I head onto the balcony and use my lungs as a vessel to burn away my sorrows.
Chapter Thirty-One
ROMAN
Morning comes all too quickly, and I feel like shit. When I see my reflection in the mirror, it’s clear that I look no better than I feel. Thank fuck for hair and makeup teams. They’ll certainly have their work cut out for them today.
After a quick shower, I bump into Jill in the kitchen. She’s whipping up something that smells divine.
“I’ve got some French toa—whoa.” She looks me over. Nice to know I look as bad as I feel. Moving the pan off the burner, she comes up to inspect closer, which prompts an eye roll from me.
“Knock it off,” I say.
“Jesus, Roman, you smell like an ashtray.” There’s disapproval in her voice, but concern in her eyes.
It’s that look that sends me toward the front door without stopping for any breakfast. That look makes me feel like absolute shit. The last thing I want to do is worry my sister, she’s got enough on her plate. She deals with her own demons, I don’t need her to shoulder any worry over mine.
“You get your butt back here,” she shouts after me, “ifyou’re not going to talk, you’re at least going to eat one of these.”
“Have you forgotten I’m in a spandex suit all day?”
“Oh, suck it up. Or suck it in? Either way, you’ll be more than fine. Here.”
I look down at my phone and see that I’d be ridiculously early if I left now, so I relent.
Blissfully, Jill doesn’t push the subject as we eat in companionable silence. That’s one of my favorite things about her, she knows that sometimes being present is enough to lighten my mood. That is until my phone pings.
“You don’t have to open it right now if you don’t want to,” Jill offers. “Maybe it’d be better to start your day without looking?”
“And have it hanging over my head? No, I’d rather know what it is.” I skim the email from Janine and let out an exhausted laugh.
“What is it?” Jill asks, big blue eyes full of concern.
“Clover and I are going to be going on a little trip.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
CLOVER
It’s regrettable that I need to give myself a pep talk before seeing Roman in his costume today, and yet, here we are.
You will not stare excessively at his chest.
You will not think about how insane his biceps are.
You will remember that he’s an ass.
Of course, that conjures up thoughts of Roman’s ass in the costume, and I’m devastated to confirm it looks fantastic. Fuck sakes.
When I make it onto set, Roman and our castmates are chatting over coffees with Arnold and the crew.
I walk over to the craft services table to grab myself a cream and sugar-less coffee, and hear footsteps behind me. It’s strange how my body can sense that it’s him before I can visually confirm. There’s something about his presence… or maybe it’s the sound of his footsteps.Since when do I know what those sound like?
“Morning,” comes his smooth voice from behind me, sending a small shiver down my spine.
Stop it, I mentally shout at my body.
Turning around, I bring the hot coffee up to my mouth and give a gentle blow across the surface before taking a sip.
