21. Waverly
CHAPTER 21
WAVERLY
Fortunate:I found fresh grapes in the fridge. They were so fresh; I ate almost the whole bag.
Unfortunate:I don’t recommend that anyone eat almost a whole bag of grapes. My stomach aches!
I know I have no right to feel so pissed, but this girl is really starting to push my buttons.
“I love Roman. He’s it for me. And he wanted me here. I was invited. Just like you.” Lena’s lips purse as she cocks a brow, as if she’s challenging me to a verbal duel. Something I’m just not up for thanks to being the ripe age of forty in a few hours.
Zero fucks.
I watch her eyes dart to Harold and Janine, but to no avail, she’s left to fend for herself.
“ You were invited by Janine, and I was invited because it’s my birthday.” My voice rises at the end, “It’s time away with family.” I hate this feeling inside of me. I’d love to admit I was petty as a younger woman, but that’s just not the case. Something about Lena trying to dig her claws into Roman is causing me to go feral.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t come all this way for you . I came for Roman. Ever since you showed up at his house unannounced, he didn’t shut up about you after you left.” Lena throws her hand as if she’s pushing the idea away.“Acting like his aunt. Pffft,” she continues.
Janine drops her fork and it chimes off the plate, startling me.
“I never acted like anyone. You insisted I was his aunt, wouldn’t let me get a word in…”
“I wasn’t going to let some old lady come in and take one of the few men of my generation who has manners, actually respects a woman, and wants a committed relationship,” Lena snarls. Her lip curls as she spews all of these things that Patrick told me Roman is not.
I pause at her words. I can’t do this. I’m so sick of fighting over men who don’t fight for me. I may not care what anyone thinks of me, especially when I’m out in the world living my life unapologetically. But not when it comes to Roman. I worry. Not about the age gap. Okay, a little about the age gap. More of trying so hard to be perfect for a man who stripped me of everything I was as a person.
An old lady? That was the exact label I’ve been trying to avoid. Alas, it’s happened, and I swallow the lump in my throat trying to choke back the tears that are threatening to break free in front of everyone.
Roman clears his throat from beside me. “I had no idea you felt this way, Lena.”
“You know what?” I stand and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry…to all of you. And Lena. I’m just… still figuring my stuff out. Excuse me.”
"Kensi, wait!"
I continue to walk away and don't turn back. I'm done with this shit. Done with the pitying glances from my ex-fiancé’s parents. Done with the abuse from a girl I couldn't give a tiny rat's ass about. Done with the mixed signals from this boy I shouldn't even be interested in. I'm just done.
Two hours. I heard them come back, him murmuring, her giggling, as they headed into his — their room. They’ve been in there, directly across the hall from me—four feet—for two hours . I’m trying not to care. ‘Try’ being the operative word here. My hands are trembling, and my heart is banging against my rib cage. I care. I don’t want to, but I care. And I’m hurt. He didn’t even defend me back there. I mean, why should he? It’s not like we’re together. But I thought we had something… How wrong I was .
My body is begging me to take my ear away from my door and just knock on his.
But I heard her expression of love. I saw his face.
If they’re back together, so be it.
If they’re screwing, I can move on. Not that there’s even anything to move on from. All we’ve had are a few brief, but charged, run-ins with inexplicable static sparking every time he’s too close.
They’ve got a history. And probably more than just sparks between them…
I’m wasting this trip sitting here, avoiding Lena, and worrying about what everyone else thinks of me. Hell, this trip was originally planned for me. So why should I be the one tiptoeing around?
“That’s it.” I slip on my favorite lavender-colored bikini and finally open my door. I pause briefly and stare at Roman’s, like somehow, he’ll magically know I’m outside and open the door. Of course he doesn’t. There isn’t some magical connection between us. There isn’t some extraordinary pull.
But there are a couple of hours of decent sun left. “It’s time to get some D.”
At least the only D that doesn’t hurt in the end unless you get burned.
My skin tingles with the aftersun spray I got from the vegan store back in California. A mix of coconut and mango lines the room, making it feel like it’s actually a vacation. Charging a decent hit of dopamine. I take a deep inhale, finally feeling a sense of calm since I’ve stepped foot on this yacht. This is what Tom was talking about. Just be. Go with the flow.
It’s glorious.
I finally force myself go inside to shower when a gentle knock sounds at the door. “Come in.” I don’t know why I didn’t pretend to be asleep. There are only five of us here aside from the crew, and honestly, the only person I would want to talk to right now is Harold. A wise man who doesn’t give a rat's hiney about how his words affect others. It’s like his filter is unfiltered.
The door slowly opens, and Roman’s smiling face appears. Damn, he’s handsome. And as much as I don’t want to see him, I’m also really glad he’s here. But not glad enough to show it. “What do you want, Rome?”
He steps in. Uninvited. One step. Then another. Then one more, not taking his eyes off me like a panther on the Discovery Channel, stalking its prey. The tension is palpable, except neither of us is willing to make the first move.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, and I hold up my hand and close my eyes.
“Which part? The lunch or the ignoring me during it?”
“I—what…?” The look of confusion on Roman’s face tells me I’m being unreasonable. And to be fair, perhaps that was a little uncalled for…
I’m too tired to be mad.
“I know it’s not fair for me to blame you for what went down at that table. And I shouldn’t have called Lena out like that. But it’s just the way she was talking about you and reminiscing; it made me feel…” I pause, trying to carefully select the right word.
“Jealous?” His lips tilt up in a sexy smirk. “You know I like it when you get jealous, Kensi.”
“Well, I’m not sorry.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, driving the point home. Or hoping I am.
“Good. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes fall to my lips.
Still at a safe distance—from what, I don’t know exactly—I decide to back up a little bit farther, just in case, knocking into a small wooden desk. “Is Lena okay?” I ask, fishing for details on what went on in that room, not because I care to know the answer. But I’m not feeling this petty teenager energy. This isn’t me. So it’s time to switch it up. Not give a shit. Remember who I am. No fucks given. Just be .
“You know what? I actually don’t care how she is. She comes off as this sweet young girl, but she has some serious manipulative tendencies.”
“So, ask what you really want to ask, Waverly.” His voice is low and gravelly.
My eyes narrow briefly before I stand a little taller and channel my new energy. “Are you back together?”
“No.” He steps toward me.
“I find it hard to believe you guys spent the rest of the day together with nothing happening.”
“Now that’s a different question.” He smirks. And I have a sudden urge to smack him in that smug mouth. It may soon be my only defense as he closes the distance between us. “Like I’ve said before, we’re over for good. I have a friend coming to pick her up in the morning. I just have to be on the helipad to sign off on the flight.” Now that feels good. It’s like a weight has lifted, a weight I didn’t even know was there.
“Like a pirate friend?” I’m able to joke, and he laughs. His laugh makes me melt.
“Like a private helicopter. My dad’s psyched they finally get to use that helipad my mom fought him over.”
His hand finds my cheek and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes, as he whispers, “I never want you to feel insecure when it comes to me. I want you to feel fulfilled—like you’re enough. Because you are enough”Roman glances briefly at his watch before smiling back at me.
“Would you come with me for a second?” I look at his extended hand and allow my eyes to roam over the sculpted forearm cut off by his rolled-up sleeve. I’d go anywhere with those hands. Or let them go anywhere…
I meet his gaze and nod. “Of course.”
I take his outstretched hand, and he squeezes mine gently before tugging at me. “Where are you taking me, Rome? Are you finally sick of me? Are you going to toss me overboard?”
The irony of it all makes me chuckle.
“One death by sea is enough for now, Kensi. You’ll see,” he says, leading me around the covered, second-floor deck out to the bow of the boat. He pulls a remote from his pocket and points it at a window, and “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers starts playing.
As soon as we step out into the night air, drops of rain hit me. “What’s going on?” I laugh.
Still holding my hand, he spins me slowly to face him. His face is dimly lit by the lights from the shoreline, but he looks so serious, his dark hair getting soaked from the rain, sticking to his forehead. He grabs both of my hands. My heart dances at how close we are.
“I know it’s been a while, Waverly,” he pauses as light music plays in the background.
I smile. “I love this song.”
“Dance with me?” Raindrops run off his eyelashes as his big bright eyes stare into mine.
Rain starts falling harder, yet it slowly fades into the background. This moment is everything. “Yes,” I whisper.
Before we get too into it, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hang on. Before we start…” He holds it up and we both smile as he takes a picture. Another bucket list item checked off thanks to him.
Once he tucks his phone away, his hands fall to my hips, and I wrap my hands around his neck. I want to feel him closer. I want to know what it’s like to be touched by him. To be kissed by him.
I close my eyes, and sway to this beautiful song with a man who has done everything to pull me out of the funk I’ve been in for the past year or so. Just when I thought I was falling apart, he took his time with me. He’s had unending patience and not fallen short. He’s made me feel again. I felt needed, wanted, enjoyed, and desired for the first time in years. I wasn’t just there as an accessory, but as an equal.
The smell of ocean water, rain, and Roman’s cologne floods my senses. It’s creating an addictive scent. I take a deep breath in and rest my head against his chest. Maybe I was truly never supposed to be with Patrick. Maybe that night at the bar when I met him, I was actually supposed to meet Roman. Age difference be damned.
“Waverly,” he uses my full name again and I look up at him. He looks flustered. And I can feel his heart beating hard; I can feel it matching pace with mine.
“Why didn’t you say goodbye?”
He pulls his brows inward and shakes his head. “What do you mean? When?”
“The night before you disappeared out of my life for over two years. Why…” I trail off, wondering why I brought it up at all.
“I wanted to. Hell, Kensi…I was in big trouble with you.” His grip is firm, still holding me against him. His gaze feels like a thousand suns heating me. Priming me for what he’s about to say. “I knew if I told you why I had to dip out of your life, you’d beg me to stay…and… I would have ended up kissing you. I would have ruined you…and what you had with my brother.”
We freeze.
“Kissing me,” she whispers. “How would you have ruined me? I was a big girl.”
He leans his against mine. “By loving you properly.”
“You…loved me?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” he laughs out nervously. We start rocking back and forth to the music. “I couldn’t do that to you…or my brother. But fuck, Kensi, did I want to kiss you so fucking bad.” Roman allows his head to fall next to mine and I’m narrow-eyed, blinking rapidly into the stormy sky. He turns so his lips are resting near my hair. “I wanted to do so much more than kiss you.”
What if he did kiss me that night? Would I have kissed him back? That would have created quite a domino effect. But it pains me to say I think I would have been happier if he did.
Roman stands straight again, breathing deeply before his eyes bounce from mine and drop to my mouth. Do it . I give him silent approval by allowing my gaze to fall to his parted lips.
“You were right, Rome.”
“Right about what?” His voice is raspy and low. Like he knows I’m about to cross a line—and I’m pulling him with me.
“I did know that you loved me. You never said it, but I knew.”
He brings his head down so our noses rub against each other. Praying he can’t feel my heart thrumming erratically against his chest, I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t allow it.
“Did you ever wonder about me? Think about me?” His lips brush against mine before he pulls back, but just a little.
I drop my head. “God, I sound terrible for saying this.”
He lifts my chin and forces me to look at him. “Say it. Please. I need to hear it.”
“There was a night when I had a bad argument with Patrick. He stormed out…didn’t come home for two or three days. I let my mind wander to what it would have been like with you. How your lips would feel on mine. How it felt to be in your arms. Or what it felt like to be loved by you. Completely and utterly destroyed by you.”
I get whipped out of my spiral as his lips brush mine once more, and it’s almost like I’d imagined it. A rumble of thunder sounds farther out to sea. I should be scared. But the fear never comes.
Instead, I feel alive. With him, I’m reborn.
I don’t think before I bring his bottom lip between mine, and I feel him inhale a shaky breath. He slides his arms along my arms, over my collarbone, and up my neck before he wraps his hand in my hair. He wants to run this kiss, and I’ll let him. A kiss in the rain.
I stop the kiss, pull back just enough to look up at him and smile. “This is better than I thought it would be.” He smiles and pulls me in and closes the last inches between our mouths as fireworks go off behind us. Roman Huxley tastes like an addiction. Like something new, something so bad, yet so good, that I should have been doing this entire time.
I turn around and admire the red and white lightning of the sky for a flash of a second, grinning from ear to ear.
He turns me around to face him as he also wears the brightest smile. I can’t help but mirror him. My happiness in this moment makes me want to scream into the night sky.
“Happy Birthday, Waverly,” he whispers, pushing the wet hair out of my face. A rumble of thunder surrounds us, and the lightning is closer.
I’m not sure if he sees the tear running down my cheek, or if it’s camouflaged by the rain, but a soft sob escapes me. “Thank you.”
I pull my lip between my teeth and grab his hand. Gray eyes fall to where we are joined. I know he feels it, too, that zing when we touch each other. Like there has to be more touching—that things have to progress from friendship. He’s made all the moves so far. So now it’s my turn.
It’s my turn to guide him—straight to my room. The living room is desolate, dimly lit from a small light in the hallway. I lead him into my room, trying to forget it’s Patrick’s, closing the door behind him and locking it. I have no idea what’s about to happen, if anything, but I don’t need an interruption.
“Waverly…” he says, his voice soft.
“Just…give me a minute, Roman. Okay? Just a minute? Please?” I glide my hands up the wet skin of his neck to his jaw and his head falls back, letting out a breath. My fingers find the hem of his soaked shirt, lifting it up before he helps me take it off as it drops at our feet.
Skating my fingers over his pecs, admiring every inch, they dip to his lean torso, and his muscles tense under my touch. His head drops and his gaze follows my caress as his whole body seems to be filled with waiting. Our eyes meet briefly before my lips twitch as I hide a daring grin. He cocks a brow like he’s waiting to see where I’ll touch next. I lick my bottom lip before pulling it into my teeth. Then I feel his stormy eyes boring into mine, watching every movement.
I’m not sure where this boldness is coming from, but I’m letting this version of me take over.
Roman’s arms stay down by his sides, giving me free rein of his body. Freedom to explore, admire. Kiss.
Slowly and seductively, my gaze falls lower. My fingers follow over the ridges and valleys, brushing the ever-so-sexy “V” of his that I’ve only overheard women half my age talking about. I glide my fingers through the cervices and back up again, moving to the patch of hair that travels from his belly button and disappears into his sweats. I lower myself to his abdomen and poke out my tongue, slowly zig-zagging it over the small strip, taking me lower and lower.
“Waverly,” he growls my name—not Kensi, but my real name—deep in the moment, not between old friends, but between a man and a woman who are teetering a fine line. A line that would be impossible to come back from. A line that neither of us wanted there in the first place, if only that night would have ended differently.
I stop at his pants, pulling my lip between my teeth again. My heart is banging against my rib cage as I stand.
I casually rake my eyes back up the skin I just admired, finding his eyes as I hook my fingers on the waistband of his pants. He finally lifts his arms and pulls me into him, tilts his head, studying me.
A dip of his head brings his lips close to mine. They ghost over mine while his breath is heavy and wanting.
“Roman,” I pant. And obligingly, he leans down to kiss me once more, my body aching for his touch.
Eventually, I pull back and allow the moment to catch up to me. “Do you mind if we take a minute?” I ask, admiring his dark hair, messy from the wind and rain. I admire his lips, pink from kissing me like his life depended on it. As much as I’m quickly becoming obsessed with kissing and touching him, and feeling how his body reacts to my wandering hands, I need to take a step back. I need to figure out what this all means.
“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he rasps. “I’m all yours.”