23. Lavinia
TWENTY-THREE
LAVINIA
I grip the steering wheel tightly as we get to my parents’ house and park the car. Jules reaches over and turns off the radio, shutting off Sabrina Carpenter mid-song.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says. “I still don’t entirely understand why you agreed to this scheme. It’s so not like you.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and run a hand over my French braid to smooth the curls.
“That’s exactly the point, Jules. It’s not like me.
My content is built on hockey, on training, on being a positive influence to young girls and women and women athletes.
I don’t have hockey anymore, as I always knew would happen one day.
I don’t want this marriage to be known as a drunken mistake and for it to overtake my accomplishments when half the time news outlets forget to add that I’m an Olympic medalist.”
“And they’ll suddenly remember it as soon as they’re talking about you fucking up,” Jules adds, face twisted in disgust.
“Exactly! Everyone already thinks or knows Roman and I have been talking and flirting, so instead of being a drunken mistake, it will be a spontaneous, romantic decision.”
Jules sighs, staring out the windshield. The lights are on, and my parents are probably putting dinner on the table. Grandma and Aunt Constance will be bickering, and Gran will be reading about advancements on String Theory.
“At least the sex will be good,” Jules teases.
“I never said I’m having sex with him,” I protest. Even to my own ears it sounds weak, and the look Jules gives me confirms she doesn’t believe me for a second.
“If you’re not screaming this man’s name from the rooftops, what’s the point of this marriage? What’s the point of any marriage?”
“Love and companionship?” I supply.
“We have love and companionship.”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about the sexual aspect of our relationship. I was thinking about it even before we got married. I know myself, and I will develop feelings. Big, fat feelings that will lead to big, fat tears when the season ends, and we go our separate ways.
Jules and I exit the car and make our way to the front door. Mom must have seen us because the door is unlocked and we step into the foyer, removing our shoes and placing them on the rack.
“How do you want to do this?” Jules whispers.
“Quick and fast.”
“The motto of every bad boyfriend who thinks he’s good at sex.”
I snort-laugh so hard I see my afterlife, which causes Jules to laugh and we’re standing in the foyer laughing loud enough to wake the dead. It’s the kind of laughter which multiplies because suddenly you’re laughing about the fact that you’re laughing, and eye contact makes it worse.
“What’s so funny?” Mom comes out of the living room, smiling at us and shaking her head.
“It’s nothing,” I choke out. “Jules said something funny.”
We make our way into the living room and as I guessed, Grandma and Aunt Constance are bickering quietly about something and Gran is sitting in a corner chair, reading a periodical and sipping on sherry.
“Where’s dad?” I ask.
“Right here.” Dad walks in from the den. I go in for a hug and he squeezes me tightly. I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. Which isn’t to say my mother and I don’t get along because I know it can be misconstrued that way.
Dad and I have our careers in common and I followed the same path he did, so I’ve more in common with him. For a brief moment, I’d considered following my mother into academia, and quickly decided against it.
“What did you want to talk to us about?” Keeping his arm around my shoulder, he turns so we’re facing the rest of the family.
My eyes meet Jules as she’s situating herself between Grandma and Aunt Constance. Gran lowers her periodical and sets her sherry glass down on the table.
Quick and fast , Jules mouths.
I take a deep breath and do it just like that. “I got married in Vegas.”
They all blink at me and Jules gives me a thumbs up. Mom reaches up and grabs Dad’s arm and they exchange a look which is clearly meant to say, “what’s happening?” Aunt Constance is the only one who sits back with a small, knowing smile on her face.
“I’m open to questions,” I say.
“Well, good, because we have many,” Gran says, her brown eyes as sharp as ever. “Who did you marry? How did it happen? Are you getting it annulled?”
I rub my hands on my leggings and tug at my hoodie. “All good questions! I married Roman, and no, we’re not getting it annulled.”
Everyone, except Jules, gasps. Aunt Constance claps once. “Oh, Vinny, this is the best news!”
I smile gratefully at Aunt Constance because at least one person is on my side.
“Roman Maddox?” Dad says. “Roman Maddox!?”
I flinch at the anger in his voice. I’ve never heard it directed at me before, which is another benefit of being a good girl. “Daddy, please take a moment.”
Dad’s face is turning red in anger. “That boy is not good enough for you, Lavinia.”
“You said the same thing about Josh,” I remind him.
Dad drops his arm from around my shoulders and turns away. “Look how well that ended.”
“At least this one walked down the aisle and put a ring on it.” I raise my left hand, and they all look at it, their eyebrows raised. I follow their eyes and realize that I’m not actually wearing a ring because it’s sitting on my dresser. “Metaphorically speaking.”
Mom shakes her head, putting two fingers to her temple as if pushing back a headache. “How did this happen? You’ve never talked about Roman other than recent events.”
I’m prepared for this question because the answer isn’t a lie. “Actually, when I disappeared at my almost-wedding, it was Roman who helped me escape. We’ve been texting since then.”
“Texting doesn’t lead to marriage,” Grandma Liz says.
“Attraction does,” I say with a shrug.
“And let’s not forget he showed up at her date,” Aunt Constance adds. All eyes shift to Dad, remembering that he’d done the same thing with Mom.
“And carried her home because her feet were hurting,” Jules adds gleefully.
Aunt Constance gasps, a hand coming up to rest over her heart. “Oh, how romantic. I knew he was a good one when I spoke to him. He reminds me of my Sal. Do you remember Sal, Lizzie?”
Grandma pats her sister’s hand in reassurance. “He was a good one.”
I’ve only seen photos of Aunt Constance’s first three husbands.
The last two were in my lifetime and they used to dote on her, always buying her flowers or little trinkets, anything to make her laugh.
She doesn’t talk about any of them, but I know my great-aunt and I knew she loved them.
I also know I’ve never seen this look in her eyes before.
Whoever Sal was, he was the love of my great-aunt’s life.
“This is certainly going to take some getting used to,” Mom says, drawing everyone’s attention. “But at least we know Roman. He’s a good boy.”
Dad gives her a look of betrayal and she squeezes his arm, a placating look on her face. He’s not buying it.
“A good boy, Melanie?” The words burst out of him. “That good boy stole alcohol from our liquor cabinet, spent his whole childhood getting in one trouble after another, habitually starts fighting on the ice for no good reason. Not to mention he’s Asher Maddox’s son.”
That last one takes me aback. I had no idea my dad had a problem with Roman’s dad. I actually don’t remember much of Mr. Maddox. Roman mostly came over with his mom unless my parents were having the whole team over.
“He’s always been a good friend to Lavinia,” Mom says, gently. “Remember, they were inseparable. We can’t hold his father’s mistakes against Roman.”
What mistakes? Why didn’t I know about any mistakes? I need to know all the good gossip!
“It’s not about mistakes, Melanie,” Dad says. “It’s about how much of his father’s personality has rubbed off on Roman and the fact that he’s now married to our daughter.”
“Will someone please explain?” I ask. “Why are you worried about Roman’s personality? He’s...nice.”
Dad looks at me sharply. “Why did you hesitate? Has he said something?”
“No, he’s nice. To me. Roman doesn’t believe in being nice to people for the sake of being nice,” I say. “He’s perfectly polite, but he believes that niceness, trust, and loyalty are all things which need to be earned rather than given freely because society expects it.”
“That’s a very pragmatic point of view,” Gran says.
Jules raises her hand. “As someone who’s been to therapy, it can also be a trauma induced point of view. People suck, and because they’re family or people you know doesn’t mean they deserve your blind trust.”
I think back to the last Falcons game. Roman’s parents were there, but he didn’t even greet them, didn’t even glance their way, as if he didn’t care. Come to think of it, they didn’t seem to care, either.
“Asher Maddox has always had a chip on his shoulder,” Dad says. “He believed he deserved a lot more than he got. He’s never been happy with what he has, and he’s always been controlling to the point of madness. That’s not a family I want you married into.”
“Let’s have dinner before it gets cold and then we can discuss this further,” Mom says with a sigh.
One by one, they file out of the living room and walk to the dining room. I get my phone out of my pocket and text Roman to let him know my family took the news of our marriage incredibly well.
It’s kind of a lie, but I’m not about to tell him all the discussion surrounding his parents. He doesn’t reply, but that’s not a problem. I put my phone back and go join my family for dinner, mentally preparing myself to learn a lot of unpleasant details about my husband’s parents.