Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
I’m not sure what’s happening in my life or in my not-so-real marriage.
Here’s what I do know: Roman might have admitted to liking me last night, he absolutely gave me the best kiss of my entire life, and he slept right next to me again.
The man is a pro at boundaries. Once again, he stayed on top of my comforter and while wrapping an arm around me and cradling me close to him. He told me things Brice said about me. Things I’m not sure I would have believed had he not been so specific.
“Brice was so proud of your solo in the church choir. He said you sounded like an angel.” Roman didn’t go to church with us, and I sure as heck didn’t tell him about that solo.
“Brice hated your homecoming dress. With a passion. He said you looked all grown up, and he would have to beat off the seniors with a stick.” Roman didn’t go to homecoming his and Brice’s senior year, my freshman year. He had a soccer tryout in Vegas and missed it.
“Brice liked watching you using your pottery wheel. He said it was relaxing. He said your hands moved like they just knew what to do without hardly any training. He said it amazed him.”
That one made me pause. “He said that?” I asked after being quiet for a full thirty minutes of Roman’s memories.
“He did. You amazed him.”
I fell asleep in Roman’s arms, tears on my cheeks, and feeling a little lighter than I had the day before.
This morning, Roman is up and cooking while I lie in my bed, thinking about all he said again and again. Until my phone pings.
Willow: I’m ready for my morning dose of Stella’s great at …
Me: Kissing. Stella is great at kissing.
And then, my phone is ringing.
I lower the volume of my cell before answering Willow’s FaceTime call.
“What does that mean?” she bellows—which is why my volume is down.
I peek at my door, but it’s shut tight, and Roman is nowhere in sight. “It means that last night, I decided that I’m excellent at kissing,” I whisper.
Willow’s jaw falls open half an inch.
“At least if I’m kissing Roman.”
“I thought there was no kissing. No kissing at all. You said he—”
“I know what I said. He was being respectful. He was creating boundaries. He’s a gentleman, Will.”
“Jerry!” Willow yells, and thankfully only my bedroom and I are her witnesses. “Stella kissed her husband!”
The volume is too low for me to hear Jerry’s belted response from some other room.
“Willow,” I say. I need her attention. “I need to go. He’s making breakfast.”
She sucks in a breath. “Breakfast! Does that mean—”
“Hush,” I say. “He always makes breakfast!”
“But I need more. There was kissing and …”
“And I’ll text you later. Love you!” I say, and then I hang up on my best friend. It’s fine. She can complain to Jerry to get it all out of her system.
I hurry out into the kitchen, anxious to see my husband. Wow, that word hits differently this morning.
Crap. Why didn’t I brush my teeth before coming out here? Why does Roman always look like he’s ready for a calendar photoshoot? He’s ready to be Mr. December right out of bed. My personal Roman Empire.
His eyes dart my way. “Good morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I say, swallowing down my morning breath.
Roman—wonder boundary boy—steps over to me, lifts a hand to the side of my cheek, sliding it over my skin until I am covered in goosebumps and his fingertips are nestled into my hair. “Did you sleep well?” Leaning in, he presses a kiss to my forehead, his thumb tracing the pad of my bottom lip.
My eyes stay glued to his face, and my lips stay firmly shut.
“Is this …” The pressure of his hand cupping my cheek lessens. “Okay? I shouldn’t assume—”
“It’s okay,” I say, pressing a hand over his, keeping him in place. Gosh, I am torn between wanting to keep him close and wanting to run to scrub the nighttime grime from my teeth.
“Maybe we could go out tonight? Like a date?” he asks, and my stomach becomes a circus of flying trapeze artists.
I never imagined Roman, my husband, would want to date me.
“That would be nice.”
“Perfect,” he says, before letting his touch fall away.
My heart pounds in my chest.
“I’ll be right back. Start without me,” Roman says, another small peck to my head.
He’s set two plates with hashbrowns and bacon on the table.
My phone pings in my PJs pocket, and I pull it out, certain Willow isn’t done yelling at me. But it’s Rosalie.
Rosalie: Hey. Remember how you said maybe you could teach my grammy to use a pottery wheel?
Another ping before I can respond.
Rosalie: See, she and my grandpa are doing this homemade gift thing for each other. And, well, I was telling her about my gift idea for her, and she decided she didn’t want to wait until after Christmas. She wants it now. To make my grandpa something. Would that be okay?
Rosalie: You can say no. We’ll still be friends.
I reread her messages, smirking at the sweetness of two elderly people giving each other homemade gifts. Rosalie’s grandma sounds like a kindred spirit. And Roman has put me in the best mood of my life. Which means, I hit reply without much thought.
Me: Does today work? Two?
I glance at the clock on Roman’s wall before hitting send. It’s nine in the morning. I’ll have a couple hours to prep, and we’ll have a few hours to play in the clay before I go out with Roman.
Rosalie: I actually took half the day off for a dentist appointment this morning. So today, two will work! You are a literal angel, Stella! Grammy is excited!