by Lane Hart
“I think you’re falling for him,” Tessa says. “Not that I could blame you…”
“Who knows. Maybe? Or maybe Roman’s just incredibly sweet and attentive to every woman he meets. I guess we’ll find out when I’m ready to go home and it’s time to say goodbye.”
“Right,” she agrees. “Just promise me you’ll be open minded, open to the possibility that he could be the one…”
“Adam was the one. He was my soulmate,” I remind her. “The person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, remember?”
“And I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with Paul, but things happen. People die or go through radical changes. Still, life goes on, for me and for you, Charlotte. You deserve to be happy.”
“Seeing you happy makes me happy,” I tell her when I reach over to grab her hand and give it a squeeze because she’s my best friend and I hate to see her hurting.
Sighing, Tessa gives me a smile that says she knows I’m trying to change the subject but that I also mean every word. “True. Men may come and go in our lives, but at least we have each other.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m so glad you decided to stay here for me,” she says. “You’ve always known what I needed without me having to say a word. In fact, I don’t think Adam was your only soulmate. You’re mine too.”
“I think you’re right,” I agree with my eyes filling up with tears.
Roman
* * *
“Any updates?” I snap into the phone when I call the police chief for my daily check-in.
“No, Roman! I told you I would call if we get any credible Crime Stoppers tips.”
“How is it possible that no one has recognized any of those four assholes?” I ask in disbelief.
“Hell, I don’t know! Maybe they’re not from around here and this was just one of their hunting grounds.”
“Have you contacted the authorities in North Carolina to see if they’ve had any similar disappearances?”
“You talk to me like you don’t think I know how to do my job?” he grumbles.
“If you were doing your job, these four fuckers wouldn’t still be on the streets, would they?” I shout at him, which results in him ending the call without another word.
Slack asshole.
It’s been nearly a month, and still we’re not getting any closer to catching the bastards who hurt Tessa, which is frustrating as hell. Not just because other women in the area could be in danger, but because with each day that passes with no news, I feel like I’m letting Charlotte and Tessa down. It doesn’t help that time is running out for us. There’s an expiration date on the horizon that I’ve been avoiding. Stupidly, I think I’ve been hoping that if I can catch the men who victimized her best friend, maybe Charlotte would stay with me. It’s a ridiculous notion, but I’m running out of time, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince her to give us a real chance to be together.
From the outside, everything with Charlotte probably seems pretty great.
For the past two weeks, since the first night we were together, Charlotte and I greet the rising sun in the shower together, exploring each other’s bodies and working ourselves into a sweat under the scalding water. I then head off to the clubhouse or out to a rental if I have on-site work to do, while Charlotte spends time with Tessa. In the evenings, Charlotte either comes and finds me at the clubhouse to hang out with my crew and I until it’s time to go home, or I meet her at home where she demands sex before dinner.
It’s nearly perfect and so easy. I’ve been happier with her these last few weeks than I have ever been in my entire life.
Still, there’s this shadow hanging over us, a name she never speaks. I see her thinking about him constantly, every time I catch her twisting the wedding band still on her finger.
There’s one other odd thing I began to notice too.
If the mood strikes her, Charlotte pulls me aside and lets me have my way with her anywhere — in the clubhouse, out on our deck, in the kitchen, dining room, or on the couch. But never once has she initiated anything when we lay down together to go to sleep at night. If she even thinks I might try, she leaps up and laughingly leads me to some other part of the house, always eager to take me inside of her. Anything other than hot and dirty fucking remains taboo. So does my bed. Even though she sleeps there beside me each night, I’m beginning to feel like there’s one other person there between us that isn’t going away any time soon…
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte
* * *
“Today’s the day,” I say when I wake up in bed with Roman spooning behind me. Man, will I miss him – his warmth, his strength, his protectiveness, and yeah, I can’t forget how much I’ll miss the way he knows his way around my body so well he should own it. “I don’t want to move, but I need to get up and start packing before Tessa changes her mind.”
“I don’t want you to leave. Stay here with me,” Roman says while burying the tip of his nose in my hair, tickling my neck.
“Stay?” I repeat in surprise as his words sink in and make me smile. “I guess I could stay for ten more minutes.”
“No, Charlotte. I want you to stay here in Myrtle Beach with me. Live in my house, sleep in my bed.”
“For how long?” I ask. “A few more weeks or…”
“I was thinking somewhere between forever, and I dunno, maybe until the end of time?”
“Roman!” I exclaim as I quickly flip over to see his face. That wasn’t what I expected him to say. Is he joking? He must be joking.
“What?” he asks with his sexy smirk and unshaven jaw that usually makes it impossible to resist him. But this? Wanting me to move in? That’s just nuts.
“I can’t stay here. I have a house, a job, family and friends back home.”
“This could be your new home. You could get a job here. And I already have a house, so that’s one thing you can cross off the to-do list.”
“Being with you these last few days has been…amazing,” I tell him honestly as I comb my fingers through his soft auburn curls. “And I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through everything that happened to Tessa without you.”
“But,” he says with his strong jawline clenched tightly.
“But I can’t just up and move in with you after a month.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s insane!” I tell him.
“Please give me an actual reason, because I honestly can’t figure out what’s holding you back.”
“It’s…hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“Moving in is a huge step,” I start. “One that we can’t make lightly and one I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to take with someone else.”
“So this is about Adam?” Roman asks as he sits up. He actually sounds pissed that I’m not ready to be in a serious relationship after losing my husband!
“Yes, Roman, this is about how I loved a man once and married him. He was my best friend and soulmate. I thought we would be together forever, but fate had other plans.”
“You don’t think a person can have more than one soulmate in their lifetime?” he asks.
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s complete and utter bullshit, Charlotte! To be such an incredibly smart woman, how can you be so stupid about this?”
“Did you really just call me stupid?” I scoff.
“No. I said you’re acting stupid about this. Why are you so adamant about being alone for the rest of your fucking life?”
“I’ve told you before, it hurt too fucking much to go through that kind of loss again! And if you want me to be brutally honest, I can.”
“Oh, don’t hold back to try and spare my fucking feelings,” he huffs, jerking the covers off so he can get out of bed.
“Fine,” I snap, getting out of bed on my side so that there’s an entire mattress between us. “I’m afraid that no man will ever be able to measure up to Adam. It wouldn’t be
fair for me to constantly compare you to him. I’m already guilty of doing it.”
“How?” he asks, his green-eyed stare so heated it’s almost scary.
“I dunno. It’s just little things mostly, things he did for me that you don’t or things you do differently. I mean, you’re a lot of things Roman, but romantic isn’t really one of them!”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t want to be with me because you don’t think I can be romantic?”
“Not really, no.”
“Give me a fucking example,” he growls like a rabid animal.
“Example of what?” I ask.
“An example of how fucking romantic your husband was!”
“Okay,” I say as I swallow around the lump forming in my throat. “Adam didn’t use the word fuck in every other sentence when we had an argument.”
“Oh, and I bet you two never had any arguments either, did you?”
“Not really, no,” I admit. “We just got along. That’s how well we knew each other, and it’s not something I can explain. Adam and I dated for almost three years and were married for five years. That’s seven years of our lives we had to learn everything about each other.”
“He was in the Marines for several of those married years,” Roman points out.
“Yeah? So?”
“And you don’t think he ever did anything wrong while he was away from you?”
“No, I don’t,” I say confidently, to which I’m greeted with silence. “Why?” I ask. “Wait. You’re not trying to imply something here, are you?”
Roman rakes his fingers through his curls and says, “You still haven’t given me an example of what kind of romantic shit he did for you.”
“See! That right there, ‘romantic shit’ is what I’m talking about. The fact that you think it’s shit means it’s not something the president of the Savage Kings would ever do for a woman!”
“Try me,” he grits out.
“Fine! So, every Valentine’s Day, even though he’s gone, he still sends me a dozen red roses.”
“Wow,” Roman says with a grin and a shake of his head.
“What? It’s sweet and thoughtful. It means he cared enough to make future plans with a local florist to make me feel loved, as if he knew he wouldn’t get to come home alive.”
“What else?” he asks, propping his hands on top of his head, flexing his massive biceps and looking…smug.
“My week vacation here every year.”
“What about it?”
“Adam made the reservations for our anniversary week every year before he died. How many men do you know that would do that?”
Roman goes silent for a long damn time before he lowers his arms from his head and asks, “Is that it? Is that the best romantic shit you’ve got?”
“They’re pretty big ones. I can’t think of any old ones right off the top of my head…”
“Charlotte?”
“Yes?”
“Adam wasn’t psychic. He didn’t know he was going to die, so he sure as fuck didn’t buy you flowers or make vacation plans for you from fucking Afghanistan!”
“Yes, he did!”
“No, he didn’t,” Roman argues, which is really starting to piss me off. How can he act like a jealous jackass when I compare him to my dead husband?
“How do you know what Adam did or didn’t do for me?” I ask. “It sounds like you barely knew him! Whenever I ask you about him, you barely say a word!”
“Trust me, Charlotte. I knew him. He didn’t set up the vacation or the flowers.”
“Again, how would you know? How can you be so damn sure?” I yell at him. He simply blinks his beautiful, green eyes at me as if waiting…waiting for me to figure it out myself.
“No,” I suddenly gasp in understanding. “Roman, no! You?”
“Me,” he replies simply.
“But…why? Why would you do that?” I ask in confusion.
“Because after Adam died, I didn’t know what else I could do for you, and I needed to do something! But it’s been five years, Charlotte. It’s time for you to know the truth, and it’s time for you to move the fuck on!”
“Move on?” I repeat. “Like it’s as easy as just saying the words. Have you ever lost someone you love?”
“No. I told you I haven’t.”
“Then you don’t get to tell me to move on!”
“For fuck’s sake, Charlotte. Please don’t make me do this.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Tell you the secrets I promised Adam I would keep for him.”
“What secrets?” I demand. Instead of answering, he just goes over to the dresser and starts pulling out clothes and putting them on. “Tell me, Roman!” I say when I march up to him and jerk the t-shirt out of his hands. “What secrets of Adam’s have you been keeping that you think are so freaking bad?”
“He has a kid!” he shouts.
“What?” I whisper, having obviously misheard him.
“I didn’t want to tell you, baby. I didn’t. I thought you were better off not knowing the truth, thinking the man was some sort of saint. But he wasn’t. Adam had a kid with a woman while we were overseas. He’s four and a half now. I send them a few grand a month to help out with bills because she didn’t want to tell you and ask for any of Adam’s survivor benefits.”
“You’re lying,” I snap at him. “I can’t believe you would make up something so…so terrible!”
“Why would I lie, baby? Why?”
“Because you want me to hate him! You think that if I hate him, then I could love you, but you’re wrong! I will never love you as much as I loved him.”
I’m visibly shaking I’m so pissed when I toss down his t-shirt and go over to grab my clothes and start getting dressed.
“Charlotte, just wait a second, and try to hear me out,” Roman says from behind me.
“No. You’ve said plenty, and I don’t want to hear another word out of your lying mouth.”
“Then look,” he says, shoving his phone in front of my face so that I have no choice but to look at the photo on the screen. It’s a picture of a blond-haired toddler smiling big for the camera with a little round cake in front of him. “Tell me you don’t see the resemblance!”
“I-I don’t know,” I reply as I stare at the boy’s face. He has light hair, and his eyes go all squinty when he smiles in a way that is somewhat familiar.
“Let me take you to see him and Meredith. Talk to her and see if you still think I’m making this shit up.”
“Meredith?” I repeat the name. A name that sounds vaguely familiar. Why does it sound familiar?
“She was stationed at Camp Leatherhead with us. That’s where they met.”
“What…what are you saying?” I ask. “Are you saying that while my husband was stationed in another country, fighting a war, that he was…he was cheating on me?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
I shake my head because I just don’t believe it. “If Adam did that…it was a mistake. A one-time mistake when he was upset or drunk.”
“He loved her, Charlotte. It wasn’t a mistake. He was trying to figure out who he should be with — you, his wife, or the other woman he loved and his son.”
“That’s impossible!” I shout while bracing my palms on the dresser. “He would’ve told me. Adam was honest to a fault! He even told me when he hated my haircuts or the outfit I was wearing.”
“He didn’t want to hurt you,” Roman says. “I didn’t either, but you deserve to know so that you can move on.”
“You hurt me so that I could move on,” I mutter. “How could you? How can you stand there and say you care about me when you knew this all along and didn’t tell me, not until I was ready to leave today?”
“I am not the bad guy here,” Roman grits out. “You don’t get to put this shit on me just because Adam died and I’m still alive.”
“I-I need to go,” I say as I quickly finish dressing and shove
the rest of my things in my bag.
“Charlotte, no! You can’t leave like this. Please, just stay and let’s talk about it.”
“I can’t. Not right now,” I say, grabbing up my purse and throwing it on my shoulder, then scooping up my luggage before I practically flee from the house.
Roman
* * *
“I fucked up,” I tell Winston.
“What’s that now? I think I’m hearing things,” he says when he cups his palm to his ear. My best friend knows I am not a man who likes to admit when I’ve made a mistake, and he takes great joy in hearing about any that might arise.
“I fucked up!”
“Really?” he asks. “How?”
“Well, it’s been a goddamn month. I thought before Tessa went home, we would’ve found the assholes responsible and ended this all for her.”
“For her and for Charlotte, you mean?”
“Yeah, for both of them,” I agree. “And then this morning, I couldn’t take it any longer. I finally had enough of her thinking Adam walked on water, so I told her everything.”
“Told her…that her husband was screwing someone else and knocked them up while he was married to her?”
“Yep.”
“How did she take that?”
“Not well. Fuck, man, I knew she wouldn’t, so why the hell did I blurt it all out?”
“Because you’re in love with her and want her to love you back?” he offers.
“Yeah, I guess so. But now she’s pissed off at me, not him for cheating on her, but me for telling her he cheated! How screwed up is that?”
“You dropped a big bomb on her, prez. Give her a little time to let the smoke clear.”
“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” I ask him. “What if I fucked everything up to try and keep her and ended up losing her for good?”
“Roman, man, you’re the most stubborn bastard I know, and I mean that as a compliment,” he says when I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not going to give up that easy, are you?”
