Chapter 10
Ten
I step over the threshold and peer around the small front room.
“I’ve just moved in,” Roman says. He’s watching me as if waiting for my reaction. “I couldn’t until I had approval from my coach. I told my coach about us right after the game—well, after we spoke.” He swallows, his expression nervous.
There are boxes everywhere. No doubt the man moved in today—just like me. “I remember you saying that.”
Roman runs a hand over the bristles of his short beard. “Nothing is put away yet.” He is set on stating the obvious. “But that means we can split the space. You can put things where you want them.”
“It’s your house, Roman.” I look past him to the small fireplace. I keep reminding myself, This is exactly what I need. A win. My life isn’t falling to pieces, it’s just changing. And yet, now that I’m here, it doesn’t feel that way. “I’m just staying for … a while.”
“Right. A year? Maybe more?” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow. He’s just as nervous as I am. So, yes, this is strange for everyone involved.
My brow furrows, thinking about what he’s said. I’ve never looked into the details of a green card. And since none of this technically affects my citizenship—
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s okay. We can figure it out together.” Roman nods. “As long as you’re taken care of.”
I clamp my teeth down on my lip, searching the small room again.
I thought this would be the great answer to my many problems, and while I’m supposedly helping Roman solve a problem too, I’m still being dishonest with him.
With his kindness, the guilt of that fact hits me in the gut and doesn’t allow me to enjoy one second of moving day.
But what else can I do, tell him the truth, disappoint him along with my parents?
He’d never marry me then, and he wouldn’t get his cabin.
“I didn’t realize I’d have a roommate when I bought the place. But there’s plenty of space. Don’t worry.”
Roommate. Huh. Have I ever disliked a word more? Probably. I didn’t love it when Joan said fired. Or when my landlord said evicted. Somehow, roommate is now in my top three of most disliked words. I’m not sure why. That’s what Roman and I will be … husband and wife roommates.
“Ah, let me give you a tour.” Roman throws out a hand. “The living room.”
I follow him past more boxes than this space has room for. Then into the tiny kitchen. I’m not sure we’ll have space for a table in here.
“And the kitchen,” he says. “It’s small but functional.
” He hisses. “Again, no dishwasher, but there’s just the two of us.
” He’s still trying to convince me that this little haven he’s purchased is good enough.
When, in all actuality, it’s more than I could ask for.
It’s giving me a home and providing for my needs as I am currently without a paycheck.
“It’s nice,” I tell him.
He tilts his head in a wishy-washy motion. “I know the kitchen isn’t all that impressive, but the porch is.”
“The porch?”
“There’s a back porch right through this door.
” He ambles past three boxes piled up and opens the back door, leading me onto an enclosed porch.
The floor-to-ceiling windows look out to a view of the woods beyond.
“This is the reason I bought this place. When I’m not on a soccer field, this is where I’ll spend every sunset and sunrise. ”
He watches out one of the large windows, a serene smile on his face.
I blink from Roman back to the great outdoors—the moss-covered ground littered with twigs, rocks, and pines that shoot from the ground and tower overhead. “Wow.” It’s as if I’m outside without being outside. Once it snows, this room is going to be magical—and heated. “This is beautiful, Roman.”
“Yeah. It’s my favorite part of the house.”
My heart thumps with his confession.
It’s the Roman I knew as a kid showing up, reminding me that we aren’t strangers. Because Engaged to a Stranger sounds like an awful reality TV show.
I can’t be a part of a cringy reality show. I have a lot of baggage that I’m not ready to unpack. And everyone knows reality TV forces you to confess all your secrets.
“The lighting is great.” I clasp my hands in front of me, nerves rising.
Roman shoves both hands into his pockets. “I’ll show you to your room.”
“Okay.” I push up on the rim of my round glasses, my contacts tucked safely away in my suitcase. I’ll wear them again … one day.
It doesn’t take long to backtrack through the kitchen to the short hallway that leads to two bedrooms and one Jack and Jill bathroom.
“Right or left?” Roman says after walking me through all three rooms.
“Oh, um—” My brow furrows. “I don’t—”
“They are the same size and have the same exact access to the bathroom. I haven’t moved my things in yet.
I thought you could pick.” He’s giving me yet another offering.
One I do not deserve. Lifting his hand, he shakes one finger to the right.
“This bedroom has the same back view of the woods as the porch. And the left has a view of the front woods, including the road and the walkway to the house.”
I hum out in thought. “So … do I want to be warned of visitors coming or not?”
“There will be no visitors.” Roman’s tone is flat and serious. No visitors. That’s not like Roman.
“Okay, then. I’ll take the right.”
Roman leans past me, hand on the knob, opening the door to my room. And with his movement, I breathe him in. He is all musk, pine, and man. And I am woozy.
“Take your time. Figure out where you want things,” he says.
The room is a box with a door to the hall, a door to the bathroom, and a tiny closet. Roman special-ordered furniture for us, including beds, or I wouldn’t have a place to sleep tonight. Everything arrives later today.
He leaves me to look around in peace. He said he’s going to unpack a kitchen box or two while I situate. Really, I think he’s giving me space to think.
But thinking is only making my chest go tight and my breaths short.
Roman doesn’t know what he’s getting into.
Not completely. Marrying him is an answer to all of my failures—no job, no home, no life.
My family won’t see any of that if Roman is literally at my side.
And while the cabin might be officially his, I feel like I’m taking advantage of the sweetest boy I ever knew.
My body starts to tremble with the thought. In sixty seconds, I have gone from calm to calamity. “Roman!” I bellow, then slam my bedroom door open and into the wall, before racing into the doorway of the small kitchen.
Roman’s eyes are wide, and he’s holding a broom like a samurai sword. “Mouse? Racoon? What is it?”
“Why do you want to do this?” I say, my chest heaving with each breath.
His forehead wrinkles with confusion. He isn’t following my panic attack thought process. Which makes sense—I haven’t exactly clued him in.
“Marry me, Roman?” I cry. “Why? And don’t say your cabin. You could have figured that out.”
“I couldn’t,” he says. “I’d help you anyway, Stell. Cabin or not. But the truth is, I could not be in this cabin without you.”
I shake my head, nausea still rising in my gut. “This can’t be fun for you. What about your social life?”
“I don’t have one,” he says.
I scoff. Roman always had a social life. He was everyone else’s social life. “Right.” I let the word drip with sarcasm. “What about girls? You always had a girl—”
“I don’t.” He shrugs.
I blink, my head dizzy and my heart racing.
“But you won’t be able to—at all—not if you’re attached to me.
Maybe marriage isn’t necessary. Because I can’t ruin your whole life.
” Tears prick at my eyes. No matter the mess Roman might be getting me out of or the gift he believes this deal is getting him, it’s still a lie. I can’t derail his entire life.
Roman, calm as the quiet woods outside, crosses his arms and leans against the countertop, studying me. “I think marriage is necessary for a green card. Isn’t that how it works?”
I honestly don’t know how a green card marriage works. I do not need one. I need good news and happy parents.
I pull off my glasses and rub my eyes. Strangely, I think they long for the routine and feel of my contacts. Thinking, I pinch my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
Roman walks the few steps over to me. He pulls my hand down from my face and dips his head, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Stell, it’s going to be okay.”
I sniff and hold back my tears. “Not if I wreck your future.”
“You aren’t wrecking anything.” He grins like he did when we were kids. “I mean, as long as you keep me out of jail.”
I’m not worried about jail. I’m worried that I’m intruding on his life while only serving myself. “Be serious. How important is this cabin to you?”
He studies me. There’s a twitch in his eye that tells me he’s wrestling with his answer. “I was willing to alter the way I play for it. My coach said he’d talk to the owner about changing the housing portion of my contract if I could go without a card for four games.”
I narrow my gaze. Willing to alter his game? That doesn’t sound like Roman. This place must be important to him.
“Yeah—well, we both know that didn’t work out.”
“You need this?” I ask. Because I can’t be so wholly selfish. Not with Roman.
“You haven’t been around me in a while. So, I can understand that you may not get it.” He sighs. “But I do. I need it.”
I exhale, breathing a tiny bit easier. He wouldn’t marry me if he knew the truth, and according to Roman, without me, he’d never get this place.
“What about women?” I say, still not quite convinced. “You always had a girlfriend, Roman. We both know it.”
“Well, I don’t. I haven’t in a while. And I don’t plan to. So—don’t worry about that. Okay?” His hand cups my cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping beneath my eye.
I bite my lip. I am a mess. A hot mess express. But none of that is his problem. “You don’t have to save me, Roman.”
His eyes squint, taking me in. The right corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest of smiles. “What if I want to save you?”