‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, get worrying me, because it’s that or rage. Who did this to you?’
The scrape is surrounded by an already blooming bruise, and I notice a handful more on his arms. ‘I slipped on the stairs.’
For a professional liar, he’s not very convincing.
‘Did you fall completely unaided?’
The hesitation has me coming into the roomproperly, closing and locking the door behind me. Roman turns, leaning back against the sink.
‘Eddie?’ I ask.
Roman drops the lightly bloodied paper in the toilet and sighs. ‘Eddie.’
‘Fuck. He shoved you?’
‘Yes.’
‘On purpose?’
‘I’m not sure he’s known for being a clutz.’
A fierce anger swells in my chest. I brought Roman here, and I’ve promised to bring him home in one piece, and Eddie-Fucking-Stewart isn’t going to get in my way. Promises mean something to me. ‘I’m going tokillhim.’
‘I have no desire to be the one who finally shoves you over that personal moral threshold. It’s only one more day. We can leave tomorrow and forget about all of this.’
Only my lifelong attempts at being unreadable stop the wince showing on my face. Roman wants to forget all about this? Or me? Had I started believing the yarn I spun myself? No. There is something there. Beyond the fallacy, there’s attraction. Undeniable.
I grab a towel and move to him, gently pressing it to the scraped flesh on his stomach. The heat of his breath whispers over my cheek as I focus on dabbing the graze.‘Had he tried anything else? Other than the night on the patio?’
Roman’s hand softly touches mine, stilling the towel against his stomach. ‘There was a shard of glass in one of my drinks.’
My stomach flips. ‘I’m sorry. I truly didn’t think hewould try anything. Not with my family here. We need to tell my dad.’
‘Maggie—’
‘He’s going to kill you, Roman.’
‘And yet,’ he says gently, ‘He’s tried three times, and I’m still here. We only need to get through tonight. What will your dad do? Kick him out of the wedding?’
Frustration has me scowling. ‘Maybe. But I’d guess no. Family optics matter more than my boyfriend.’
‘Mm.’
‘Our families are close. My dad won’t want to offend them,’ I say, bitterness creeping in.
Roman’s mouth tightens. ‘Your dad can’t possibly think Eddie is good for you.’
I shrug. ‘What does it matter?’
‘It should matter. We aren’t living in medieval times.’
‘We might as well be. At least then I wouldn’t be expected to take on the family business. Just pop out a string of kids and perish.’
‘That doesn’t sound better,’ Roman says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
‘You deserve to be happy.’
