainly not the like the woman who completely avoided life around her for so many years.
The simple deep purple two-piece suit covers all the essentials, though the plunging top does accentuate my cleavage and the ruffles over my breasts make it flirty and fun. Roman is not shy with his perusal, slowly tracing his eyes up and down my body until he finally looks up at me, and I almost bolt at the hot, intense expression on his face.
My cheeks warm as I bend to pick up my dress and shove it in my tote then resume my seat next to him. Happy voices and splashing reminds me all too clearly that now is not the time to be drooling over one another. And besides, I promised myself that if I was going to do this, it would be on my terms. It would be helpful, though, if my body and my head were in sync because right now my body is taking point and if I don’t get my shit together, I might just throw myself at the gorgeous man next to me and let him do all of things he’s eyes are promising.
Amita steps up the ladder into the boat, followed by a laughing Emmy as she tries to shove Marco back into the water. I love seeing my child free spirited and happy, acting exactly like a teenager is. It reminds me that our life must weigh heavily on her at times, with all the shuffling of schedules and late nights at the office. Not to mention the lack of positive male remodels in her life. While I know without a doubt that I do everything to better her life, I do believe she’s missed out on some of the simple joys of childhood.
“Mom, you should go in. The water feels great.” She swipes at her face with a towel and graciously accepts the soda that Cruz hands her.
“Maybe later.” I don’t dare tell her that I’m terrified of swimming in the ocean. Dipping my toes into the surf at the beach is one thing but swimming out in the deep blue water makes me feel nauseous.
All three men decide to take a dip while us girls put together the simple fixings for lunch that Mrs. Moran so kindly sent along. We chatter and laugh while we put together sandwiches, though I notice right away that Mia has a decidedly green pallor about her skin and elects to busy herself changing the music. Come to think of it, she’s been this particular shade of green on a few other occasions when I’ve run into her at the office.
Smiling to myself, I dig through the cooler and come up with a ginger ale, handing it over and whispering, “This will help.”
She smiles weakly. “Thanks.”
“How far along are you?” I whisper, carefully checking to make sure we’re out of earshot of the other two.
“About six weeks. We haven’t told anyone yet.”
Squeezing her hand, I reply, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I wait until she takes a tentative sip. “Don’t let your stomach get empty. That only makes it worse. Eat little bits of bland things, crackers and whatnot, every few hours.”
“Thanks, Sabrina.”
“No need to thank me. I’m thrilled for you both.”
By the time the men return, we’ve got a pile of sandwiches laid out, bags of chips opened, and Mia has popped The Beach Boys into the stereo. One by one, tall, stunning, wet men climb the ladder back into the boat and once more my mouth falls open in shock. Roman moves toward me, snickering at my reaction and wrapping me up in his wet embrace, causing me to squeal and squirm.
“See, no sharks. You should have come in with me.”
The thought of being with him, half naked in the water, fills me with warmth not particularly suitable in mixed company. “No thanks. I prefer swimming pools.”
He winks. “Good to know. I’d love to get you alone. In the water.” He makes no effort to hide the intentions behind his words and embarrassment washes over me. I quickly look away.
When we eventually pull the boat up to the dock a few hours later, we’re all relaxed and happy and slightly sunburned. Emmy, still full of energy, hops off the boat and bou
nces happily up the dock to where Mrs. Moran waits. Roman and I bring up the rear, hands full of damp towels and empty coolers.
After changing into fresh clothes and taming my wild, wind-blown hair, I head to the kitchen where Mrs. Moran, Emmy, and another woman are talking. One look at the stranger and I know she must be one of the two sisters I’ve heard so much about. She’s a younger replica of her pretty mother, sharing the same coloring and eyes and bright contagious smile.
She comes right up to me and gives me a firm hug, stating, “You must be Sabrina. Roman has told me so much about you. I’m Isabella, his much, much younger sister.”
I’m well aware that only a few years separate the siblings, but I chuckle and reply, “It’s so nice to meet you.” I’m very grateful that I spent the entire week bugging Roman to give me the lowdown on his family, although in all honesty they are far kinder and warmer than he described.
Dinner is a lively event, with all four siblings fighting for room to speak. They share funny stories from their childhood, and Mr. Moran tells us a charming story about Roman’s first girlfriend, a tiny redhead he met the first day of kindergarten who he informed his family he was going to marry by day two.
“Ah, Roman, how cute were you,” Emmy gushes, giggling at him.
He shrugs, taking it all in stride and shooting me a wry smirk as he grips my hand under the table. He keeps the touch brief, always cautious not to offend my ever-watchful child. “Very cute, kiddo. Very, very cute.”
“Then what happened?” Marco remarks, grinning from his spot across the table.
“Boys,” Mrs. Moran cautions. The two men murmur apologies to their mother and Isabella and I start to chuckle. They might all be self-assured, somewhat cocky, and incredibly masculine, but their mother clearly has control over each one of them.
Once we’re done eating, Isabella shoes everyone out of the kitchen, grabs Emmy’s hand, and they pair off to handle the cleanup. Roman silently takes me by the hand, pulling me out onto the deck and settling us on the padded bench that faces the water.
Long minutes pass, long, silent moments where we simply enjoy the closeness of one another and the beautiful, warm evening. Darkness slowly descends around us, the lights from inside the house sending an eerie glow across the large deck. I hear laugher and happy voices from inside the house and simply knowing that my daughter is right in the middle of it all makes me smile.
Roman turns to face me, releasing my hand to put his arm around my shoulder and pull me close. “Good day, huh?”
“Great day.”
“Gotta say, I think Mama is in love with your child.”
I grin at him. “Yes, well I think the feeling is mutual.” Sobering, I take his free hand, saying softly, “Thank for sharing your family with us. You have no idea how much it means to me. To both of us.”
Pressing his lips to my temple, he whispers, “No thanks necessary. I’m just thankful you girls came out with us today.”
A flutter of fear scurries across my heart, causing my breath to catch. Everything about today is a complete change from the life I’ve lived since Emmy was born—and possibly even before that as well. As sweet as my parents are, they are not particularly warm and welcoming to strangers—not that we had a lot of strangers in our house when I was growing up; neither of them had any family to speak of and since they were unable to have any kids after they had me, it was usually just the three of us doing things and going places if either of them had a day off. Because of their hectic work schedules, we only ever took one vacation a year and usually it was a three or four-day camping trip somewhere close to home. My parents have never been the adventuring type, always more concerned with putting food on the table. Frivolous things like eating out and entertaining hardly ever took place.
It’s not that my childhood was bad, because it wasn’t. If I had to define it, I’d say it was lonely. I had friends, but none I’d refer to as particularly close and even those disappeared the moment I got pregnant. Being alone is what I know, what I’m comfortable with. Suddenly having this large group of people care about what happens to me feels very, very odd. A whole lot overwhelming and terrifying too. Couple that with all the intensity running between me and Roman and all of a sudden I feel like I need to run far, far away from all the expectations and weight of the responsibilities that comes with caring about people and having them care about me.
Rising, I ask shakily, “Would you mind taking me home? I’m tired.”
If he notices the change in my behavior he doesn’t say. Since he carefully keeps his distance from me while we tell the others goodbye, and even while we settle in the truck, I have a hunch he can tell that something is bothering me. He doesn’t say a word the entire drive to my house and since Emmy’s half asleep, that’s probably a good thing. I suppose I owe him an explanation, but what exactly do I say? Do I tell him that I have cold feet? Do I tell him that he and his family are more than anyone could ask for so why do I deserve him … or them?
My ability to be content with being alone has come from years and years of doing so. I don’t know how to rely on anyone but myself. The fact that I’ve allowed Roman to shoulder part of the responsibility of my daughter in recent weeks says a whole lot about how much I trust the man. But do I trust him with my heart? That’s the bigger issue at hand today. We’ve certainly moved past the coworker stage, but I’m nowhere near ready to take this further. Not now and maybe not ever.
He follows me to the front door and silently hands over our bags, shooting me a wary look after Emmy tells us goodnight and heads off to her room. I set the bags inside the door and force myself to look directly at him.
“Thanks again for today. It was fun.”
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts, he states, “You said you’d give us a chance.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I step out on the porch and pull the door closed behind me so Emmy won’t be able to hear. “I know what I said.”
“So why do you look like you’re ready to tell me goodbye?”
“I … I don’t. I … just …”
He steps closer, into my personal space, but he’s careful to keep his hands to himself. “Really, because it sure feels like you want to tell me to take a hike. Can you explain why?”
Averting my eyes, I murmur, “It’s just a lot, that’s all.”
“I understand that. And I told you we’d go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. So what’s the problem here? Did something change? Did I do something wrong?” Leaning closer, he whispers, “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Tears pinch my eyes the moment I look at him. “It’s all so much. You, your family, all of it. I’ve never had anyone and now all of a sudden there’s a whole bunch of people who actually care about me and my girl.”
“Of course they care. As far as Mama is concerned, you two are family.”
The tears spill over and run down my face. “See … that right there … that’s what I’m talking about. The only family I’ve ever had are my parents and Emmy. No grandparents, no cousins, no aunts and uncles.” With a shuddering breath, I stare down at my sandaled feet. “Even when I was with Will, Emmy’s dad, I never had all this. He didn’t have brothers or sisters either, and his dad took off when he was little so it was just him and his mom.” Leaning against the closed front door, I lift my eyes to his once again. “Does any of this make sense?”
Roman shrugs. “Yeah, sort of. I’ve always had so many people around I guess I forget how overwhelming they can be.”
“No, no, that’s not it. They are perfect … kind and caring and generous. I’m the one who can’t handle it all, who takes all this love and kindness and gets scared because of it.”
A troubled expression crosses his face. “If you need time, take whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere. But you need to understand that this is who I am. Family is my life, just like Emmy is yours.”
I hear the underlying warning in his words, the unwillingness to
bend on this account, and for that I think I fall even harder for him. I’ve never known a man with this intense, deep love for his family, for friendships that were bonded in blood, confidences shared over years and many late-night talks. I’m so envious of what he has and yet nowhere near willing to hand myself over to him and his family and become one of them simply because they are offering something to me I’ve never had.
“I understand.”
We share another long, silent look. Then he turns and walks slowly to his truck. Never once does he look my way or wave or call out goodbye and when his truck disappears down the block, this crushing weight lands in the middle of my chest, pulling my feet right out from under me and sending me with a thud down onto my butt.
I should feel relieved—relieved that he heard me out and is willing to give me time, but relief is the last thing I feel and there’s this nagging doubt in my head that says all too loudly that I may have completely blown my only chance with the one man—the only man—I’ve considered making a life with.
I’m falling hard for him, harder than I ever expected and harder than I really want to that’s for sure. Caring for him, potentially loving him, will not change the fact that we are completely different people who come from different worlds and eventually those differences may cause us to break in two. I want Roman, more than I’ve wanted anyone or anything … ever. Is wanting him enough? Is caring for him, caring about him enough to erase all the worries and fears I can’t seem to ignore?
Getting to my feet, I take a few breaths to clear my head before moving inside the house and securing the door behind me. After telling Emmy goodnight, I shut myself in my bathroom and strip while the shower water warms. Stepping under the spray just as the tears take hold, I cover my face with my hands and silently sob.
