21. Roman
21
ROMAN
40.7128° N, 74.0060° W
S itting in my grandmother’s dining room on a chair I pulled up next to her hospital bed, I watch Elora scroll through pictures of her mom on her phone. As she shows each one to Diana, she talks about her mom in that quiet way that makes you feel like you knew her personally.
When Diana smiles, I catch Elora's soft, sweet look when she sees it. Every day for the past couple of weeks, Diana has gotten a little stronger, a little more aware, and every day, Elora has insisted on coming over to spend time with her.
If I hadn’t met her, I’m not sure I would be doing the same, not with how hectic my life typically is with work. But Val’s death and being with Elora have made me realize there are things more important than making money. It’s okay to slow down and enjoy the moment, the place you are, and the people around you.
When the nurse comes into the room, Elora sends me an unhappy look because she knows that means our time here is up. And even if Diana can’t communicate much at this point, she’s made it clear she likes having her around, and Elora likes giving that to her. Maybe because she remembers what it was like for her mom, but I think it’s just her.
The night I met her, even in my drunken state, I recognized how unique her ability to give freely without seeking anything in return was. And that was exactly what drew me to her in the beginning. What made me curious about her.
“We’ll be back tomorrow.” Elora leans in to give Diana a gentle hug. “If you’d like us to bring you anything, just let the nurses know, and we’ll pick it up before we come over.”
With a nod from Diana, Elora walks to the end of the bed to get out of the way of the nurse, who starts to adjust the bed so she can take Diana to the bathroom before she has her afternoon meds that usually put her to sleep.
“We’ll see you tomorrow.” I lean down and touch my lips to the side of my grandmother’s head. My grandfather wouldn’t have allowed the show of affection if he were alive, but he’s not here to stop me.
After telling the nurses to call us for any reason, I take Elora’s hand and lead her out of the brownstone. The house has been in my family for three generations, and except for the plumbing, electrical, and kitchen, everything, including the furniture, is exactly as it was when the house was first built, making it feel more like a museum than a home.
When we get outside, I lead Elora around to the passenger door of my car and hold on to it as she slides inside, then I lean in to buckle her belt, something that has become a habit.
“I really wish she would agree to come stay at your place,” she says after I press my lips to hers. This isn’t the first time she’s brought up this conversation. We have it every time we leave Diana.
“She wants to be in her home.”
“I know, but she has to be lonely.”
“She’s not lonely. People are in and out all day, and Mom tried to stay with her when she was released, but she’s been adamant that she doesn’t want people fawning over her twenty-four-seven.”
“Fine.” She sighs, and I smile as I fold out of the car and slam the door.
Walking around to the driver’s side, I slide in behind the wheel as my phone begins to ring. Seeing it’s Ricardo calling, I press Accept.
“Dad.”
“Roman, are you around?”
“Define around. Elora and I are just leaving Diana’s. What’s going on?”
“I need to speak with you. After you drop Elora off, can you come by the house?”
“Did something happen?”
“We just need to talk,” he says. “In private.”
“Give me an hour.” I hang up without saying goodbye, annoyance already settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Is everything okay?” Elora asks softly, and I glance over at her.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I force a reassuring smile in her direction, not wanting her to worry. It takes us thirty minutes to make it across town to my building, and since I refuse to just drop her off like she insists, I don’t make it to my parents’ house on 63rd Street for another hour. When I arrive, I park on the street, head up the wide steps to the front door, and ring the bell.
“Roman,” Jane, who has run my parents’ home for the last ten years, greets me with a smile. “How have you been?”
“Good, how are the kids?”
“Not kids anymore. Taylor is in her second year of college, and Marty is graduating next year.”
“How did that happen?”
“I ask myself the same question every day.” She stops at the bottom of the winding staircase in the entryway. “Your dad is upstairs. He said to send you up when you arrived.”
“Thanks.” I jog up the steps to the third floor, where Ricardo’s home office is located. When I get to the door, it’s open wide, so I knock before stepping inside, finding him seated behind his huge oak desk. When I was growing up, I remember how intimidating he always seemed when he’d call me in here to talk. It was never to just shoot the shit or check on how I was doing. It was always just so that he could sit behind his big fucking desk and make me feel insignificant.
“Roman, have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.” I stop in front of the chairs set up across from him. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you about this Elora girl you’re seeing.”
“She’s not just someone I’m seeing, Ricardo. I know my mother has already expressed to you how important she is to me.”
“You might feel differently about her when you hear what I have to tell you.” He eyes me as he waits. I know he’s attempting to build suspense before he drops whatever bomb he thinks he’s holding.
“Spit it out,” I clip out, annoyed.
“Have you two spoken about her past?”
“Of course.”
“Then she told you that her father is in prison for murder, attempted murder, and kidnapping.”
“She’s told me.” His eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise.
“And you don’t have a problem with that information?”
“No.” I lean forward and rest my hands on the back of one of the chairs, getting closer. “I do have a problem with you digging into her past and finding out information that was not given to you by her or me.”
“Did you actually think I wouldn’t look into her?” He says it like I’m stupid for even doubting him. “I have our family name to protect.”
“That name was given to you by default ,” I remind him, and his eyes narrow. If there is one thing Ricardo hates, it’s the reminder that he is not a King, that his given name that used to hold a little weight in this city, no longer does. His father and siblings lost most of their family fortune with bad investments and their need to pretend they have more than they do.
“What do you think your mother, your grandmothers, and your sisters would think about your girlfriend’s past?”
“If you’d like, you can tell them and find out, but you should know their opinions of Elora don’t change my feelings where she is concerned.”
“She’s tra?—”
“What’s going on?” My mother’s question cuts off whatever it was he was about to say, which is a good thing. If he finished saying the word I think was going to come out of his mouth, no one could have stopped me from jumping across his desk and taking him to the floor of his own office.
Pushing back from the chair to stand up straight, I meet my mother’s gaze. “Your husband was just letting me know that he ran a background check on Elora.”
“Ricardo,” Mom gasps, seeming completely shocked. “Please tell me that isn’t true.”
“Her father is a murderer,” he defends.
“And your father was a cheater and wife beater before he got too weak to perform either of those acts.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there is no hiding that she is angry.
“This isn’t about my father.”
“Then why is it about Elora’s?” she asks, and he glares at her.
“She’s not?—”
“She came to the hospital to be with my son despite our less-than-warm welcome and has sat with my mother every day since she was released from their care. Neither of those acts has gone unnoticed by me, even though I know she didn’t do them to win me over or garner my approval.” Dragging her eyes off his, she looks at me. “I had no idea he was looking into her, but nothing like this will happen again.” She shoots him a look, daring him to argue, before she spins on her heels and walks out of the office.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” I turn on him, and his jaw twitches, but he doesn’t answer, so I continue. “I’m only going to say this once, so I hope it sinks in. Elora is not a threat, and if you attempt to come between us again, you’re not going to like the consequences, Ricardo, because I will let everything burn before I lose her.”
“Are you threatening me?” He scoffs.
“I don’t need to threaten you, Ricardo. You and I both know that.” I turn for the door and head out, then down the winding staircase to the first floor. My warning was not an idle one. Without me, Ricardo has close to nothing.
“Where is my mother?” I ask Jane when I reach the bottom step, and she points me in the direction of the kitchen. When I step through the doorway a minute later, I find my mom pulling out a bottle of Pinot from the wine fridge.
“Let me help.” I walk to her, taking the wine opener from her when she attempts to screw it into the top of the bottle but almost stabs herself because her hands are shaking. That isn’t the first clue she’s upset. She only ever drinks when she’s angry unless she’s out to dinner.
“I’m sorry.” She sighs, leaning against the counter. “I should have known he would do something like that, but I thought?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut her off before she can tell me that she thought he would respect her enough to listen to her about leaving Elora alone, when even she knows she has never held even an ounce of control or sway when it comes to him. “I’m not surprised he looked into her, but he doesn’t realize she and I have had days upon days alone to talk for hours at a time and get to know each other. He can’t tell me anything about her that I don’t already know.” I pass her the bottle when it’s opened and watch her fill her glass.
After taking a sip, she walks to the small round table in the kitchen and takes a seat. I pull up one across from her.
“Diana adores her.” I know she’s talking about Elora.
“I’m not surprised.”
“And you love her.”
“Yes.”
“When I met your father…” She shakes her head. “Your real father, all I wanted was for my parents to accept him, to give him a chance.” She looks out the window that overlooks the small backyard. “They never did, and I despised them for that. I swore I would never be like them. I promised myself that no matter who my kids brought home, I would accept them regardless of their money or background.” Her eyes meet mine. “Then I treated Elora exactly as my parents treated your dad.”
“Diana and Giorgio met him?”
“Once, but my father sized him up and found him lacking before Kenneth even said a word.” Her smile is small and filled with nostalgia. “Not that your dad cared what my father thought about him.”
“You loved him?” I whisper, and tears fill her eyes.
“He’s the only man I ever truly loved.” Shaking her head, she wipes away the tears before they can fall. “I don’t want you to think I don’t love Ricardo because I do; it’s just different.”
“I understand.” My fingers itch to reach out and take her hand, but we’ve never had that kind of relationship. Even the hug she gave me at the hospital was a surprise to me. Then again, growing up, physical touch to offer comfort to someone wasn’t something her dad would have allowed. He would have taken giving or receiving a hug as an act of weakness and Ricardo is cut from the same cloth.
“I guess you probably do.” Her eyes wander over my face. “I hope you’ll give me—us—the chance to get to know her.”
“I would like that. Being here has been a lot for her, and she’s still trying to find her footing.”
“We’ll plan for dinner. Sofia likes her. Lucia is… well… Lucia. So, you’ll have to give her time, but she’ll eventually warm up.”
“She’s not going anywhere, so there’s time.” I start to stand but stop when she reaches for me.
“I’m sorry about Val.” A fresh wave of tears fills her eyes, and a crushing weight lands in the center of my chest. Val was her baby; he pushed the boundaries set up by her father and later her husband by giving her that love and comfort no one else was brave enough to. I’m sure she misses the gentle affection he would often force on her, even though she pretended it annoyed her when he was here.
“I know.”
“And I know the decision was made by the doctors in the end, but hearing them agree with you after you pushed so hard was difficult.”
“He would have hated being stuck there,” I tell her gently. The pain surrounding that decision no longer feels as heavy as it once did, and I know it’s because of Elora and the closure she gave me while searching for her own.
“I miss him every single day.” She chokes on a sob. Unable to just sit and watch her cry, I push back from the table and walk around to where she’s sitting. “I’m okay.” Ignoring her lie, I drag her out of her chair.
“I’m sorry.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her as she soaks my tee with her tears.
I don’t have a child, but having Elora in my life now after years of feeling alone, I’m not sure how I would survive without her or if I even could if something suddenly took her from me.
When her tears begin to lessen, and her body goes limp against me, I move her back to her chair and help her sit before I squat in front of her.
“Have you spoken to anyone?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, wiping her cheeks before picking up her glass of wine.
“Have you talked to anyone about Val’s death, about how you’re coping with his loss, and everything that has happened with Diana?”
“I don’t need to talk to anyone.” She waves me away like the question, and the suggestion that she can’t handle the pain she’s feeling on her own is ridiculous.
“Everyone needs someone to talk to.”
“Who do you talk to?”
“Elora. It’s not always comfortable or easy, but it does help.”
“I’ll think about it. Sofia told me about a group of women who meet up once a week to talk about their kids they’ve lost.”
“That might be good for you.”
“Maybe.” She takes her eyes off me and fiddles with the stem of her wineglass.
“I’ll even go with you if you want.”
Her eyes dart to mine, and her face goes soft in a way I have never once in my life witnessed.
“I’ll let you know,” she whispers, and that’s as good as I’m going to get for now. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Sure.” I push up to stand, then help her up.
“Let me know when you’d like to have dinner. Elora and I will be heading out of town in a week or so to go to Wyoming, and after we leave there, I want to take her to New Orleans for a couple of days.”
“I will after I speak with your sisters this evening.” She eyes me, and I start to wander toward the door. “I’m glad you found her.”
“Me too.”
“Tell her I said hello.”
“I will.” I leave after saying goodbye to Jane, going to my car. When I’m almost there, I dial Elora’s number just to make sure she’s still home since, lately, she’s taken to exploring the area around the building, going a little farther each day. She claims that she’s afraid to go too far for fear of ending up lost and hasn’t been brave enough to take the train, even with me, but I have no doubt that she will eventually.
“Hey,” she answers, the background noise of the city loud enough that she has to shout slightly. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you?”
“Yeah, I passed by this art shop, and in the window, they had a photo of a boy with a deer. It made me think of your story about when you were in camp.”
I smile at that. “Where are you?”
“Umm, I think between 9th and 8th Street.”
“I’m two minutes away since I was almost home when I called you. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“I don’t mind walking.”
“I know, but I want to pick you up.”
“Is everything okay?”
“All good. My mom said to tell you hi and that she wants to have dinner soon.”
“Really?” The relief in her voice makes me realize how badly she’s been hoping to make some sort of connection with my family.
“She’s going to talk to my sisters this evening and figure out when we can all get together. I told her that we’re heading out of town next week, so if it doesn’t happen before, then we’ll do it when we get back home.”
“Okay,” she says softly as I spot her on the street, standing near a storefront, with her hair up in a bun on top of her head and wearing one of the simple summer dresses I had the salesgirl at Nordstrom pick out for her. Even if she doesn’t feel like she fits in quite yet, she looks like she belongs in Manhattan.
“Look to your right,” I say as I double park, and she turns her head my way, a smile ghosting her lips. I get out to meet her on the sidewalk, dropping a kiss on her soft lips before walking her to the passenger door.
“I like this dress on you,” I tell her, skating my hand across the tops of her thighs as I buckle her in.
“Thanks. Some guy bought it for me.”
“Some guy, huh?” I meet her gaze, and she bites her bottom lip as she nods.
“That was nice of him.”
“I guess.”
“Are things serious between you two?”
“Maybe.” The word comes out slightly breathy when I slide my fingers up the skirt, stopping at the apex of her thighs, my fingertips barely skimming over the lace between her legs.
“Maybe?” When I get her shaky nod, I adjust the skirt of her dress, putting it back in place.
Standing back, I close the door and walk around the trunk, then slide in behind the wheel.
As I drive around the block to the parking garage, the air around us becomes thick with desire, and it takes everything in me not to touch her as she shifts in her seat and rubs her thighs together.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling into my parking space under the building a few minutes later.
“Great.” She gets out of the car, and I meet her at her door. Taking her hand, I walk her to the elevator and press the button. The doors open on cue since they lead directly to my apartment, and no one has gone upstairs since I left.
“Tell me about the guy who bought you that dress.” I turn on her when the doors close behind us.
“Why?” she asks as I step into her space, and she backs up, bumping against the wall. “Does he matter?” She rests her hands against my chest as I grip her waist.
“I guess not.” I slide my hands over her bottom and down the back of her thighs, then coast them up beneath her dress. When I find the lacy material at her hips, I drag it down, and she doesn't hesitate to step out of it. Grabbing the scrap of material from the floor, I shove it into my pocket.
“What are you going to do with those?”
“Keep them as a souvenir.” I grin, and she whimpers against my mouth as I lift her off the ground and press her against the wall. Using my hips to hold her in place, I yank her dress up over her ass and drag down the front of my shorts. There is no need to think about stopping to find a condom. A week ago, I got the all-clear, and she and I had the conversation about losing them altogether.
Sliding my hand between her legs and finding her drenched, I wrap my hand around her jaw. “You’re soaked.”
“I know.” She tightens her legs around my hips as I line myself up and slip into heaven, and that’s exactly what she feels like every single time I slide into her with nothing between us.
Capturing her mouth in a deep kiss, I drink down her moans as she uses the leverage she has to lift and slide back down my cock. Letting her jaw go, I grip her waist so I can take back a little control. Otherwise, this is going to be over before it’s really started. Slowing my thrusts, I lean back enough to watch myself sink into her stroke after stroke.
“Faster.”
“No,” I deny, almost sliding completely out of her before sinking back inside, bottoming out as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors begin to open.
“Is Clifford here?” she asks.
“No.” I nip her neck when her head falls back with a thud. The doors close, but the elevator stays put while the fingertips of one of her hands dig into my shoulder, and her other hand slides between us. “Elora,” I bite out, and she lifts her eyes to mine. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she whimpers as she touches our connection, then a hiss of breath escapes her lips as she rolls her fingers over her clit.
Watching her touch herself while her pussy is squeezing my cock is not conducive to me staying in control, and she knows it.
“Fuck,” I growl, losing it like we both knew I would. I fuck her harder, each thrust going as deep as possible, and even as I bump against her cervix, I want to go farther to be closer. Deeper.
When her inner walls begin to clamp down around me and my name leaves her mouth on a breathy moan, I let out a groan as I lose myself inside her, planting myself as deep as I can. Breathing heavy, sweaty, and lightheaded, I drop my forehead to her shoulder.
“I really like this dress,” she whispers, and my body starts to shake as I laugh.
“But I like that sound more.” I lean back just enough to look at her, and her eyes wander over my face. “Happy?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.” The quiet words spoken like a confession fill up whatever emptiness was left inside me. It might have taken some time, but I’m not surprised she made me whole. She filled a void in my life I never realized was there and gave me a sense of contentment no amount of money could ever buy.