16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Shira
I waved goodbye to the couple who lived in the house next door as they made their way down my porch steps. Bev and Donnie had been in their place since the seventies. They were grandparents now and had told me all about their grandkids over the plate of cookies they’d brought over to welcome me to the neighborhood. They’d also offered their babysitting services when I’d told them about Beanie.
“Wow. Those two haven’t said more than a handful of words to me since I moved in,” Bea said dryly.
Clara bumped her with her shoulder. “Think that could have anything to do with your resting murder face?”
Bea put her hands on her hips like she was going to object, then she took a breath and nodded. “You know, you’re probably right. And as much as I like cookies, they’re not worth having to listen to the story of Billy’s first day of kindergarten in slo-mo.”
I crinkled my nose at her. “They were sweet.”
“Maybe. But even you can admit they talked sooo slow .”
Clara snorted. “They did take their time getting to the point, didn’t they?”
The three of us took seats around the mid-century modern table Bea and I had found at an antique store, which looked stunning in my new dining room. Clara’s boyfriend, Jake, and his brother, Jeremy, were putting together my bed upstairs. Nellie, Clara’s daughter, was up there with them assisting . From the sound of it, she was spending most of the time running circles in the two empty bedrooms. Everyone had forbidden me from even attempting to help, which was fine with me. I wasn’t handy in any way, and moving had taken it all out of me.
“I should buy a toolbox,” I mused.
My new home had been built in the late 1800s, and I loved every bit of the creaking wood floors and exposed brick walls. I’d never dared to conjure up what my dream house would look like, but now that I was here, I decided this was it. It wasn’t overly large, but that suited me. I didn’t need space or ostentatious fixtures and furniture. Cozy comfort was more my style I was learning.
“If you need help with anything, Jake will be glad to do it,” Clara offered. “He hasn’t met something he’s been unable to fix yet.”
Bea fluffed her blue waves. “As a woman who’s fully independent of the male race, I have a fully stocked toolbox and would be happy to lend you what you need. I learned how to use it all from a class I took at the hardware store.”
Clara laughed. “I’m happy to be dependent on Jake to figure out plumbing and electrical issues. I have plenty of talents and skills—none of which lie in that department.”
“I want to know how to do all those things.” I straightened my shoulders. “I was too complacent with Frank, letting him take care of me, and here I am, almost thirty and can barely change a light bulb or cook an edible dinner.”
Bea tipped her chin. “You deserved everything Frank gave you, and let’s be real, babe: you took care of that man more than he took care of you.”
I waved her off. “I don’t want to talk about him now. What’s done is done. This is a fresh start. I think I’ll look into taking the class you took.”
Bea looked like she had more to say—she always did—but she nodded and promised to send me the information for the class.
Jake and Jeremy finished soon after that. I tried to convince everyone to stay for dinner to thank them for all their help today, but Nellie had exhausted herself with all the running around, so she was a little cranky. Jeremy had to get home to his wife, and Bea had a waitressing shift. That left me alone in my new house.
I walked the creaky floors, envisioning the art I’d hang on the walls and what furniture I needed to buy to make it feel like it was truly mine. With Bea on one side of me and Bev and Donnie on the other, I already felt safe and comfortable here. I’d made this choice quickly, but my gut told me it had been the right one.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when my doorbell rang. Bea must’ve forgotten something. Or maybe Bev was coming back for her plate.
I checked the camera app on my phone, and it wasn’t Bea or Bev. Taking up more room than he had the right, Roman Wells was pacing back and forth in front of my door. His wide palm cupped the back of his neck, and though I couldn’t tell, I had a feeling his square jaw was rippling and tight the way it had been when I’d left him at Dr. Sharma’s office the day before.
With a slightly shaky hand, I pulled the door open. “Roman…hi.”
Even after all this time and what we’d shared, he still made me nervous. One day, I’d be comfortable with him, but I wasn’t close to there yet. If he were a little smaller, a smidge less handsome, I might’ve been able to behave like the grown woman I was and not a stuttering tween.
“Shira.” His gaze swept over me from the tips of my toes to my hair piled on the top of my head. He had developed a habit of doing this, and it always made me feel naked, even wearing loose pajama pants, a tank, and a cardigan. “The house next door is black.”
I stuck my head out to peer at Bea’s house. Someone had painted the brick black a long time ago, and Bea had rolled with it, installing a matching swing on the porch and a gothic-looking fountain in the tiny, fenced-in front yard. It was the perfect house for her.
“That’s where Bea lives.”
He huffed, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “It suits her.”
“It does,” I agreed. “A little scary on the outside and cute and sweet on the inside—just like her.”
He turned his attention back to me and cocked his head to look beyond me into my house. “Think I could come in?”
“Oh, sure.” I backed up to open the door and stumbled over my own feet. Luckily, I was holding onto the knob, so I didn’t go tumbling. “There’s not much to see yet. I just moved in today.”
“I don’t need to be entertained. I’d like to see the house.” His lips rolled over his teeth, then he pushed out, “The neighborhood isn’t as horrible as I’d pictured. I do have misgivings about the mission being four blocks away, though.”
“There’s a sweet park only a block away,” I retorted.
I didn’t look at unhoused people the same way a lot of people did. Once upon a time, my mother and I had lived in her car then a shelter. I understood being unhoused wasn’t a character deficit. Sure, some people living on the streets could be violent, but there were violent billionaires too. I refused to judge someone I didn’t know because of their housing situation. Besides, Bea knew this neighborhood well, and I trusted her judgment. If she felt safe here, so did I.
“Hmmm.” Roman stuffed his hands in his pockets, but not before I saw his fingers curling into his palms. “Have you met your neighbors on the other side?”
“I have. They’re a nice older couple. They brought me cookies.” I padded to the dining room where I’d left the plate and grabbed a cookie. Whirling around, I waved it at Roman. “Would you like one?”
One beat of hesitation, and he accepted it. The bite he took was as big as he was, demolishing half the cookie at once then putting away the other half seconds later. Something about watching him eat with such vigor made my stomach swoopy and warm. My toes dug into the thick rug under my feet.
“Good cookie.” Roman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No. I was considering ordering a pizza.”
“I could go for a pizza.” He took out his phone and started tapping. “Any toppings you don’t like?”
I frowned at him, not that he noticed since he was intent on his screen. I understood why he might have wanted to check out where his child would be living, but I couldn’t comprehend why we would be having dinner together.
“You’re having pizza with me?”
“Toppings, Shira. What do you like or dislike on your pizza?”
“Oh…um, I don’t eat pork. I like lots of vegetables.”
His brow furrowed. “Okay, we’ll get a veggie pizza. Done.” He looked up once his phone was back in his pocket. “Want to give me a tour while we wait?”
“There isn’t much to see yet, but…um, okay.” The first floor was pretty open. It took no time for me to point to the kitchen and living room, then we started for the stairs. A flash of black-and-white fur darted from nowhere, heading straight for Roman’s ankles. “Watch out, Mary’s coming,” I cried out in warning, but there was no need.
Without missing a beat, Roman bent, scooped up my cat, and cradled her against his chest. Mary mewed and squirmed but quickly got comfortable on her new perch. Her paws curled over his forearms as she blinked at me, her tail swishing lazily.
“It doesn’t look like she hates you so much,” I said.
Roman gave her head a scratch. “Her claws are digging into my arm. But sure, she doesn’t hate me.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
His mouth fell open, but his surprise quickly morphed into a grin. “Have you ever felt her claws? They’re razors.”
“I haven’t.” I folded my arms. “Mary would never hurt me.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s because she doesn’t hate you, Shira.”
With a laugh, I spun toward the stairs. I didn’t have to look back to know Roman was on my tail. His footsteps were like thunder on my old floors. They didn’t make men as big as him back in the nineteenth century.
Upstairs, I showed him the full bath, two empty bedrooms, and the primary bathroom. So far, all I had was a king-size bed and two nightstands—all new. I’d brought some things from the old house but wanted my bedroom here to be only mine.
“That’s a big bed,” Roman remarked.
I sat on the end of it, spreading my hand over the dusty-pink comforter. “It’s a bit ridiculous, but I have plans of starfishing right in the middle.” I patted my slightly rounded stomach. “And if this guy is anything like I was as a kid, I bet he’ll be creeping in here for snuggles most mornings and some middle of the nights.”
Roman’s jaw did that rippling thing again as he averted his gaze from me to sweep over the room. His arms must’ve been just as tight. Mary yowled at him before leaping onto the bed next to me, immediately getting to work on bathing herself.
“You’re okay, honey,” I cooed, stroking her back. “That was a big jump, my brave girl.”
Roman cleared his throat. “It’s a nice house, Shira. I’m still unsure about the neighborhood, but at least the house seems solid. Will you use the bedroom next door as the nursery?”
“That was my plan, but I’ll probably keep a bassinet next to my bed the first few months.”
He nodded. “That makes sense. Your plan for the third bedroom?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Logically, it should be a guest room, but I don’t have any family to stay there, so it might be an office or playroom. I haven’t decided.”
“A guest room would be smart. Then I can stay over once he’s here. Otherwise, I’ll crash on the couch downstairs.”
My couch wasn’t Roman size. He’d have to sleep curled up in a ball to fit himself.
“You think you’ll be staying here?” I asked in surprise.
“Of course.” He lowered his chin to stare down at me. “Do you have a problem with that?”
I thought about it, and I couldn’t come up with any objections, so I shook my head. “We just haven’t talked about how it will be.”
“We will. Just know I intend to take leave from work when he’s born, and I would like to be as hands-on as possible.”
My throat tightened, making it difficult to swallow, let alone speak. I hadn’t let my mind wander too far or imagine what it would be like to share a child with Roman. Up to this point, he had kept every promise he’d made, but it was the early days, and I’d been let down plenty of times before. Even now, I wouldn’t let myself believe he would follow through on his intentions. It was just too good to be true.
“I-I’ll buy a bed for the third bedroom,” I said softly.
“Thank you.” He turned his head toward the door. “But let me buy it.”
“You don’t need to do that. Money isn’t a problem for me—”
His gaze swung back to me. “I’m glad money’s not a problem, but I’d still like to buy the bed. Let me, all right?”
I nodded in agreement to avoid arguing. I’d simply order a bed tomorrow and tell Roman via text I had it covered. It was much easier for me to be assertive when he wasn’t looming over me and I didn’t have to see his carved-from-granite frown.
The pizza came soon after that. The two of us settled in my dining room, and Roman served me two slices before taking two for himself. He also made me sit down while he got us glasses of ice water.
“First dinner at my new house.”
“Congrats. Shira.” Roman raised his glass and tipped it toward mine. I picked mine up and clinked it against his.
“Cheers.”
“Cheers to new beginnings.” He put his glass down carefully and peered at me, a thoughtful furrow to his brow. “Hopefully we can start anew too. Today, I realized I never really apologized to you for how I treated you when we were working together.”
“It’s all right. It was just business.” I shouldn’t have been excusing his behavior. It hadn’t been all right in the least. But I had this knee-jerk reflex to smooth over conflict, even to my detriment. Often to my detriment. Years of therapy hadn’t cured me of it. I didn’t know what would—if anything.
“No, it isn’t.” He leaned forward, watching me carefully. “This afternoon, I passed Mike Dietrich on my way to my office. I had some quick budgetary things to discuss with him, so naturally, I stopped him.”
I ripped the crust off my pizza to keep from cringing. Mike did not like making chitchat in the halls.
Roman went on. “When I returned to my desk a few minutes later, Mike sent me a message. Do you know what it said?” I shook my head, though I had an idea. “He said, and I quote, ‘I would like to go back to the way Shira handled things. From now on, please confine your questions to scheduled meetings or chats through the messaging app.’ I saw you hide from him and decided it was because you didn’t want to talk to him, but you did it for him, didn’t you?”
I nodded, still tearing at my crust. “Mike is a genius at numbers, but he’s not a people person.”
“You couldn’t have told me that?” he asked as gently as he was capable—which wasn’t very gentle and lined with gruffness, but the effort set me at ease.
“No, Roman. After you lectured me on ignoring everyone in the office and having no connection to the employees, I didn’t feel like I could tell you anything.”
His nod was heavy and slow. “I did say that. Then I asked you if Frank had ever meant anything to you. What a bastard I was.” He hung his head in his hands and groaned. “I screwed this all up. I’m sorry, Shira. I really am.”
“Okay.”
My pizza was in a pile, nothing left to shred, but with my stomach a mess of nerves, it wasn’t like I’d be eating it anyway.
He looked up, and I was shocked to see how ruddy his cheeks were. “Since I understand what it means to be born into wealth and privilege, I have tried my best not to be an asshole. But I really failed here, huh?”
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth, only nodding slightly in response.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Those letters Frank had sent me meant a lot. I’d convinced myself I was doing right by him, but holy hell was I blind.”
My stomach bottomed out. The damn letters. It always came back to them. Letting this go on for another second longer didn’t feel right. Roman was being honest and laying it all on the line, so it was time I did too.
“Roman, since we’re starting fresh—”
He pinned his gaze on me as he leaned in halfway over the table. I had to look down at the napkin in my lap in order to free my confession from the confines of the vault in the back of my throat.
“—Frank didn’t write those letters. I did.”