Page 10

Roman

I roll over in bed, my body still exhausted as I stretch out my limbs.

In no hurry to move, I tug the blankets up, not wanting to get up.

But then suddenly, memories of last night hit me in a rush, and my eyes snap open.

I turn quickly toward the other side of the bed, only to find it empty.

My hand darts across the vacant sheets, and my chest tightens when I discover they’re cold.

Shit.

Blinking into the still-dark room, I push the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The shades are drawn, and I work to focus my eyes as I jump to my feet, a strange desperation about me.

“Ah fuck.” Pain spikes through my baby toe. Right. That’s when I remember stubbing it last night. Just before the hiccups. Hiccups that led me to Gabby’s bed.

Gabby.

My heart stammers. If she has regrets this morning, I’ll never forgive myself. My stomach clenches hard. Did she slip out under the cover of darkness? Did the last words we spoke before falling asleep scare her back into her fiancé’s arms?

Maybe that’s for the best, Roman.

Even as the thought races around my mind, I know it’s complete bullshit. She deserves more. Better. A man who will worship her, who will cherish her, who will show her every single day just how important she is. Not some cheating bastard who screws around the night before their wedding.

Bastard.

I yank on my boxers, scrubbing a hand over my face as I search for my phone. My heart sinks. Damn it. I don’t have Gabby’s number. I can’t check in. Can’t see if she’s okay.

Can’t see if she needs me.

Then I hear it. A soft noise from the other room.

A quiet rustle. Relief floods me so fast my knees nearly buckle.

She’s still here. Jesus, the fact that I’m so goddamn happy about that should scare the hell out of me—but it doesn’t—and I don’t know why.

The only thing I do know is that I wasn’t fucking kidding when I asked her to come home with me.

Her answer had been a soft, satisfied moan before her eyes fluttered closed, sleep dragging her under.

The chaos of the night—alcohol, sex, the emotional turmoil—had all taken its toll.

But now all I can think about is those words I whispered to her afterward.

Did she hear them? If she did, did she believe me?

Three long strides carry me into the living room, and I freeze.

Gabby is bent over the coffee table, wearing nothing but my T-shirt.

The hem skims high on her thighs, exposing too much smooth skin, and my heart punches hard against my ribs as my dick thickens, twitching at the memory of her mouth on me last night, of how she took me so deep I forgot how to breathe.

We didn’t fuck. But what we did do…God, it felt far more intimate than anything I’ve ever known. Dammit, I want her again.

I’m about to cross the room, to pull her against me, but stop when I notice what’s in front of her.

Her wedding dress.

Spread out across the coffee table, and she’s smoothing her fingers over the fabric, like she’s…preparing it.

For what?

My chest tightens.

Fuck.

“Gabs,”I say quietly, trying to steady myself. Is she really choosing to go back to that asshole? I mean, it’s her choice, right? I don’t have a say.

Yeah, fuck that.

She turns quickly, and the smile that breaks across her face loosens the tight knot in my chest.“Morning,”she says, her voice soft and sleepy. My gaze drops, to the scissors in her hand.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Instead of answering—why isn’t she answering—she drops the scissors, and walks to the coffee pot to pour me a mug.“You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks.” I run fingers through my hair, still groggy as she comes back to me and presses the mug into my hand.

Our fingers brush and a jolt of heat rips through me.

If she’s feeling that too, she can’t go back to that asshole, right?

Then again, my parents hate each other, but stay together for political reasons. Jesus, I hate fakery.

Everyone has their reasons for doing what they do, Roman.

Which means, it’s her life, not mine, and I don’t have a right to interfere.

My eyes drift back to the wedding dress, and my stomach tightens. “What are you doing to your dress?”My voice sounds too casual—like we didn’t just share something explosive, something I can’t quite wrap my head around. But I push that down.

Here’s the thing. Gabby deserves to walk down the aisle, to have a family of her own, and even if I did convince her to come home with me, I can’t give her the happily ever after she deserves. But that sure as hell doesn’t mean I want her with that cheating prick.

She waves a hand toward the dress. “Fixing it.”

“For…” I trail off, needing to hear her say it. Why the fuck do I need to hear her say it? Am I a goddamn masochist?

Her phone buzzes, and her shoulders stiffen as she stares at the lit screen.“He’s sent hundreds of messages,”she says, shaking her head. “He’s been threatening to ruin me if I don’t walk down that aisle. My career… it’ll be over if I don’t.”

My jaw clenches. Is she telling me that, so I’ll understand?

In a much lower voice, she adds, “They have all the connections. I’ve worked so hard, proven myself.”She snaps her fingers, and the sharp sound sends spikes of pain into my skull. “ But with a couple of phone calls, they can crush me like a bug.”

I drop onto the sofa, my head throbbing. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to say here, so I go with,“Are you going to answer?”

She exhales slowly, her gaze flicking to me before settling back on her phone . “I suppose I should.”

For a moment, silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. But instead of answering, she picks up the scissors again. “Gabs. What are you doing?”

Her voice is soft, almost wistful, filled with a longing that hurts my heart when she answers with, “Someday I’d like to design wedding gowns.

I thought I’d start with this one. It’s gorgeous fabric, and I want to make it right.

.. I want to make it my own.” Her brow furrows as she looks at me, like she’s begging for me to understand.

But fuck, I’m nothing to her but an old friend and she doesn’t have to justify her actions.

Not to me. Not to anyone. Except, maybe… herself.

“You’re going back,” I say flatly, a statement, not a question.

She nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.“Yes.”

My heart lurches painfully. I work hard to swallow it down, to keep my face impassive, but damn it, I want to grab her, pull her close, kiss some sense back into her. But this is her life, her choice, and last night was just a fleeting connection, her need for something real before…fake.

I lower my gaze to my coffee cup, gripping it hard enough to crack the ceramic. “Okay.”

“Roman.” Her voice catches as she says my name.

I lift my gaze, and the hurt in her voice is a physical punch.“Do you not want me to?” she asks, her voice barely audible.

“Gabs…” What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?

“Last night, then. Your offer? That was just the heat of the moment? It’s not real.”

Wait, what?

I scrub my hand over my face, trying to make sense of the storm in my brain.“You’re not going back to him.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face.“Of course not. Is that what you thought I meant?”

“My brain isn’t working so great today.”

A little laugh bubbles out of her throat. “I’m not sure mine is, either. You looked horrified for a second.”

“Yeah,” I begin, scrambling to backtrack. I can’t let her see how much last night meant to me. I don’t want to scare her off. “After what he did, I want to punch him. But you know, your career…I just…I thought. I was worried. Regrets.”

“I’m not going back with him. I’m going back—to Boston—with you,” she says, her voice full of conviction. “But I should answer him. I do owe him that.”

“You don’t owe him anything.”

She drops to her knees in front of me, and heart slams so hard in my chest I’m sure she can hear it.

Honestly, it guts me to think that with just a couple of phone calls, he can easily ruin her.

I wish there was something I could do for her, because I know firsthand how hard it is to chase a dream—the relentless grind, the sacrifices, the blood, sweat and tears it takes to make it happen.

I set my coffee down, pulling her hands into mine.

“ For the record, last night was not in the heat of the moment. Come back with me, Gabs. Stay with me.” She stares at me and just to clarify what I’m offering, not that I for one minute think she might have the wrong idea, I add, “Stay for as long as you need. Take all the time you need to figure out what’s next. ”

“Okay.”

I arch a brow. “Yeah?”I can barely get the word out, but I need to hear her say it.

“Yeah.”

“Babe.”I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeply. She melts into me, her soft sigh vibrating through my chest.

When we finally break apart, she whispers. “Just until I can figure out my next move.” I nod and a warm, sated look moves over her face when she adds, “For the record, I have no regrets.”

“Same.” I brush my thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip, and that’s when her phone rings, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

At first she tenses, but then her shoulders relax when she glances at the screen . “It’s my mom.”

“You better get that. I’m sure they’re worried.”

She bites her bottom lip. “They’re expecting me to go back to California with them.”

My chest tightens. “Will they be upset?”

Her eyes soften, the love she feels for her parents evident, as she cocks her head to think about that.“I actually don’t think so. They only want what’s best for me, and right now, going with you is probably it.”

“Okay. Take that call. I need to get more coffee into me. Clearly.”