“You’re doing the nose-scrunch.” So, so carefully, he cupped her cheek. “Don’t nose-scrunch me tonight. Not when things are going great.”
She kicked at a loose asphalt pebble with the toe of her ballet flat. “Can I be honest?”
“I like honesty.” He dropped his hand.
“I can’t do this. The us thing. I want to. I just…” She didn’t know what to say. This hurt now, which was all the more reason she had to end it before it became anything.
“If you want to, then why resist?” He reached for her hand, pressing it in his own.
Interlacing their fingers, she embraced the way they felt so good entangled together. Why couldn’t it always be like this?
New. Fresh.
This was a singular moment, though, a snapshot in time. It wouldn’t last. Not on a do-over.
“I’m sorry, Rome.” She dropped his hand, took the final steps toward her car, climbed inside, and refused to look back.
Chapter Sixteen
Sadie was dodging him.
He studied the bottom of his beer mug. All that remained inside were air and a few frothy bubbles. The atmosphere of the dive bar began to work its way under his skin.
The bar itself wasn’t bad. His buddy Brek had acquired it while Roman had been away. Any other time in his life, he would’ve appreciated the live music and flowing booze, but tonight, Sadie wasn’t with him and that made everything itchy.
If she remembered like he remembered, then there was no way she would be so willing to continue pretending nothing had happened and allow the extent of their relationship to be working down the hall from each other.
Where was the woman who had asked if she should wait for him? Where had she gone?
And why did it hurt so bad that he’d fucked it up with her?
“You look like you’ve been chewed up, spit out, and chewed on again,” Brek said, hanging out behind the bar and slinging drinks.
More apt words had never been spoken.
“Something like that,” Roman replied.
“You want something to eat?” Brek asked.
“Yeah, I’ll take the soup.”
Brek raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bar, man. We don’t serve soup.”
“Bourbon with ice croutons then?” Roman grinned at his own joke.
“That would be the special of the day.” Brek chuckled and slid a glass tumbler with ice beside Roman’s empty mug. He poured three large gulps of bourbon inside.
Roman had known Brek since they were younger. Brek was good people. The kind who listened decent and poured heavy. In other words, he made an exceptional bartender.
“How are things with the Babushka experiment?” Brek asked. “Everything you hoped?”
Given that his grandmother had totally backed off over the last twenty-four hours, there was no force—other than his desire to see Sadie—pulling them together.
Which was total crap.
He’d called. He’d gotten voicemail.
Then he decided that maybe she needed some space. So he gave her that.
