9. Elora
9
ELORA
45°52′55″N 123°57′34″W
S tanding in the open doorway to my room, I scan over the space I’ve called home for the past five months. Everything is exactly as it was when I moved in, and it looks like I was never here at all.
Shutting the door, I walk to Roman’s room and knock twice. A useless endeavor since I already know he won’t answer. This morning, I woke with the sun, and not surprisingly, he left sometime in the dark, leaving only the smell of his cologne on my pillow and the blanket he covered me with. I told myself he went back to his room, but in my gut, I knew he left without telling me goodbye, and that was confirmed when I went to the parking lot to put the last of my stuff in my van this morning and found his car gone.
After a minute, when he doesn’t answer, I head down the stairs. Hurt and maybe even a little angry, I go to the office, and as soon as I push through the door, Casey smiles at me from behind the desk.
“Are you taking off?”
“Yeah, is Ernest in?” I glance down the hall toward his office door.
“No, he has an appointment this morning. He won’t be in until this evening.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, my heart heavier than it had been already. I pass her over my keys. “I cleaned my room and changed the sheets, so you don’t need to add it to Beth’s list this morning.”
“You’re the best.” Her smile is kind. “We’re going to miss you around here.”
“I’m going to miss you guys too.” I start to turn toward the door but stop. “Can you tell me if the guy in Room 17 checked out?”
“Umm…” She takes her eyes off me and looks at the computer before she begins to type. “It looks like his key was returned early this morning.”
Darn. Logically, I know Roman didn’t owe me anything, not even a goodbye. But still, it stings that he told me I’d see him before I left and lied.
“Did you need something from him?” she asks, and I take a step back toward the door.
“No.” I wipe my palms down the front of my jean shorts. “Will you tell Ernest that I said goodbye and that I’ll call?”
Her face softens. “Of course.”
“Thanks, Casey.”
“You’re welcome and safe travels, Elora.”
“Bye,” I say softly before pushing out the door. With my insides twisting into a knot of nervousness, I walk to the parking lot. I try not to scan for Roman’s car, but I still do. It’s nowhere in sight, confirming once more that he’s really gone.
Opening my door, I get in behind the wheel and plug in my phone. My van might be old, but the person who owned it before me upgraded the stereo system and added GPS. The only luxury, given the state of the interior—ripped seats and missing carpet.
Pulling up Roman’s number, I press the Message option and type quickly.
Me: You’re a jerk. I can’t believe you left without even saying goodbye.
I stare at the message with my finger hovering over the Send button. Part of me wants him to know I’m disappointed that he didn’t say goodbye, especially after last night. But another part of me doesn’t want him to know I care at all.
As I’m about to delete the text, a knock startles me, making me jump. The moment I turn my head toward the passenger door, my eyes lock with ones that look more seafoam-green than blue under the brim of a baseball cap. With my heart in my stomach, I watch Roman open the door and toss a black backpack on the floorboard, then go to the back door, open it up, and deposit a suitcase on top of the mattress where mine still are before forcing the door closed once more.
“After we get your oil changed, I’ll take over driving,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to mine a moment later.
I shake my head. “What?”
“I’ll take over driving,” he repeats, distracted as he pulls his cell out of his pocket. After glancing at the screen, his eyes come back to mine and soften.
“I didn’t leave without saying goodbye. I had to deal with the tow company that’s taking my car back to New York for me.”
“Tow company?” I shake my head, completely confused except for the realization my finger must’ve pressed the Send button on the message I typed to him after he startled me.
“I met them this morning so they could put my car on a truck. It took longer than I expected since I had to drive to meet them about twenty minutes away and wait for a car to drive me back over here.”
What the heck is happening?
“Why would they take your car? Don’t you need it?”
“No, I’m going with you.”
“You’re going with me?” My brows drag together. “Aren’t you going home?”
“I will when you’re done with what you’re doing.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you traveling across the country alone.”
“I can take care of myself, Roman. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I didn’t say you can’t take care of yourself. I said I don’t want you traveling alone.”
“What about your friends, your family? Don’t you think they miss you, that they’re worried and want you home?”
“Don’t you think yours do?”
“No. But our situations are different. All I really had was my mom and my ex. Now, I don’t have either of those things.”
“And I don’t have anything waiting for me back in New York.” He glances at the dash. “We need to hit the road if you still want to get the oil changed and find a campground tonight.”
“Roman,” I whisper, feeling caught off guard by this whole situation.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.”
Staring at him, I swallow over the lump in my throat. Five minutes ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, and now he’s sitting next to me, telling me he’s going with me.
Our attachment to each other is probably unhealthy for a multitude of reasons. But all I can think of is that once more, his ship found mine in the ocean, and I don’t feel so stranded anymore.
Without a word, I turn in my seat, put the keys in the ignition, start the engine, and back out of my parking spot.
Sitting in the waiting area of the auto shop we stopped at to have my oil changed, I watch Roman—who is now wearing his baseball cap backward—talk to the woman at the counter. The poor woman is probably ten years older than me and hasn’t stopped blushing since he approached her. She looks ready to swoon from his attention. I don’t blame her. Between the tattoos, the ball cap, the snug black tee he’s wearing, shorts, and sneakers, he’s a lot to take in.
For his part, he looks oblivious. I don’t think he realizes his effect on the female population. That, or he’s so used to the reaction he gets from women, it’s just normal to him.
Taking a sip of my free coffee, I ball up the plastic wrapper of the honey bun I ate that was also free and get up to toss it in the trash. When I’m done, I walk toward the counter. I couldn’t hear what the two of them were talking about from where I was sitting, not with the TV on above me and the sound of machines working in the background. But now I’m close enough to hear Roman ask if she can have the guys who took my van back ten minutes ago check my tires.
“The tires are new. The guys don’t have to check them,” I say, and two heads turn in my direction. I smile at the woman, feeling Roman’s gaze on me, but I don’t look at him.
“Babe.” That’s new. He’s never called me “babe” before, and I’m not sure I like it now, with his tone hinting at annoyance.
“My tires are fine,” I repeat, looking up at him.
“It doesn’t hurt to check,” the woman says, and I glance at her, but her eyes are on Roman like she’s seeking some kind of approval for agreeing with him.
“Thanks,” I grit out, forcing a smile. “But all I need is an oil change today.”
“Elora.”
“About how much longer?” I ask her.
“I’d say fifteen minutes or so,” she says quietly, and I nod, then walk off toward the waiting area.
Roman doesn’t follow, and when I sit down and glance in their direction, with one look, I know he just ignored everything I said and is having her tell them to check the tires anyway.
I sigh, then pull out my phone when it rings. Seeing it’s Kandi calling, I answer.
“Hey, Kandi. How’s it going?”
“Great. Actually, spectacular. You have an offer on your property.”
“What?” My limbs tingle.
“And even better, it’s at full asking with our new price update, zero contingencies, and all cash.”
“Really?”
“Really. I confirmed everything with the real estate agent this morning, and they want to close in the next few weeks,” she says, and I drop my eyes to my lap.
I should be happy, or at least relieved that I won’t have to worry about the bills hanging over my head anymore, but all I feel curling around my insides is dread. Like my mom’s passing, I knew that selling the property would eventually happen, but I never thought about the sense of loss I’d feel, knowing I wouldn’t ever be able to go back home again.
“Elora?” Kandi calls, and I come out of my head.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here.” I lift my head and meet Roman’s gaze as he squats in front of me, resting his large palms on the tops of my thighs. His tattooed skin looks darker against my bare legs.
“Who is it?” he asks quietly.
“Kandi,” I whisper, and his eyes fill with understanding.
“I know this has all come as a surprise. I can send over the contract and give you a few hours to get back to me after you go over it.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I tell her softly.
“All right, I’m emailing you the contract now.”
“Thank you, Kandi. I’ll call you soon.” I hang up after hearing her say goodbye.
“You got an offer?” he asks, his eyes roaming over my face, and I nod.
“Come here.” He stands and pulls me up, wrapping his arms around me.
“I should be happy,” I say into his shirt as he palms the back of my head.
“It’s okay that you’re not.”
“I hope that whoever is buying it has kids and that they are as happy there as I was growing up.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but I feel his lips at the top of my hair. Taking his hand off the back of my head, he moves it down to my neck, then around to my jaw. Tipping my head back, he scans my eyes, then lets out a deep breath. He leans in and presses his lips against my forehead, holding them there.
My nose stings. There is something unmistakably huge about the simple gesture of affection from him.
Only I don’t know that “something” is that Roman Dante King has never shown affection to anyone, not when he was little, and definitely not since he became the man he is now.