Chapter 20
ROMAN
I shouldn’t be doing this.
But as soon as I hear the front door close behind her—heels clicking, her perfume still lingering in the air—I know I’m not just going to sit here and wait.
I text Amanda.
Can you take Poppy for a few hours?
Ava’s out. I just need time to clear my head.
She doesn’t ask questions. Just says Of course , and ten minutes later, I’m dropping our daughter off at their place. Poppy’s half-asleep in her car seat, thumb in her mouth, curls falling into her eyes.
“Thanks for this,” I say to Amanda as she purses her lips together, another woman who detests me.
“It’s fine, she can stay overnight. She’s sleepy.” Her eyes tell me everything.
You’re a bastard. You blew it .
Yeah, I know. But tonight, I’m getting my wife back.
For both me and Poppy.
I kiss her forehead and say, “Daddy loves you.” Then I drive away.
I followed Ava’s location. I didn’t realise she still had hers turned on, and it was sickening to see her going to a restaurant looking like that to meet a man who isn’t me .
But at least I know where she is. I watch the little blue dot hover over a restaurant downtown and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
The restaurant’s one of those cozy, romantic places downtown. Ava is used to better, I think with a smug smile, but then remember she doesn’t want me or anything I can offer her anymore. His cheap restaurant will do her just fine, I’m sure.
But she fucking deserves the best.
And there she is. My heart fucking leaps, my fingers uncurling as I imagine pushing her hair over her shoulder, dropping my lips to her deliciously scented collarbone as she shivers beneath me.
Fuck, I miss her so much.
She’s in that dress too. She walked out like a fucking vision—tight red fabric over every curve that used to be mine. And now she’s letting some guy look at her like she’s dessert.
She’s sitting across from him . Adam .
I’ve seen photos of him—his fucking online profile in that article where he was listed as one of LA’s top surgeons. But in person, he’s even more unbearable. He’s too polished. The kind of guy who probably never loses control, never fucks up the one good thing in his life.
He doesn’t deserve her smile.
Especially not the one she’s giving him now. Not the little tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eyes. That was mine. I put that look on her face once. And now it’s like I’m watching a stranger, someone who’s moving on without me.
Adam—he’s eating it up. His eyes glued to her mouth like he’s already thinking about what else she can do with it.
I clench my fists. My pulse is a fucking hammer. I want to rip the table out from between them and remind her who the fuck she belongs to.
But I wait.
Watching until they stand, his hand on the small of her back as he guides her out of the restaurant—under the glow of those string lights. Until I see his hands on her waist, until I see her tilt her head up—and kiss him.
What. The. Fuck.
She’s fucking kissing him like she means it. Like he’s everything—and I never existed.
My vision goes black. I don’t remember crossing the street. I don’t remember breathing. All I know is the thunder in my chest and the blood roaring in my ears.
I reach them in seconds.
“Ava.” My voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. It belongs to a feral beast, his mouth dripping with rage.
She freezes, lips still parted, pressed up against him like she’s meant to be there.
Her eyes lock with mine, her lips all swollen and full from kissing him.
Then, she fucking smiles.
At me.
Adam turns, confused. “You must be Roman?” He glances at me nervously before he offers his hand, like I’m going to fucking shake it and say, Hey, thanks for trying to fuck my wife!
I grab him by the collar, slamming him back against the brick wall before anyone can react.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarl, my face inches from his.
“Get off me?—”
“She’s my wife!” I shove him again. “Mine! And you’re fucking touching her like you’ve got any fucking right—” I slam my fist into his face, enjoying the way his eyes open wide, like he’s never taken a punch in his fucking life.
He better get used to them.
He slumps against the wall, holding a trembling hand to his face as he glares up at me.
“Roman!” Ava yells, pulling at my arm, her voice sharp. “Stop it! Stop !”
I kick Adam in the ribs, and he groans, before I step back. My hands are shaking, adrenaline surging so hard I feel sick.
“Keep your fucking hands off my wife,” I tell him before moving closer—because fuck, I’m not done with this slick prick.
Ava practically hangs from my arm, her nails digging into my face as she turns my head towards hers, her eyes blazing.
“You fucking kissed him?” I hiss at her. “You really kissed him?”
She glares at me, fire in her eyes. “Are you fucking insane ? I’m on a date , Roman!” She shoves me in my chest before leaning down to the piece of shit stumbling to his feet. “Adam, I’m so sorry.”
Adam waves her away as he rises to his feet, staring at me like I’m the one kissing married women.
“You blew it, pal. Ava is free to do whatever she pleases.”
This motherfucker ? —
“Adam is right, Roman,” Ava seethes, glancing around at the crowd gathered around us. “It’s over between us.”
She sounds so fucking cold…
“No, Ava! This—this is you trying to hurt me.”
“No, Roman. This is me trying to live without you.” Her voice shakes. “This is me trying to feel like I still fucking matter.”
“I’m not letting you do this,” I state, chest heaving. “I’m not letting you fall for someone else. Not while I’m still breathing.”
She laughs—cold and heartbroken. “You don’t get to ‘let me’ do anything anymore.”
Adam steps forward, rubbing his jaw. “Maybe you should go?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap.
He stares at me, then looks at Ava. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assures, brushing her dress down, like she’s trying to wipe me off her.
The silence between us is fucking radioactive.
She straightens, chin lifted. “If you ever touch him again, I’ll press charges.”
Well, fuck.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you do. If any man touches my fucking wife, they get to meet my fist. End of.”
Ava stares at me. “Roman, do me a favour and fucking divorce me because I don’t want to be your wife anymore.”
My heart fucking cracks. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, with string lights above us and strangers pretending they’re not watching.
I’m losing her.
“No,” I whisper, more to myself than to her. “I can’t.”
“Adam, I’m so sorry about this.” Ava turns to hold his face, but I move forward, and she stops, her hand in mid-air.
I stare at Adam who is watching me with an expression I don’t fucking like.
Don’t fucking touch her. Don’t you fucking dare.
“I understand if you don’t want to see me again,” Ava tells him, shooting me a look of disgust.
You better not fucking say anything, punk.
“It’s too much for me, all of this. Maybe call me when you’ve ditched the dumb jock.” Adam gives her a wink that has me jumping on the fucker, my fists raining down on him.
“ Roman !” Ava screams, but I don't stop.
The fucking nerve of this cunt!
“She’s my fucking wife!” I roar, dragging him nose to nose with me as I tell him again. “Touch her or see her again, and I’ll fucking snap every finger you have before breaking every bone in your body.”
“Don’t blame me; if you wouldn’t have fucked some cheap skank, she’d still be yours! You’re done, man!” Adam yells, trying to shove me off him.
But I see red. I slam him back against the wall again, fist cocked—when a pair of arms yanks me backward.
“Whoa, man, that’s enough!” someone shouts.
Another guy grabs my other arm. Two of them. One in a suit, the other with rolled-up sleeves and a panicked look. They haul me back as Adam coughs, slumped on the sidewalk, his shirt collar ripped.
“Let me go!” I thrash, my arms swinging wide as I lunge toward him again. “You think you can touch my wife and walk away?”
“Roman!” Ava’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and guttural. “You’re going to get arrested!”
A third guy steps in front of Adam now, shielding him. “Back off! You’re out of control!”
I’m breathing hard, chest heaving, body thrumming with violence as the two men hold me back. Ava is seething, a glare of disbelief directed my way while she kneels beside him, cupping his face, her soft hands on his cheeks.
My Ava. Touching him.
I will fucking kill him.
“Are you done?” one of the men snarls in my ear. “Do you want the cops here? Huh? Do you want your daughter seeing this shit on the news?”
My head snaps around at the mention of Poppy. I shove the men back, and they hold up their hands.
Adam gets to his feet slowly, his lip split and his cheek already swelling. He wipes blood from his mouth and glares at me.
“You need help,” he spits. “Serious fucking help.”
Ava stands too, between us now, her chest rising and falling fast, her eyes blazing with something worse than hate—disappointment.
“You're not the man I married,” she whispers.
I swallow hard, broken and breathless.
Ava turns to me, shaking her head in disbelief before crossing her arms over her chest. “This is going to be all over the news tomorrow. I hope you’re happy. I’m going to our lawyer first thing.”
Then she strides past me.
I’m not just losing her.
I’ve already lost her.