32. Nathan
32 /
nathan
The Fall of the Roman Empire
Roman bends over a petite woman and shouts.
In the commotion, I don’t catch what they’re saying, but I find their body language peculiar. One thing is clear, though—he’s trying to assert his dominance over her like he does with Jeanie.
In vain, I block Jeanie from the scene, hoping this will keep her from being sucked into his lowlife vortex.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Roman abruptly dismisses the woman with a wave of his hand when he spots us.
The blonde cowers behind her green glasses. There seems to be a moment of recognition as she passes, but maybe I’m mistaking it for the embarrassment of her tears. She presses a tissue to her nose and scurries away.
Even though I don’t know her, my chest lifts, and I stare at him. Roman is such a fucking bully. Someone seriously needs to pummel his ass, and I’m starting to think that someone might be me. The only reason I haven’t is because of Jeanie .
“What was that about?” Jeanie asks him.
“A stupid wedding florist,” he says.
From working at his shop, I have clear memories of his ruthless behavior with vendors. At least twice, the stress he caused landed our produce guy in the hospital.
“All that over flowers?” Jeanie asks.
“Maybe you should stop worrying about me and start worrying about your son.” Roman flips the drama onto Jeanie.
My hand clenches. Dex is always her son when he’s up to something Roman doesn’t like, which seems to be often and for no clear reason. I twine Jeanie’s hand in mine to let her know I’m here for her. Though, internally, I’m considering if anyone would miss Roman if he disappeared.
Outside in the blinding sunshine, I drop my sunglasses over my eyes and trace the direction of Roman’s annoyed gaze. Dex sits on a lounge chair with no fewer than ten girls crowding him. He’s talking animatedly while some giggle. Others have stars in their eyes.
Though I’m surprised by this development, I spy nothing wrong. If anything, a sense of pride fills me. It appears Dex took my life lessons to heart.
But then I spot Freddie. He’s Frenching a girl at the snack stand. His roaming hands are quickly making a run toward second base in broad daylight. The little dirtbag has too much game.
“What kind of advice did you give the boys, exactly?” Jeanie turns to me with renewed interest in the subject matter .
“ You did this?” Roman moves in.
“I told Dex he has a lot going for him. Girls love a domestic god, and he’s got that in spades.” I hold up my palms in defense. “But as far as Freddie goes ...”
I shake my head like he’s a lost cause. In truth, I give him mad props. No matter how sleazy, the kid does have a certain swagger.
“Freddie is Freddie, but Dex?” Jeanie contemplates further, and then adds, “I suppose nothing beats a man who loves to cook, clean, and make you designer clothes.”
“He only needed a little positive reinforcement,” I say with a nod.
Roman clenches his teeth. “I don’t like it.”
My hackles rise again.
Isn’t this what Roman wanted? For Dex not to turn into some loner kid with zero social skills? But then I suspect Roman’s never been the kind of father Dex needed. Roman seems to confuse criticism for communication.
All that aside, my gut tells me this has more to do with the fact that I gave Dex the advice to make the desired changes, and not Roman. He’s threatened by me.
A slow smile breaches my expression as I consider this unplanned one-up maneuver. Not that being better than Roman is hard. He makes winning easy. With what’s changed with Jeanie and me, I’m not even sure I view this as revenge anymore.
My smugness fades when Roman marches in Dex’s direction. It’s clear he’s on a mission to disrupt his progress.
Scratch my earlier thought. I’m still in revenge mode because he’s still an asshole who needs to be stopped. Like right now.
I only make it two steps before Jeanie bumps me out of the way and sprints in Roman’s direction with a crazed determination.
“Roman!” she screams. Her newly manicured claws rise, poised for attack.
Roman turns the moment she launches at him. Her body slams into his and Roman cries out. They hang in midair for a comedic second before tilting sideways and crashing onto the surface of the pool. A massive splash awakens several passed-out sunbathers. People scream. Jeanie and Roman struggle underwater.
I watch Jeanie in awe. She pummeled his ass. Brav-the-fuck-o . Even though I shouldn’t, I clap.
When the two surface, Jeanie delivers an enraged warning. The gist is, “Don’t mess with my son .”
Roman appears horrified. Like he didn’t realize Jeanie possessed this amount of anger for him or fierceness to protect her kid.
My heart fills to the brim. Maybe my fake life coaching worked for Dex and Jeanie.
Sure, in the real world, talking things out is preferred. It would avoid an orange jumpsuit and jail time. But, hey, I never promised I was legit or ethical. What I am is damn proud. Jeanie stood up for her family. Without a doubt, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed .
Jeanie paddles to the edge of the pool, dunks her head under the water, and surfaces with slicked-back hair. In the sun-sparkling ripples, she’s a bewitching siren.
Meanwhile, Roman struggles like a cockroach trying to swim. He grabs a pool noodle and slips under the surface, taking in a mouthful of water. The jackass doesn’t realize he can just stand up. He’s in three feet of water. Unfortunately, a lifeguard comes to his rescue.
I meet Jeanie at the pool’s edge. She clasps my hand, and I lift her onto the deck with a loud swoosh. Water drips over her sumptuous body, making her cute sundress see-through. Hard nipples direct their attention to me. Because other men are staring at her enticing assets, I turn possessive.
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” I say low as I wrap her in a beach towel.
She raises a brow. “Who says you aren’t next?”
“On second thought, you can body-slam me anytime,” I whisper in her ear.