“Oh, she isn’t here, dear,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “She’s taken a few days to herself. She didn’t tell you she was leaving town?”
A spark of irritation runs through me, but I keep my expression steady. “No, she didn’t mention that. Is she okay?”
Her mother offers me a sad smile. “She’s getting there. She’s been through a lot, you know.”
“Yes. I’ve been trying to get her to open up to me. She’s not the easiest vault to crack, but I just want to be there to support her.”
Her mother’s gaze softens. I’ve never tried to suck up to someone’s mother, but flattery and charm have always worked in my favor when dealing with women. Except for Romi, who absolutely despises it.
I wanted to play with Romi a little more over the next few weeks, since we live apart, but after a day without being able to reach her in any way, I'm already going crazy. The thought of her not even being in town, close to me… Nope. Over my dead body.
I’ll do everything in my power, including charming her mother, to get her to tell me exactly where my littleCattivellahas run off to.
“We all do, dear. You know, I quite like you, Dante.” Ironic, considering that if she knew the true me, I very much doubt she would. “I can tell you want to look out for my daughter, and right now, maybe you’re the only person she really trusts. Even if she’sblinded by the fact herself. She only started opening up, even if just a little, since you moved in.”
I often wonder about what Romi’s life was like before I entered it, almost irritated by the fact that there was a version of her who lived a life without me bothering her.
When I think about our involvement and reflect on my own day-to-day before her, it’s a blur. It’s a startling realization because the me before her felt so… mechanical.
I’ve always enjoyed antagonizing others, but it’s different with Romi. I’m certain I’ll never grow bored of it—ofher.
Oh, fuck.
Just like that, I realize how much I’ve fallen for a woman who can barely tolerate me. Me, an instigating asshole who has only lived for himself, falling for a woman?
I withhold the smile, amused that maybe I am just as foolish as my brother. But I’m certainly not revoking my claim.
“Let me write down an address for you,” her mother says, holding up a finger for me to wait, and my eyebrows rise. I'm surprised how easily she trusts me. I always get what I want, but I shift in the doorway, uncomfortable at the idea that someone might think of me as "good."
I played the role of "good doctor" for so many years, and I hated it. Even though others referred to me as cold and clinical, people simply trusted me because of my profession. Whereas this feels different. I’ve never had someone’s mother offer a full-hearted trust to do well by their daughter, and I’m the last person anyone should have such faith in.
She returns and offers me a slip of paper. I open it, immediately understanding. The countryside, where she's from. Of course. Her mother takes Borris from my arms.
“I hope you can help her. She used to have so much fire in her before Lorraine’s death.”
I offer a small smile as I say, “Trust me, your daughter still has plenty of fire left in her. Thank you for this, Mrs. Granger.”
A light blush streaks her cheeks as she waves me away. I quickly stride across the white cobblestone path back to my bike. Apparently, my woman thinks she’s allowed to go on a little vacation without me. And that is absolutely unacceptable.
24
ROMI
Ismile. That’s all I need to do for this guy and his friends to actually think they’re funny. They’re not, but I have to give a little to a man's ego, especially when I’m going to most likely use him in the bathroom within the next hour.
I went out of my way to leave Manhattan for a few nights to figure shit out. After the first night of decompressing on my own, I slipped back into old habits. I’m not a saint, and quitting anything cold turkey isn’t recommended, right?
So I stayed at a random hotel, contrary to my mother’s suggestion of an estate she and Barry speak fondly about. Not that they’ve been out this way since my father passed; there’s no longer a reason for them to be here.
It’s ironic, really, that the estate they like is close to the country club, which she most likely was hoping I’d visit like a good girl, instead of being prone to visit the closest dive bar, which is precisely what I’m doing now. It’s still full of wealthy assholes who come here on weekends, but it’s much more fun than talking to the women at the country club about their husbands and listening to gossip about who is cheating on who and with whom.
It’s the longest I’ve been away from Borris since Lorraine passed, and I miss the little guy's consistent love and attention. Though I know my mother is probably spoiling him rotten.
I can’t stand the men I’m playing pool with, but since one of them—his name is Drew—is the nephew of the bar owner, we were allowed to remain inside even after the bar closed. Considering the late hour I arrived and that I wanted a stiff drink, if all I had to do was entertain them for a few hours, then so be it. It’s only his group of friends left and me, but at least the alcohol keeps coming.
“Are you sure you know how to play, sweet cheeks?” one of Drew’s friends calls out.
It’s always the same when I go to sports bars like these. They’re staring at the screen during the game, then at my tits and ass during the ads. When we play pool, they expect me to ask for help.
