35. Lavinia #2
It’s been four days since I last saw him, and I missed him so much. A fissure of worry runs through me at that thought. I’m falling too fast, and I can’t seem to stop it. I’m not sure I want to, even as I worry that what’s going to meet me on the other side is the cold, hard pavement of reality.
I wrap my legs around his waist and ignore the worry nagging in the back of my mind. I need to learn to enjoy myself in the moment.
“Did you have a good day?” Roman asks, his mouth trailing down my neck, peppering kisses on each inch of exposed skin.
“I did. Jules and I went shopping and I found the perfect dress for tomorrow night.” I fell in love when I saw the dress. I’ve never worn anything so beautiful, and the best part is, it matches my ring perfectly.
“Josh sent a cake for me to celebrate.”
Roman leans back, anger filling his gaze. “Why the hell is he sending you anything now?”
I shrug, my fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t know, but Jules and I filmed the perfect response.”
A smirk lifts up the corner of his beautiful mouth. “Did you do something bad? Have I rubbed off on you?”
“You haven’t rubbed off on me yet. Maybe after dinner.”
Roman playfully bites my neck, making me laugh. He pulls away from me slowly, placing lingering kisses on my mouth.
Hearing a buzz on the island next to me, I look down and see Roman’s phone. It’s lit up with a text message from someone named Elena.
“You have a message,” I say.
Roman picks up his phone and when he sees the message, he rolls his eyes. “It’s my cousin. She likes to send me stats about hockey players and all the injuries they’ve suffered because she thinks team sports are barbaric.”
I’m too caught up on the cousin part and miss the rest of what he says.
“You have a cousin?” I ask in surprise.
Roman looks up at me. “Yeah, from my mother’s side of the family.”
“Are you close?”
Setting his phone aside, Roman gives me a kiss before rounding the counter.
“Kind of. We text, but we’re both too busy to meet. I don’t think my family is capable of being close.”
He doesn’t seem to appear to say more on this topic, so I drop it. Family is a contentious topic for him.
While he cooks his sauce, I take the time to greet the kitties, showering them with love and kisses. I give them the toys I purchased this afternoon, and they play with them for about ten minutes before growing bored. Buffy jumps into my arms and I carry her to the kitchen with me.
I tell Roman about another supernatural conspiracy theory I learned as he kneads dough for pasta. Because he’s making me fresh pasta.
“You don’t believe any of that stuff, do you?” I’m too distracted by the veins popping out on his hands and forearms to even hear him. He has such nice hands; no wonder I like it when he wraps one around my throat.
“Lavinia?” Roman looks up at me in question.
“I’m sorry, I was distracted by the forearm porn. Have you considered making thirst traps on the internet?”
“The only person I want to thirst trap is you.”
“Food is my love language,” I tell him. He passes by me to stir the sauce again, pausing to give me a kiss on the cheek. It’s something so innocent, but it melts me each time.
“Then it’s a good thing I know how to cook.”
“To answer your question, I’m not sure if I believe in the stuff. I like being open minded.”
I watch him roll out the dough and feed it into the pasta maker. The whole process is fascinating to me, as someone who rarely cooks because she’s bad at it. I can do the basic things to survive, but I’d never even attempt to make my own pasta and sauce.
“Are your parents going to be there tomorrow night?” I ask Roman.
All Titans, whether current or former, are invited to the annual Christmas party, as well as their family members. My parents always attend, and I’ve attended a few in the past. I’ve never seen Mr. and Mrs. Maddox there.
“No, they don’t attend the Christmas parties,” Roman says, eyes focused on the pasta he’s making. “I think the last one they attended was the one before my father retired. They only did it for appearances.”
“Do they know about us?” I ask quietly.
If I see his parents randomly walking down the street, how do I greet them?
Roman looks up at me, his face flat. “No. I try to limit communication with them as much as possible. In fact, my father and I have mostly been communicating through my agent. He’s been trying to get me to do this interview to ‘clean up my image’.”
I was wondering why Roman suddenly wanted to fit in with the Titans when he doesn’t even believe in team camaraderie.
For a man who plays team sports, he really hates being part of a team.
Is he trying to get along with the team now to ‘clean up his image’ without giving his father any leeway into his life?
“Do you want to clean up your image?” I ask.
“Fuck, no. There’s nothing to clean, and it’s an excuse anyway.” He turns to put the sliced pasta into boiling water.
“How is it an excuse?”
“When you or Drew get interviewed, do they ask about your dad?” Roman crosses his arms and leans against the counter.
I nod in agreement. “You think the interview is a puff piece for your dad, especially since he’s pushing you to do it.”
“Exactly. I have thirty-two years of experience that the man is incapable of thinking about anyone but himself. Especially since—” Roman stops, frowning a little as he turns to the stove.
“Since what?” I prod gently. I get up from the stool and walk around the island to stand next to him, placing a hand on his wide back. His muscles are tense under my hand. “Roman?”
“Especially since people believe I started playing hockey because of him,” Roman grumbles, and looks up at me, the intensity in his eyes knocking my breath away.
“I started playing because of you, and your passion and determination on the ice. I started playing because I used to watch you play hockey with the other kids and I wanted to play with you.”
That’s not the answer I’m expecting. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that I’m the reason he’s playing hockey. He built his whole career around me, because of me. I cup his cheek and arch up onto my toes to kiss him.
“I’m honored to have inspired you,” I whisper.
Roman’s smile presses against my mouth. “You inspire me every day, Blossom.”
He plates our dinner and as we eat, I tell him all about the brand deal I have to film and when the conversation inevitably turns to hockey and their upcoming away games, Roman doesn’t shut it down.
He listens to me talk about the teams, about how the season is going, and he provides plenty of input.
I tell him I’m looking forward to tomorrow night and he grumbles about having to socialize.
It’s the best date I’ve ever had.