22. Lavinia
TWENTY-TWO
LAVINIA
I can’t believe I’m going to say yes to this harebrained idea because I am. He had me at needing my help and he knows it. Roman might not have been a good friend through the years and I have every reason to tell him to fuck off with that request, except my good girl heart can’t handle it.
“What do you need help with?”
Roman swallows, glancing at Jules and then back to me.
His eyes are clouded as he leans in even closer; I can smell his aftershave.
It’s something spicy and cold that tickles my senses deliciously and makes me want to lean in and sniff him.
There’s a divot between his eyebrows I want to smooth out, though I’m too afraid to touch him.
“I…look, you’re close to the team,” Roman begins. “If I have any hope of getting an in with them and staying here, it’s you.”
The shock of this news actually causes me to freeze, and it takes a minute before my brain starts working again.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” I say quietly. I always assumed he’s happy being traded. I’ve met players like that and being traded isn’t always a bad thing. Roman’s played for a lot of teams, and I can see where it might get tiresome, having to start all over again.
“There’s something else.”
I nod in encouragement. Of course there is.
“I’ve spent my entire career building a reputation as not much of a team player and the only thing I’m known for is fighting on the ice.”
I open my mouth to interrupt, and Roman holds up his hand. “You know it’s true, so there’s no need to placate me. You know what they call me.”
I wince, because I do know what hockey fans call him. The Brutalizer. It’s a stupid and toxic nickname, and they say it proudly while singing Roman’s praises. These fans literally come to the games to watch Roman hit someone.
“Those people and their opinions are irrelevant. That’s not who you are,” I assert.
Roman’s mouth tilts up into a small, humorless smile.
He doesn’t believe me, but it’s the truth.
I know him. I’ve known him my whole life and even if we didn’t talk for some eighteen odd years and I don’t know his favorite color or the way he takes his coffee or what makes him get up in the morning, I know him.
I can’t explain it properly. There’s a part of me which recognizes him, knows him almost as well as I know myself or Jules, even if I don’t know the little details that make him up. I hate that those people have narrowed his worth down to some toxic nickname and now he believes that’s all he is.
“Look, the way I see it, I need to change my reputation and the fastest way to do it is by being seen with someone everyone loves.” He motions towards me. “You wouldn’t marry an asshole, despite your past history. We can help each other.”
Wow. That dig is entirely unnecessary, though it’s well deserved.
“You’re suggesting we stay married to change our reputations? You get to be good, and I get to be… not-good?” I ask.
Roman grins. “I love how you didn’t say ‘bad’.”
“I don’t want to be bad. I want to be less?—”
“Good?” Roman supplies.
I release a heavy sigh. I can’t even explain myself properly. I’ve always done everything everyone has asked of me, and it led me to have a successful career and an unsuccessful personal life.
My most meaningful relationship is with my best friend, and while I’ll happily spend the rest of my life with her, I don’t want to miss the chance of falling in love. I’m not sure I’ve ever given myself the chance to fall in love, not even with Josh. He loved the version of me he wanted.
I want to find the version of me I used to be before everything became too much.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut because I remembered the other thing. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this. My whole platform is built on being the wholesome good girl athlete that I am and that doesn’t correlate well with drunken Las Vegas weddings.”
I started making content to show people that women like me exist, we’re strong and we’re beautiful and we belong in sports as much as men do.
It’s going to be bad enough when news of our drunk escapade gets out.
If they find out it’s a mistake? Suddenly, that’s all anyone is going to talk about.
It’s bad enough trying to get them to remember that I’ve won three Olympic medals. I think of the girls I met last night.
You’re our role model .
How can I be someone’s role model if my life is a mess?
And here’s the thing, I don’t want to be a mess for those girls as much as I don’t want to be a mess for myself.
They’re the personification of the reason I pushed myself so hard to where I am right now.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets.
“It won’t have to be forever,” Roman says, in that same low voice he’s been using, “if that helps. We can go our separate ways at the end of the season.”
His words cause a strange twinge in my chest. I’m not expecting him to say this marriage will be ride or die. I also don’t want him to be so blase about ending this relationship. Where do we go from there?
I glance up at him, and there’s a strange look in his eyes as he waits for my answer. It causes the world to quiet down around me and for one second, I can picture it so clearly.
The months we’ll spend together, pretending to be a couple, only with a deadline hanging over our heads. What happens once it's over? Do we go back to being friends or does he go back to pretending I don’t exist outside of his phone?
“I don’t know…” I trail off. It sounds ridiculous when I think about it. Then again, people get married for worse reasons. We’re trying to achieve something good here. Something that will benefit both of us.
Then Roman seals the deal. “Can you imagine the look on Josh’s face when he finds out you married me? That vein on his forehead might finally pop.” His voice is low and seductive, like a demon trying to lure you in.
I must be an easy mark because the image of Josh losing his shit is very convincing to me. I don’t care what he thinks or does, though there is still a part of me which wants to win the breakup. I take a big breath and release it slowly.
A woman sitting on the other side of the slot machines starts coughing loudly and Roman grimaces. “I think I just caught a communicable disease.”
“Roman!” I chide, as I try not to laugh.
“Just think about it. If I die, you’ll be a very rich widow,” he whispers, lips tilting up into a smirk.
“Or a very rich convict since people will think I’m the one who killed you.”
Roman’s eyes are like lasers as they pin me in place. “If you kill me, Blossom, I’ll die a happy man.”
My cheeks heat with a blush and I duck my head down to hide my smile.
I know before I even say it that I’m going to agree to this plan.
There’s something about Roman that makes me want to do things I’ll never do with another person.
He makes me feel like I can fall, and he’ll always be there to catch me.
“Until the end of the season,” I say with a swallow. I’ll have to guard my heart behind a cage that I keep locked tight behind a brick wall. Because falling for Roman will be so easy even though I know it’ll lead to heartbreak.
Roman exhales, his eyes closing momentarily.
He nods once and I reach forward, grabbing his hand.
It’s rough and warm in mine. I’m not exactly dainty, but I feel like it with my smaller hand in his.
Roman brushes his thumb over my wedding band and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Is he relieved that I said yes or regretting asking me in the first place?
“Ask him why he left you at our room last night when you were drunk and you two got married,” Jules says. I jump at her voice, having forgotten that she’s right there.
Roman looks up. “Lavinia insisted you should be the first person to find out about the wedding. She told me to wait out in the hallway, which I did for twenty minutes, and then I realized she wasn’t coming out.”
Jules’s anger melts and she twists in her seat. “Aw, Vin. That’s so sweet.”
Guess the only out of character thing I did last night was get married. Roman’s phone starts to ring, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling it out to shut off the alarm. “I have to go if I don’t want to get left behind.”
Squeezing my hand, he reluctantly releases it and turns his chair around.
Then he pauses and looks at me, a hesitant look on his face.
My heart races inside my chest and I wonder how long it’ll be before it returns to normal again.
Before I can ask him what’s wrong, Roman wraps a hand around my neck, pulling me forward.
Our mouths meet in a quick, heated kiss that lights a fuse along my spine.
Roman’s tongue sweeps into my mouth for a taste, and I moan, the sound falling short when he pulls away.
He watches me with hooded eyes before his lips meet mine again and he sucks on my bottom lip.
Just as I reach out to grab him, he pulls away from me again.
My body tilts forward, breathlessly chasing after him.
“I’ll text you later, wife ,” he says gruffly, before getting up and walking away. The heat of his mouth and hand lingers on my skin.
“Do I need to tell you that this is absolute insanity, or do you already know it?” Jules asks.
I try to gain my composure when I swing my chair to look at her. “It’s not like you tried to stop me.”
“That man kissed you like he was starving, and you were his last meal. No way I was getting in the middle of that.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”
“You only feel that way because you didn’t see the way his hand wrapped around your throat.”