Chapter 32
Iris
After we disembark from the private plane in LA—how is this my life?—Roman and I walk across the tarmac with Maverick between us and Roman’s parents trailing behind.
“Mommyyyy!” Maverick shrieks. He breaks free of our hands and runs to the most spectacularly gorgeous woman I’ve ever beheld in my life.
A woman so stunningly beautiful, I’m not surprised Roman threw caution to the wind and had unprotected sex with her.
Who wouldn’t take that gamble, when there was a possibility of creating a kid blessed with half this woman’s stunning genes?
Insecurity floods me in a torrent. Roman and I had amazing sex in Kauai, but that feels like a lifetime ago, given that we didn’t sleep together in Orchard Blossom.
At some point during this past week, I decided that was because Roman had made some romantic decision to court me.
But now, suddenly, this woman’s jaw-dropping beauty is making me wonder if Roman’s physical attraction to me has waned since Hawaii.
Were all those internet trolls right? Was Roman “bottom-feeding” when he bothered with me in Kauai?
Has he invited me to stay with him for a spell in LA to see if we might recapture some of our old physical chemistry?
“Hey, Vanessa,” Roman says warmly. He gives the woman a brief side hug before gesturing to me. “This is my girlfriend, Iris. Iris, this is Maverick’s mother, Vanessa, and her husband, Jay.”
There it is again.
The same word he used with Brandon yesterday.
Girlfriend.
I exchange pleasantries with Vanessa and her husband, before Vanessa shocks me by gushing, “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Iris.
During every FaceTime call this week, Mavvy talked about all the fun he was having with ‘Irish.’ Thank you especially for taking him horseback riding. He was over the moon about it.”
I’m thrilled and relieved. Of all the ways this first encounter could have gone down, this is best-case scenario. “I’ve loved every minute with Maverick,” I reply. “He’s so sweet. You’ve done a great job with him.”
With a smile, Vanessa runs her manicured fingers through her son’s soft, lush hair. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from a preschool teacher.”
I’m shocked. Roman told me he’s on great terms with his baby momma, but even so, I was petrified to meet Vanessa today—terrified she might not like or trust me enough to let me continue interacting with her son. But now, I can plainly see my worst fears aren’t going to materialize.
Vanessa’s husband asks me a question and we chat briefly, but long enough for me to realize he’s every bit as amiable and welcoming as his wife.
As we’re talking, Roman’s parents reach the group, and another round of warm greetings ensues.
There’s no tension, I notice, as cheeks are kissed and words exchanged.
No secret side-eyes or stilted conversations. Only love and respect. I can feel it.
Roman squats down in front of his son. “Bye for now, buddy. I’ll see you in a couple weeks at my new house. You want to know the best part? I’m gonna pick you up in my car at your house and drive you to mine. No more hotels. No more airplanes. We live in the same city now.”
Maverick hugs Roman. “I love you, Daddy.”
Roman chokes up. “I love you, too, buddy. I’ve had the best time with you.”
When Maverick leaves his father’s embrace, he beelines to me. “Bye, Irish.”
A lump rises in my throat. “Bye, Mavvy. I had fun with you this week.”
Vanessa prompts, “Thank Iris for all the fun stuff she arranged for you, honey. She went above and beyond for you.”
“Tank you, Irish.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m sure I had even more fun than you did.”
Maverick squeezes my legs. “I love you,” he says out of nowhere, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to say—and then, as my heart explodes and my eyes prick with tears, he leaves me in the dust and traipses off to his grandparents next.
“I love you, too, Mav,” I choke out, my voice cracking with emotion. “So, so much.”
I look at Roman, smiling through tears, and he looks every bit as emotional as I feel.
There’s nothing I want more than to say those same three little words to Roman: “I love you.” But, obviously, I can’t say them first. Certainly not when I don’t know if Roman will say them back.
For crying out loud, I don’t even know if Roman will invite me to stay with him in LA longer than two short weeks.
“Are you okay, baby?” Roman asks, glancing from the highway through his windshield to me.
“Hmm?”
He adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. “You seem awfully quiet over there.”
We’re riding in Roman’s squeaky-clean fancy sports car, driving from the airport to his brand-new digs in Malibu, the affluent, oceanfront city Roman selected as his new home base in California.
“I’m just tired,” I reply with a tight smile.
“I was too excited about coming here today to fall asleep last night.” It’s the truth, but not the full truth.
I am tired, yes—but Vanessa is the main reason I’ve been so quiet during this drive.
She was so freaking beautiful, I could have stared at her for days in a trance.
Also, so warm and vivacious, I’d want to be her good friend, if we’d met under different circumstances.
Why didn’t it work out with Vanessa and Roman?
I can’t understand it, especially when I think about Maverick being a big reason to give a romantic relationship a shot.
I look out the window at the passing cars on the freeway and try to wrangle my spiraling thoughts.
I knew Maverick’s mother would be a supernatural beauty, given how gorgeous Maverick is, but I didn’t expect her to be that beautiful.
And certainly not that sweet. My brief encounter with Vanessa made me realize in a visceral way that Roman truly can have literally any woman he wants.
So, naturally, I’m now wondering how long I can reasonably expect Roman to remain interested in me, especially when he’s about to be stretched to the max in every direction.
Oh, God, I don’t even want to think about the horrible, mean, clickbait headlines if my romance with Roman doesn’t pan out after my two-week stay in California.
By now, the world has seen multiple photos of Roman and me together, both in Hawaii and Orchard Blossom.
If those sightings suddenly dry up, and if Roman is suddenly seen with a new, far more beautiful woman on his arm, the internet will be brutal toward me.
In fact, I’m sure the day the Runaway Bride gets dumped by Roman “Ribbed for Her Pleasure” Maguire will practically become a national holiday for my haters. A reason to pop champagne.
The navigation voice on Roman’s phone draws me from my wandering thoughts.
“Turn right,” the robot lady commands.
When Roman follows her instructions, he turns into a long driveway with a stunning two-story oceanfront house at the end of it.
“This is your house?” I breathe out.
“You like it?”
“Of course. It’s spectacular. I can see why you picked it.
” In Orchard Blossom, Roman called his new digs in Malibu his “dream house,” but that’s all he said about it.
But now I can see that Roman’s dream house is a cliffside, oceanfront mansion with sleek, modern lines that could easily pass for a small, boutique hotel.
“Why so big?” I ask with a laugh.
Roman audibly shrugs as he parks his car at the end of the driveway. “This is gonna be my home for a long time. Maybe even forever. So, I figured I should get a place that’s big enough to host my entire extended family on holidays.”
Roman opens his car door, so I do the same on my side.
“Welcome home, Rome,” a guy in a suit says, greeting us as we pile out of Roman’s low-slung car.
“Hey, Mac. This is my girlfriend, Iris. Iris, this is Mac, my head of security.”
Roman’s got a head of security? “Nice to meet you, Mac.”
“Likewise,” Mac says. “Roman’s told me some wonderful things about you, Iris.”
He has? I look at Roman in surprise. When? What?
“Go on in,” Mac says to Roman. “I’ll get the bags and park the car in the garage for you, boss.”
“Thanks. Is Cameron still here?”
“He just left. He said he’ll come back tomorrow to say hi and meet Iris.”
“Perfect. And Leslie?”
“She left, too. But not before stocking the fridge and pantry. She said she made a couple of your favorite meals—high protein, of course—in case you arrived hungry enough to eat a team of horses.”
Roman chuckles. “She knows me well.” He takes my hand. “Leslie is my private chef. Wait till you taste her food. It’s even better than my mother’s cooking, but don’t you dare tell her I said that, or I’ll deny it.”
I didn’t realize Roman has a team of people taking care of him in his real life.
In Hawaii, he was humble and capable—always making cocktails and sandwiches for us and then running off to the market when we ran low on supplies.
In Orchard Blossom, too, Roman seemed like a totally normal person.
I guess it makes sense for Roman to delegate basic stuff in his daily life, though, given the intense demands on his time during the football season.
He’s a superstar in his real life, after all. I keep forgetting that.
“It’s too bad you’re seeing the house for the first time at dusk,” Roman says as we approach his front door. “In full sunlight, the ocean views are spectacular.”
Is Roman nervous? “I’ll see the views in all their glory tomorrow.”
Roman takes a deep breath before opening his front door and inviting me inside. “Welcome, Iris,” he says, his voice brimming with excitement and nerves. “I hope you love it.”