Too good to be true.
The Voice of Doom is no longer whispering that horriblephrase into my ear. This week, the voice has been screaming it. Constantly. Does Roman blamemefor that horrible loss in Baltimore? Is he second-guessing his decision to invite me to live with him? I’m well aware he’s never had a girlfriend during football season before, and he’s one hell of a superstitious motherfucker when it comes to football stuff. So, could it be Roman’s decided I’ve somehow brought him bad luck or caused him to lose necessary focus?
As my thoughts spiral into another full-blown panic, Roman unexpectedly waltzes through our front door in a Thunderbolts T-shirt and gray sweats, looking freshly showered and perturbed.
“Hey,” I murmur, sitting up on the couch. “You’re home early.”
My heart is thundering.
This is it.
I’m going to talk to Roman today and tell him everything I’ve been thinking about on a running loop. It might piss him off and push him away even more, but I simply can’t live like this. If we’re not going to make it, then I’d rather find that out now than let this drag on for the rest of the season.
“Yeah, Coach made me leave early for some ‘rest and relaxation,’” Roman murmurs with a scoff. “He’s forcing me to take the rest of the day off, whether I like it or not.”
I clear my throat and pat the couch next to me. “Can we talk for a minute?”
Roman’s features soften. “Of course.” He strides over and sits down. But before I say a word, he leans in and kisses me deeply. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve been a total dick.”
My heart rate quickens. I croak out, “You blame me for the loss.”
Roman pulls a face like that’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Of course not.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Then why have you been acting so pissed at me?”
“What? Iris, no.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t want to be a cranky dick around you, so I kept my distance while I worked some things out.”
“If you think I prefer you icing me out and acting like you want to break up with me to you being a cranky dick, then you’re sorely mistaken.”
His face drains of color. “I ... I’m sorry. There’s not an ounce of me that’s thinking about breaking up with you, Iris. I didn’t realize that’s the impression I was giving.”
Tears flow down my cheeks. “You’ve barely looked at me, let alone talked to me. We haven’t had sex. You never ask me about my day or how I’m doing. Of course I’m thinking you might be second-guessing your decision to invite me here. What else could I possibly think?”
Roman looks utterly devastated. “I thought you understood ... I’ll never, ever second-guess you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Didn’t the horse ranch tell you how I feel about you?”
“I mean, yes. It did. At the time. But people change their minds. Sometimes, they do something over the top without thinking it through and then regret it later on.” I can’t stop my chin from trembling.
“Baby.” Roman wraps me in a hug. “My love, I promise, what I’ve been going through has nothing to do with you. It’s all in my own head.”
“It does have to do with me, though, because I love you, through thick and thin. Because we’re teammates, whether you win or lose.” I lean back from our hug and look into his dark eyes. “I loved you before I knew you played football, remember? And you loved me, even when I was at rock bottom. All I want to do is love and support you through tough times, the way youdid for me, but you won’t let me.” I wipe my tears. “If I’m being honest, I’m tired of this relationship always being a one-way street. I want to be there for you in return.”
“A one-way street?” Roman says, like the words are unfathomable. He takes my hand. “Iris, you give me far more than I could ever give you, just by being here and being you.”
I scoff. “Except when you lose a football game?”
His jaw tightens “I didn’t simply lose. And it wasn’tafootball game. It was far more than that.”
I exhale. “I understand that’s the narrative you’ve been telling yourself. But there’s a schedule of games, right? And it’s an objective fact that was merelyonegame on that schedule. Correct?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? It can be, if you let it be.”
He pats my thigh. “I love you, sweetheart, but you simply don’t understand.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I don’t pretend to understand football the way you do. But here’s what Idounderstand: I can’t continue like this. I’m fully prepared to let you have space to work through your emotions and prepare for the next game on the schedule. But giving you space and being ignored and shut out are two very different things.”
“And rightly so,” he mumbles. He hangs his head and sighs. “I don’t know how to do this, Iris. It’s all new to me—juggling a relationship and my responsibilities during the season.”
