She murmurs something, snapping him back to the present conundrum: a very real, very titillating Jahlani on his kitchen island.
Slamming the cabinet shut, he pours her drink.
“Lucy’s asleep?” she asks as he hands her the drink.
He hums in response, taking a sip from his own.
“Bummer,” she says, pouting, and he wants to scream at her not to do that, but instead settles on reaching for a doughnut from the bag.
He extends one to her, and she takes it—the heat of her fingertips traveling his entire system. As she draws her fingers into her mouth, one by one, he’s unable to look away.
He clears his throat. “What happened to your plans with your mom?”
Her eyes catch his. “Oh, so you don’t want me here. It’s fine. I’ll take my doughnuts.” She starts to slide from the counter, but his hand presses her hip back down and he stands in front of her to block her.
He rolls his eyes, taking another doughnut from the bag.
She sighs as she brushes her hands together before drinking from her wine glass. “Dick happened.”
He arches a brow, and she sends him a pointed look. He raises his hands as if to sayyou said it, not me.
“That’s his name. Richard, buthis friends call him Dick,” she says in a mocking tone.“My mom and I don’t really get along.” She sets her glass down. He shifts closer, reaching for another doughnut, and his arm brushes against her thigh, sending sparks through his chest.
“She developed this really bad habit when I was a kid, after my dad left, of just bringing home all these random guys. She would just shower them in affection and give them all thisattention, and I was just kind of there. Forgotten. Like tonight,” she says, laughing bitterly. “Tonight, she tried to make me serve him dinner like this is the 1950s and I’m his little housewife or something.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, his fingers drawing small circles against her leg.
She shrugs, tracing the rim of her glass. “I got used to it. I just worked harder in school, got as many scholarships as possible and left. I figured she wouldn’t care if I did anyway.”
“What about your dad? You never talk about him.”
“My dad,” she says slowly. “My dad has a new family with Helen. Helen is nice. They’re having a baby. A girl. He’s starting over. The perfect wife, the perfect daughter.” She exhales, shaking her head, laughing silently. “Is it fucked up that I’m jealous of my unborn sister?”
She wipes at a lone tear, and his chest pinches. He wants to reach out and wrap her in his arms, but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to watch her, his eyes tracking her every movement.
“Ever since I moved back here, I’ve felt this weight on my chest. I’m doing everything wrong and saying everything wrong, and what happened with you just further solidified that my life is this bumbling mess.”
Her shoulders are tense, and she doesn’t meet his eyes as she slips off the counter and walks to the couch. She continues talking, and she sinks against the cushions.
He follows her, dropping into the space next to her, their bodies lined up together. She pulls a loose thread from one of the pillows as she continues speaking, her tone soft and murmured.
“Like, I’m twenty-six and I’m fucking drowning—drowningin debt because my dad is a useless piece of shit, and my mom won’t even look at me, or hold a conversation with me and I shouldn’t be herebecause this was not in my plan, like at all, but my stupid ex decided to cheat on me and then my internshipcombusted, and it’s just been one thing after another,” she says, her glassy eyes meeting his.
Roman wants to find the right words to comfort her, to let her know that he’s got her, and that he’s here.
But most days he feels the exact same way.
And that scares him.
Because he has a little girl to take care of.
He has to be okay, no matter what.
“And then there’s you,” she says, scoffing, a tear spilling past. “You’re always there. You’re everywhere, and it’s so irritating because in the grand scheme of things, my problems are so insignificant compared to yours, and that just makes me feel even shittier, and the cycle repeats. It’s never fucking ending and I hate this,” she says, her head dropping into her hands. Reaching forward, he tugs on her elbow, and she trembles against his chest.
“Jahlani, you’re not a mess. You’re just a person that got dealt some pretty shitty cards.”
She pulls back, wiping under her eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m being dramatic,” she says, blowing out air between her lips.
