Chapter 35 #2
“It is to me, Rome. Because I need to trust that when you and I aren’t together, you aren’t going to be fighting with random assholes who push your buttons. I need to know that if I’m on a job, that you’re not going to get pissed if you see me talking to someone—”
“You weren’t just talking to someone. He was propositioning you.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but not the urge to spit out my next words.
“Yeah, and for two hours, you were wandering around flirting with women and cheesing it up. Fist-bumping everyone, laughing, and chatting.”
“Is that what this is?” he asks, his voice somehow cruel in a way I’ve never encountered. “That I didn’t give you enough attention?” I look at him as if I’ve never seen him, because in a way, it feels that way.
“This is about you being a completely different person today,” I say.
“I wasn’t a different person, Lana. I was me. This is me at Indy.” My stomach drops with his words and what they mean for our future.
“Well, then, when we get back, this isn’t going to work,” I say, the words grating through a tight throat.
I barely notice as he turns onto the street the hotel is on—our drive is almost done.
I simultaneously want it to last forever and am desperate to get out of this vehicle, feeling suffocated by the tension.
“Is that a threat?” he asks, sounding irritated. I don’t look over at him, not sure I’d want to see what’s written on his face. Instead, I shake my head, face remaining as neutral as I can manage.
“No, Rome. It’s me telling you I can’t be with someone who changes themselves every five seconds, someone who is completely different from room to room.
I need someone I can rely on, and if you can’t be that, then this isn’t going to work.
Especially if you’re not even willing to acknowledge it.
” He puts the car into park and turns to me.
I think for a moment he’s going to apologize, to agree, something to tell me this isn’t a lost cause, but then he breaks my heart when I didn’t even realize I had given him that power.
“You’re one to talk about being different people from room to room.”
“Excuse me?”
“You call yourself a chameleon. You change yourself to fit in, you change yourself so people will like you. Do you even know who you are?” It hits somewhere soft and dark, somewhere I’ve protected even from myself for so long, and the unexpectedness of his words takes my breath away.
“What?”
“Did I fuck up today and fall back into old patterns? Absolutely, but I’d do it again, because I hated the way he looked at you and the way he tried to use you.
And for the record, I was listening to that conversation for a bit, and I was so fucking proud of the way you stood your ground.
I only stepped in when he moved for you, because whether you want to fight your own battles or not, any time you’re in danger, I’m going to step in.
I want to protect you, all versions of you.
But what about you, Lana? You told me you can’t be with someone different from room to room.
It seems a little bit hypocritical, don’t you think?
” My blood goes cold as the warmth leaves his words.
“I’m trying to change, to do better, to be better.
But when this is over, you’re the one who’s going to leave everything behind, make an entirely new personality, new life, new story. ”
My gut twists, and nausea roils through me
“It’s my job, Rome.” My words are shaky, and it brings some of the light back into his eyes, the kindness that he doesn’t always share, but he always shares with me.
“I know that. I do. And I also know that in the last two months, you’ve come out of your shell and become someone new altogether, someone who doesn’t have to hide or please others.
I saw you grow a backbone and gain confidence, becoming a version of you I don’t think you knew was possible.
When this is all over, what are you going to do?
Go back to pretending you’re someone new every week? Lose that light you gained?”
Suddenly, a lump forms in my throat and it has nothing to do with this argument we’re having and everything to do with the end of this mission. The questions I’ve been desperately ignoring as if they didn’t even exist at all.
Because for the first time in the four years I’ve been a Maven, the idea of leaving this version of my life I’ve created feels soul-destroying. The idea of moving on to some other job, some other life, some other cover story makes my stomach twist, and it’s clear Rome knows it.
“You were born to be in this life, Lana. You are meant to be here.”
“No, I’m not,” I spat out, shaking my head.
“You are, but you’re too scared to admit it. You’re meant to drive, Lana. You’re meant to be out there, showing girls that you belong, to take up space just as much as I do, or Jordan does, or Tyler does. You deserve that, but for some reason, you refuse to see it as an option.”
“Because it’s not!” I shout. “It’s not, Rome. This is temporary! This isn’t my real life.”
“Are we temporary?” he asks, voice soft, and the world stops.
It feels like a pivotal moment, one where the wrong word can make or break everything, but I don’t know what words I need, what words I want to say.
But my silence seems to be enough. His face falls, and my gut crashes through the floorboards with it, and I realize then the right answer was obviously a quick, succinct, no.
But how could I say that with full certainty? Especially knowing that, hopefully soon, we’ll both be going in different directions, potentially in ways the other doesn’t approve of.
Still, I need to say something. Anything. So I tell him the first thing that’s on my heart. “I don’t want this to be temporary.” It’s the most I can give him through my conflicted thoughts and feelings, but it seems to be enough.
The pit in my stomach slowly unfurls when the very ends of his lips tip up, when he tightens his grip still in my hand, pulling it up to press his lips to my knuckles.
It’s soft and sweet and melts through some of the nerves.
I know in a perfect world, I want this to be long-lasting, to change both of us for the better, to be a forever kind of thing.
Unfortunately, I don’t know how to reconcile that world with my reality.
“I think…” I start, my voice soft. “I think I’m going to sleep in my own room tonight.”
“What? Why?” he asks, and if I wasn’t so conflicted right now, I’d find it cute.
“I need a night. I need to go over my notes with Demi. I need to work,” I say, even if the words feel like an unintentional jab.
“I’ve been putting all of the heavy lifting on Demi, and that’s not fair.
” It’s a weak excuse, and I know that. After a few moments, he takes a deep breath, letting it go with a heavy sigh.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Can I at least walk you to your hotel room?” I nod, and he gives me a small, soft smile tinged with sadness before he opens his car door, walks around to mine, and helps me out.
He holds my hand as we walk, but we don’t speak.
When he stops at the door to my hotel room, he presses his lips to my forehead and whispers, “I’ll see you tomorrow.
” I watch him leave, each step making my heart feel heavier, before I finally turn to tap my keycard.
“Where’s lover boy?” Demi asks, sitting up and looking at me, surprised. “I thought you’d be at his place tonight.” I roll my lips between them, set my bag down, and sit on the edge of the bed.
“In his room,” I say, looking down at my hands.
“And you’re here because…?”
“Because we… I guess we got into a fight.”
“You guess?” My lower lip wobbles, and the wave of emotions begins to crest. Demi’s face goes soft as she moves to sit beside me and pulls me into her side. “Oh, Lana. Tell me everything.”
Then I do, because if there’s one thing Demi and I are good at together, it’s figuring things out.