23. Waverly
CHAPTER 23
WAVERLY
Fortunate:Another moment was kicked off my bucket list by Roman.
Unfortunate:I fear now that the bucket list by forty has been filled—except for the reading books part as I don’t need him to help with that—he’ll realize there’s no reason to keep coming around.
Harold does not look happy.
“Where were you?” He looks past Roman and finds me. And the awkward human that I am—I wave. “Well, it’s pretty obvious where you were, but this was not the morning to do… that .”
Oof.
Harold wipes his hands over his face. “Rinaldi canceled the trip because you didn’t answer your phone to sign off on the flight.” Both Huxley men look at me at the same time. Awkward. “You didn’t…did you?”
Roman pushes his dad out into the hall and closes the door firmly behind him.
No. He didn’t. I fell asleep before he had a chance to even consider that… but even if I had stayed awake, he wouldn’t because I don’t think that I could have. Somehow Patrick still has a hold on me. Not because I’m still in love with him. I’ll always love him, but he’s the past. I’m allowed to move on. I can be happy, damnit. I couldn’t because I’m fucking scared. Roman’s probably a beast in bed. All of those past sexual experiences he had that Patrick felt the need to tell me about—I feel inadequate. I’ve slept with men, but none of them ever pulled out the wild in me. Plus, these days, if I sneeze with my head even slightly turned, I have to go to the chiropractor to get adjusted.
I pick up my phone and dial the one person I knew who would have all the answers. And even if she didn’t have the answers, she always had my back.
“Hey, sunshine! How’s Italy?” Victoria’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.
“I’d be better if you were here, Victoria. Seriously. I didn’t know others outside of the Huxley clan were allowed to come because I would’ve invited you.” There would be a lot less suffering in Lena’s presence.
“I was invited, but I turned it down. Roman wanted me to surprise you, but I refused?—”
I cut her off. She refused ? “What the hell? Why would you refuse?”
“It’s just his parents and the two of you. Parents always do that thing where they go off and do their own thing, leaving you and Rome to do whatever. And I hope you do whatever . A lot of whatever , actually.” She giggles.
“I can appreciate that, but Lena’s here, too.”
“Lena…Lena…” she repeats, trying to figure out who I’m talking about.
I let out a breath. “His ex, Victoria!”
“No shit! That’s nuts. But why? Are they together? Oh my GOD! That two-timing, stupid, handsome?—”
“Relax, Rocky. He said they weren’t together. But it’s still… Awkward. I was kind of rude to her during lunch yesterday.”
I should probably apologize to Lena. Now that I’ve slept on it a little, I can see that I should. And especially now that, from the sound of it, she isn’t leaving anytime soon. Oh God… She’s going to know he was in here last night. I mean, he wasn’t in there . Not that I care about what she might think of me. But the poor girl did just proclaim her love for him earlier in the day. I shouldn’t have asked Roman to stay and watch a movie. I should have let them have a conversation.
“Enough about Lena, I want to know about you . Tell me everything!
“There’s really nothing much to tell, Vic.”
“I don’t believe that. There’s got to be something…” I know what she’s asking, but I play dumb.“Like what?”
“You know what! Did you guys boink yet?”
“No, dirty girl. But we did kiss.”
A shriek of gargantuan proportions comes from the other side of the phone. “You’re shitting me! How was it? Was it good? Of course, it was. He has kissable lips. Mmm!”
“It was great. I’ve had some amazing kisses, but…I don’t know…”
“What’s wrong?”
I hesitate to bring it up at all. I know I said I give zero fucks, but it’s hard to just quit caring. I feel like it will take a few weeks to retrain my brain. Twenty-one days it takes to form a new habit. And I very much want Roman Huxley to be my new bad habit.
“Most of me doesn’t care, but the part of me that does reminds me that he’s twenty-four years old. He has his whole life ahead of him. I’m over here, already lived the wild part of life, and as if I’m not a total bore, the thought of leaving my bra on past eight p.m. every night sounds dreadful.”
Victoria cackles. I wait for her to finish and pour her words of wisdom onto me. “First off, you still have your whole life ahead of you, too! You’re only forty. It’s like the new thirty.” I smile. “Second, nobody said you have to wear a bra past eight. If you want to go the rest of your life without one, go for it. It’s what everyone is doing these days anyway. Let those titties fly, babe.”
“That was oddly freeing to hear.” I take a deep breath in, hold it, and release it. “You’re right. I may not be in my twenties, but I’m not decrepit.” I’m forty, naughty, and my field of fucks left is barren.
“That’s the spirit! Now go get your man! And don’t let Lena’s one-million followers on Instagram get in your way. You deserve happiness. We all do.” Victoria is so wise. She’s like the sister I never had.
“Okay, I’m going to go find Roman,” I chirp as I slide a jean skirt up my legs.
I hear her cheering. “Go get him, tiger! Oh, and Waverly?” she says out of breath.
“Yeah?
“Happy birthday, babe. Live your best life over there and tell me all of the nasty details when you get back.”
Tears threaten to shed, but I tuck those bad boys back in. I’m about to go get me some Roman, and hopefully do some of those very nasty things with him.
“Thanks, Vic. Love you.” We hang up and I toss my phone on the bed before I run around the boat like a mad woman looking for him.
I have looked high and low for Roman, his mom, and his dad. Nothing.The only one I find is Lena, unfortunately.
“They took a dingy to shore. Something about a surprise for you,” Lena says from behind me.
Great. They are leaving me on board with a slightly unhinged GenZ’er who knows how to kill me off because she listens to true crime podcasts to relax. Sweet.
“Great. I’m going to make some coffee.” I decide to be nice. “Want one?”
She shakes her head. “No, thanks. Teeth.” She points to her straight white teeth.
“Right.” I smile a closed-mouth smile. I have straight teeth. They may be a little stained from my love of coffee and tea, but there are easy fixes for that these days.
The gurgle of the coffee machine is music to my ears before it’s rudely interrupted. “I know why you hate me.” She followed me?! I glance at the coffee one more time to see if it magically sped up. No such luck. This is not a conversation to have pre-coffee.
“You’re threatened by me.”
“You hold nothing back, do you?” I cock a brow as I search for a mug.
“Top left,” she says with a wide smile. Because she’s obviously been on this yacht before. Roman has had her in his bed hundreds of times. Or maybe thousands. They’re young and were probably still in the ‘screw like bunnies' phase. I gag a little at the thought.
I pull a mug out and grab the oat milk creamer from the fridge. I’m waiting for her to comment on my choice of creamer because it’s not some fancy flavor. I got rid of dairy strictly for breast and gut health, not that I need to share that with her because she’s not old enough to be concerned with those types of things, apparently. Just the sparkle of her pearly whites.
The scent of coffee fills my nostrils before I take a sip, and once it hits my veins, I become otherworldly—full of caffeine, hope, and reachable dreams. If we want to have a decent rest of the trip, we need to squash this. Right now. So I’m channeling my maturity. Go me.
I slide onto a chair across from her and open the can of worms. “Why exactly am I threatened by you, Lena?”
“Because I’m young, famous, no wrinkles...” She counts off each point on her fingers before continuing, “My hair color is natural?—”
I hold my hand up, signaling for her to stop talking. Immediately. “Let me stop you right there, little Lena.”
Her mouth falls open.
“Uh-uh. You may still have your youth, but that’s so incredibly temporary. Everybody ages and I’m going to do it gracefully. I’m also not going to inject myself with fillers to look younger. I want to look my age. And I have to admit…” I rub my fingers over my face, gently. “...I look pretty damn good for my age. I have maybe a handful of gray hairs, and the reason I dye my hair is because I enjoy having dimension. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the color ‘dishwater blonde’.” It’s a real color, and it's as drab as it comes. I know, because it’s my natural color. I’m not threatened by your fame because it’s not real. Your looks will eventually fade, and you’ll have to get a big girl job once the million followers move on to the next young thing. What will you qualify for then?” I take a deep breath, about to impart some wisdom I doubt, but sincerely hope, that she’ll take to heart, “Aim higher. Influence on the side, but take a law course, or study meteorology or…or whatever floats your pretty little boat. I know you like Roman. Maybe even love him, but don’t let a man define your worth or your future.” My tone softens slightly, and I can barely believe what I’m sharing with her. “I made the mistake of doing that, and it’s taking me a while to get out of the funk I let him put me in. You know what? I let it happen, so it’s my fault for not seeing the signs that I was becoming less of who I wanted to be, and more of what he wanted me to be.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course, you didn’t. Like social media, we only show people what we want them to see. Rarely does anyone see the real shit. We’re constantly seeking validation from anybody but ourselves, and it’s ruining us.” I take a few deep breaths trying not to go all mama bear, which has never happened before.
“My last piece of advice for you is this: why chase a man who doesn’t want you? You’re beautiful. And you’re smart. I can tell…there is a brain in there. Want more for yourself? You need to want more, Lena, because one day you will find a man who will try to lasso the moon for you. But Roman is not that man.”
“I…” she starts and stops.
We sit there quietly before I hear the Huxley’s climb aboard. I could get up and fake a headache, pardon myself from this overwhelming company, but they planned this for me when they could have just let me be alone in my house all week.
“She’s in here,” I hear Harold shout. Lena and I stare at each other, both marinating in the words we’ve just exchanged.
“Happy birthday to you…” he starts singing, and Janine and Roman walk in holding a cake with an embarrassing number of candles. I’m pretty sure there has to be a fire extinguisher somewhere here, just in case.
My eyes leap from one person to the next, all admiring the beautiful work of art in front of me. There are hibiscus decorating the left and right lower corners while an ocean scene is iced on the background.
Funny how the ocean came full circle. What I once loved, I eventually hated—feared, even…and now love again.
Flames dance back and forth over the wicks of the colorful wax, and I see the flickering in Roman’s eyes. Except he isn’t looking at the cake—he’s looking at me.
They all finish singing, even Lena. “Make a wish, Kensi,” Roman whispers, now sitting across from me, and his face turns into a slow, secret smile only I could understand. We kissed. And we’re going to do it again. I don’t need to blow out candles to make a wish. It’s already come true. I’ve wished for Roman Huxley and he’s finally mine.
The room is silent watching the exchange, but I don’t care anymore. I blow out the candles, finding it hard not to smile. Harold, Janine, and Lena cheer, but not Roman. He slowly makes his way next to me, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me into him—and he kisses me. I hear a gasp, and some mumbling before I kiss him back.
Forty is a great year to release every fuck I had to give.