Chapter 25
Roman watched Ava go and wrestled down the urge to run after her. He’d been an absolute ass. She’d been right to call him
out on steamrolling her. And what was worse, he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.
Yes, part of him had been hurrying through the tasks at hand so they could get to their evening activity—which it looked like
he’d be canceling. But more than that, he’d been trying to help in the way he knew best.
She’d accused him of making snap decisions and excluding her, but this was what he did for the people he cared about—he anticipated
their needs and saved them the trouble of sorting out the logistics. It was a philosophy rooted in service, and it was what
made his hotels a success.
Through the lens of hindsight, Roman could also see he’d put on his CEO hat once Belinda had gotten involved. But what was
appropriate in a boardroom full of men who still saw him as some upstart Latino kid from Brooklyn wasn’t the right strategy
when you were helping plan a wedding with the woman you were trying to court.
Especially when you knew that woman needed time to think things through.
A sinking feeling came over him as he thought back to that day months ago when Mikayla had stormed out, right before Camille had given him the toy dog. In his mind, the best way he could show the women in his life that he cared was to do things for them, but they weren’t guests at one of his hotel properties, and maybe what they wanted from him wasn’t top notch concierge service.
So what the hell did they want?
A text from his local travel agent came through on his watch, and he set about canceling the cruise and making arrangements
to have their meal delivered to the house instead.
Instead of leaving right away, he strode out of the ballroom and went in search of the resort manager on duty. Since he was
here, he’d meet with the staff, mostly to hear about the renovations and improvements they’d made over the past year, but
also to listen to their suggestions and let them know they weren’t just cogs in a machine. He wasn’t supposed to be working,
but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for face-to-face time with the staff before the wedding. Besides, it would keep him
from running after Ava.
Two hours later, Roman was back at his house. Ava’s door was closed, but he hesitated before knocking. She’d asked for space,
so he’d respect that. The dinner he’d planned for them to eat on the boat would be arriving soon, so he grabbed his laptop
and went to sit on the patio. Hopefully more work would help him take his mind off their argument until he could apologize
properly.
He pulled up some reports to review, but found himself struggling to concentrate. Normally, slipping on his reading glasses
gave him a mental cue that it was time to focus. But all he could think about was Ava.
Knowing that he’d reminded her of her ex and made her feel like she didn’t matter tore him up inside. He needed to do better, to treat Ava with the respect she deserved, which meant making time for her way of thinking, even if it was different than his own.
It meant apologizing .
But how? Saying he was sorry wasn’t enough. And all the ways he could think of to show her how he felt involved lavish gifts
or solving problems for her. But right now, he was her problem.
So, what to do?
Well, there was one thing. He pulled out his phone and texted Belinda to hold off on finalizing the decisions they’d discussed
that day. That was a start, but it wasn’t enough.
Ava had said she didn’t want gifts, but there was a Cartier store nearby. He couldn’t resist pulling up the website to see
about booking an appointment. However, after a few minutes of scrolling through the selection of watches, he set the laptop
aside and picked up his phone to text Ashton.
Roman: What do you do when you’ve fucked up? Is a watch better, or should I get her earrings?
The phone rang immediately.
Ashton started in before Roman could even say hello, speaking rapidly in Spanish. “Tell me you haven’t messed up my wedding
already.”
Roman answered in Spanish as well. “It’s not about the wedding.”
“So it’s about Ava. What did you fuck up?”
Roman switched to English to explain the argument they’d had. After he finished, Ashton sighed.
“I told you, their family is complicated. Especially for Ava.”
“I get that, but how do I make this up to her?”
“Does she want you to? Or are you throwing money at the problem to make yourself feel better?”
Damn, direct hit. Was that what he was doing? “Maybe a little of both?”
“If you get her an expensive gift, it’ll look like you’re buying her affection. A Cartier watch is not an apology.”
“I guess the same goes for an overnight trip to Vieques,” Roman said.
“Yes, that’s a great way to not show off your money.”
“I scheduled it before we got here. It’s supposed to be romantic.”
“Keep thinking. Ava won’t open up until you do.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
Ashton made a sound like he didn’t believe that, but before Roman could demand clarification, Ashton said, “Look, Jasmine
has been a lot more relaxed about this whole thing knowing that Ava is there, so don’t screw this up, okay?”
“Jasmine doesn’t strike me as a Bridezilla,” Roman mused. “I mean, she is letting us make most of the decisions.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t true, since he was the one who’d made all the decisions today... which was why Ava was currently locked in her room.
Fuck, he really needed to apologize.
Ashton’s tone was ominous. “You have no idea. Ciao.”
The line went dead. Roman lowered the phone, thinking about what his friend had said.
He recalled Ava’s reaction when he’d offered to get her a new phone. She’d pulled out that stern teacher’s voice he found so sexy and told him, in no uncertain terms, not to buy her things. A Cartier watch or a new car wouldn’t make the kind of impression he was aiming for. Besides, he needed to show Ava that he was more than his bank account—even if he sometimes wasn’t sure of that himself anymore. He had to show her more of him and make it clear that he was nothing like her ex-husband.
Moreover, he had to show her he was sorry .
They were in Puerto Rico, a place that held a deep connection to both of them. Sure, there were all kinds of romantic touristy
things they could do, like visiting Viejo San Juan or Culebra. There were places of historical and cultural significance,
like hiking in El Yunque, the rainforest, or a tour of El Morro, the Spanish fortress. But none of those were personal to
him, and while Ava might enjoy them, he didn’t think they’d mean much to her aside from a good time together. These places
didn’t hold the emotional revelation Ashton was talking about. And Ashton, who’d been closed off for years, had learned a
thing or two about opening up, thanks to Jasmine.
The patio doors slid open and Roman greeted Oscar.
“Senor.” Oscar leaned down. “Pardon the interruption. Dinner has arrived. Would you like a drink first?”
Roman glanced at his laptop, which was still open to the Cartier page and not the reports he’d planned to look at. A drink
wouldn’t hurt. He was supposed to be on vacation, after all. He asked for the Casa Donato Quince neat. Oscar returned with the aged rum, and when
Roman caught a whiff of the familiar scent of caramel and oak, he knew exactly where to take Ava.
He just hoped she understood how much it meant to him.
After firing off a text to put his plans into effect, he went inside to tell Ava that it was time to eat. He knocked on the door of her room, but there was no answer.
“Ava?”
Nothing.
He knocked again, then eased the door open and peeked inside. The room was empty.
After a quick check of the rooms upstairs confirmed that she wasn’t in the house, Roman called for Oscar, who appeared in
an instant.
“?Dónde está Ava?” Roman asked.
“No sé, senor. Ella no está aquí.”
A tickle of fear spread through Roman’s gut. Where the hell was she? He tamped down on his panic and thanked Oscar. “Si ella
llega, dímelo.”
“Claro.”
If Oscar saw her, he’d notify Roman. But in the meantime, that didn’t explain where she was now. Roman sent her a text, waiting
a few seconds to see if there was an indication she was typing her reply, but there was nothing. Then he called.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
It went straight to voicemail each time.
Ava was an adult, not a missing child. She was allowed to come and go as she pleased. Still, Roman’s mind supplied an image
of Ava lying face down in the water—likely his mother’s fault for watching so many true crime shows at home.
A line of thinking that did nothing to calm him down.
Roman called to Oscar that he was going out to look for her, then grabbed his wallet and stuffed his feet into sneakers. He yanked open the front door—and caught Ava when she fell into his arms.
Relief washed over him, and he tightened his grip on her. “Hold on, mi amor. I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Just hot.”
She clearly wasn’t fine. There were no signs of blood or injury that he could see, but her face was flushed, and tiny hairs
stuck to her sweaty forehead. Her gaze seemed unfocused, and she could barely stand on her own feet. Pressing his fingers
to the side of her neck, Roman noted that her pulse was racing.
He exchanged a glance with Oscar, who hovered in the kitchen doorway holding two glass bottles of cold water from the fridge.
“Find a thermometer,” Roman whispered to Oscar, who handed him one of the bottles. Oscar nodded and hurried off, and Roman
walked Ava to her room with a stabilizing arm around her waist. The fact that she leaned all her weight on him meant she was
in a bad state, and he was alarmed when her head lolled to the side.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked softly, ignoring the anxious pounding of his own heart.
“I went for a walk on the beach.” Her voice was breathy and faint. “I guess I went farther than I meant to, and it was so
hot...”
“Sounds like you had a little too much sun. Did you drink water?”
She shook her head, then whimpered like it pained her. “I have a migraine.”
“We’re going to cool you down, okay?” Roman sat Ava on the edge of her bed and uncapped the water. “Here, take a sip of this.”
He held the bottle while she drank, and willed his nerves to settle. She was here, and she was safe. It didn’t matter that
seeing her like this scared the shit out of him, he would do whatever was necessary to care for her.
This was different than when he’d seen her after the EpiPen incident. Then, he’d been able to comfort her. Now, he just wanted
to make her better immediately. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this powerless.
“Not too much,” he murmured, shifting the water bottle away. Then he eased her into a reclining position and touched the back
of his hand to her forehead and cheek. She was warm, but he couldn’t tell if she had a fever or not.
“Ava, we have to get you into the tub. Is that all right?”
Her eyes were closed. “Take my dress off. But not, like, in a sexy way.”
He bit back a laugh. “You have my word.”
When she waved her hand at the halter ties on the back of her neck, he took that as an indication to carry on. After slipping
off her sandals, he eased the dress from her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her chest and shoulders were clammy and flushed
from the sun. He left her panties on and helped her stand again.
The bathroom had a padded bench, so he sat her there while he turned on the taps in the tub and adjusted the temperature.
There was a quiet knock on the bathroom door, and after making sure Ava wasn’t in danger of falling off the bench, Roman slipped
out.
Oscar was waiting with a digital thermometer and packets of electrolyte powder.
“I called the doctor,” the butler said in a hushed voice as he passed the items to Roman. “If her temperature is over one hundred and three degrees, we must take her to the hospital. She might need an IV.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t.”
“I’ll leave more water on the dresser. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Roman ducked back into the bathroom and turned on the digital thermometer. “Put this in your mouth,” he told Ava.
“You promised not to make this sexy,” she grumbled, her eyes barely open, but she complied.
Roman smoothed the hair back from her forehead. Jokes were a good sign, right?
When the thermometer beeped, he checked it. One hundred point two degrees. Not hospital levels, but she had to be feeling
awful.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a touch of heat exhaustion, mi amor,” he said, helping her to her feet.
She wobbled. “No shit.”
Roman would have laughed if he weren’t so worried about her. “I’m going to pick you up and put you in the tub, okay?”
“You’re going to get your suit wet.”
“I’m—” He looked down at his polo shirt and chinos, just to be sure. “Ava, I’m not wearing a suit.”
She wound her arms around his neck and spoke into his shoulder. “You’re always wearing a suit in my mind.”
Not knowing what to make of that, he lifted her gently and carried her over to the tub. He lowered her into the water with
great care, glad he’d been keeping up with the lower back exercises his physical therapist had assigned. Ava let out a sigh
as the cool water lapped over her bare thighs and she relaxed into the tub with her head resting on the edge.
“Is that better?” he asked, unable to keep the roughness out of his voice. His only focus was on her wellness, but he couldn’t ignore the way her nipples hardened into peaks as the cool water teased the edges of her breasts.
Or the relief he felt that she was letting him take care of her.
“Mmm. Yeah.” Then she held her breath and slipped down, dunking her head under the water. When she resurfaced, she wiped her
eyes and blinked at him sleepily.
“This is better, thanks.” She sounded a bit more like herself. “Can I have another sip? And my migraine meds. They’re on the
counter.”
He retrieved the water bottle and the pill and stayed while she soaked, watching her attentively and helping her bathe. When
she seemed to have cooled down, he lifted her from the tub, even though she protested about getting him wet. He dried her
off as she shivered and he bundled her into a robe before tucking her into the bed.
“Sleep.” He stroked her wet curls, winding them around his finger one by one, as he’d seen her do. “I’ll stay right here.”
“My hair is going to be a mess tomorrow,” she murmured into the satin pillowcase.
“And you’ll still be beautiful,” he whispered, but she was already asleep.
Oscar brought Roman a plate of food and another bottle of water for Ava, and Roman ate dinner on the bed next to her. He read
over sales reports on his tablet, pausing frequently to check Ava’s temperature and replacing the cold towel on her forehead
every time Oscar brought a new one. Roman didn’t relax until she’d dropped below ninety-nine degrees, and he finally sent
Oscar home. It was clear the older man didn’t want to leave, but Roman promised he’d stay by Ava’s side all night.
The Wedding Flashers group text—which had a new name every week, thanks to Michelle—was lighting up with questions about the day’s meetings, but Roman didn’t have it in him to provide details yet. Ashton had texted him directly: Please tell me you didn’t buy her a car. So Roman notified the group that Ava had taken a little too much sun and was resting. Jasmine asked him to send an update
on Ava’s health in the morning, and the messages calmed down.
Ava slept, and Roman watched over her. Until finally, around 1 a.m., he stretched out beside her and let himself sleep, too.