“This is my mother, Wendy Powell. Mom, this is Roman Reynolds.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Wendy said and offered her hand.
“You as well, Mrs. Powell.”
“Call me Wendy.” She motioned to Ezra’s jersey laid out on the bed and raised one eyebrow archly. “Ezra was just showing me his uniform.”
Roman swallowed tightly, knowing he’d been caught. “My friend Jay got one for Ezra with his number on it, and I couldn’t let it go, so…” He blinked, eyes landing on Ezra. “You look really cute in it, which is why I asked you to wear it, but you can obviously wear whatever you want.” That was truthful, at least.
“I like wearing it,” Ezra said simply.
“And you two have been spending a lot of time in the hot tub,” she persisted.
“Mom.” Ezra groaned and grabbed ahold of her forearm. “We’re going to your room now. I’ll show you where you can put your things.”
“Would you two like to join me for dinner tonight at Prime Cut?” Roman asked. “Ezra told me you appreciated a good steak.”
“I haven’t been wined and dined in quite some time,” Wendy said with good humor. “I’d love to.”
“Will they have my menu?” Ezra asked, looking a little less enthused.
“Of course they will. Just like last time.”
Ezra turned to his mother. “You’re not going togrillhim, are you?”
Wendy smiled. “That’s how you get to know people, Ezra, by asking questions.”
Ezra rolled his eyes and huffed. “You two are just alike.”
* * *
It had beena long time since Roman had felt the need to perform well in an interview, but dinner with Wendy Powell was one of those occasions. He took her through his childhood in Kalamazoo, Michigan, his football career at Michigan State, followed by his draft by the Saints. He told her about his five-year athletic career, followed by his early retirement due to a bad rotator cuff, at which point Ezra said, “I told you he has a bad shoulder.” Had his football injuries come into question?
He was just getting into his transition to restaurateur when Ezra excused himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he’d left the table, Wendy leaned toward him and said, point-blank, “Roman, what are your intentions for my son?”
Honest and direct, just like Ezra. Roman appreciated her forthrightness, but it didn’t make answering her question any easier. Roman cleared his throat and met the woman’s discerning gaze. It didn’t seem right to make any confessions to Wendy before making them to Ezra himself, and his feelings toward Ezra made him feel raw and vulnerable. “I have a deep affection for your son.”
“That much is obvious.”
“I want to take care of him,” Roman continued, in case she thought this was some sort of fleeting infatuation.
“In what way?”
“In whatever way he’ll allow.”
“He’s not after your money,” she said, perhaps misinterpreting Roman’s intent. Roman knew that Ezra wasn’t looking forthatsort of arrangement.
“Yes, I know.”
“You’ll need to be patient with him,” she warned.
“We’re on Ezra’s timeline.”
“There will be challenges.”
“All relationships have challenges. Your son is sincere and straightforward, and he knows what he wants. We communicate well with each other, and when difficulties arise, we talk it out until we come up with solution.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him, looking for any signs of bad faith. “He’s been hurt in the past.”
