39. Lavinia
THIRTY-NINE
LAVINIA
The only thing that makes it easy to be without Roman is I get to hang out with Jules daily. We’re currently recording an episode of Unscripted and Jules is losing it over how much she can’t stand love triangles, and I’m loving every second of it.
This is really why we named the podcast Unscripted because half the time we have no plans what we’re going to talk about. We’re a book girl and a sports girl talking it out.
“The only time a love triangle is acceptable is when the girl is going to end up with both guys,” Jules says, raising her hands in surrender. “I said what I said.”
“Okay, but that isn't a love triangle. A love triangle needs to have a lot of angst and drama.”
“The angst and drama I can get with. The part I hate is where the girl is stupid and she's basically encouraging both guys even though she’s clearly picked one, but she doesn't want to let the other one go,” Jules says.
“Okay, we all know that Twilight left you a little traumatized,” I say with a laugh.
“Imagine how much more enjoyable the books would’ve been had Bella dated both Edward and Jacob. I'm just saying.”
I laugh, even as I think that she's not wrong. Coming from Jules, this opinion isn’t a surprise.
Let’s not forget she was in a three-way relationship in college.
We close the podcast with the usual announcements from our sponsors and where people can find us on our social media.
I remove my headphones and put them on the table, massaging my head.
“I need a gallon of water after that. My throat is so dry,” Jules says.
“You do get very worked up about love triangles,” I say, handing her the jug of water.
I’ve been encouraging her to drink more water and bought her a 1.
5L jug and told her she has to finish two of those in a day.
So far, she’s been pretty good with it because it’s new.
Once it loses its novelty, she’s going to go back to being parched, and doing everything but drinking water.
“Just fuck it out already is what I say. It’ll solve so many problems. Stop being so lazy.” She’s up and moving about the room, her hands animated as she talks. Then she stops and turns to look at me. “Speaking of fucking it out.”
“I thought you had laundry to fold,” I say, ignoring her comment and trying not to blush furiously.
Of course, I told her all about the medical room incident. I left out the details because that would be TMI. She knows the gist of it, and she hasn’t stopped teasing me since I came back.
“Do you want to go to the bookstore with me?” Jules asks, twirling around in her chair.
“I’ll go to the bookstore with you and buy you two new books if you fold your laundry. I’ll even sit with you while you do it.”
Jules sighs deeply. “Fine.”
The only reason I’m pushing her to do it is because she’s been telling me she wants to do it and it’s gotten to the point where she’s running out of clothes because she hasn’t put them back where they belong. She needs a little encouragement sometimes.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?” I ask, as I lie down on her bed.
Jules dumps her clothes on the bed and starts folding.
“I’m flexible.”
“I can try to make lasagna again and this time not set off the smoke alarm,” I suggest.
“The lasagna was fire, though. No pun intended.”
Once her laundry is folded, I follow through on my promise.
I get us coffees and drive us to the bookstore.
For us, being at the bookstore is like coming home after months away.
It’s also a game of telling each other all of the books that we’ve read and that we plan on reading and that we wanted to read but never got around to because the mood didn’t strike.
“Do you want me to pick the two books for you or do you want to pick them for yourself?”
Jules twists her mouth, thinking about it. “I think I prefer a surprise.”
“Great, you go that way, I’ll go this way, and then we’ll meet here in twenty minutes.”
We turn and walk in our separate directions.
I find two books for Jules, both standalones because Jules is always hesitant to read a series.
One is a cute little romcom inspired by Sleepless in Seattle , which happens to be her favorite movie, and the other is a dark romcom where the male main character is a stalker.
I’m on my way back to our meeting spot when someone calls my name.
“Lavinia?”
I spin around and see Desi Reynolds, a girl Jules and I went to high school with. One of the things I love about Desi is that she’s unapologetically herself. It’s freezing and snowing outside and she’s wearing a short skirt and high heels.
“Oh my gosh, Desi! Hi!”
I give her a quick hug.
“It’s so weird running into you here. I heard about what happened with Josh.” She makes a cringe face. “I’m so sorry.”
I wave off her apology and concern. “That’s old news. I’m actually married now.”
I show her my ring and as expected, she squeals with excitement as Jules rounds the corner. Desi and Jules exchange greetings and hugs.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Desi asks, still holding my hand.
“It’s Roman Maddox. I don’t know if you remember him?”
Roman and I didn’t go to the same high school because he went to boarding school. He sometimes hung out with my friends from high school when he’d be home during the summer. Most of the time, Roman and I hung out alone.
“The tall, dark haired one? The one who was always looking at you like he didn’t want to share you?”
“That’d be the one,” Jules agrees with a nod.
“I don’t think that’s how Roman looked at me,” I say.
The looks that Jules and Desi give me are pitying. Clearly, they know something that I don’t know, or I didn’t see. There’s no way Roman wanted me all the way back in high school and never said anything.
“I’m on my way to see Callie,” Desi says. “You heard what happened to Callie?” She leans closer. “Her nose job got butchered.”
Jules and I exchange a quick glance before looking away.
“Oh no, that’s terrible,” Jules says.
“It really is,” Desi says. “She was so hopeful this one would be the one.”
I have to try so hard not to look at Jules because if I do, we won’t be able to control ourselves. With a massive sigh, Desi gives us another hug, tells us to stay in touch, and walks off.
“I told you she got a nose job,” Jules says, as soon as Desi is out of earshot.
“I know, I believed you,” I say.
“It’s not the nose job itself that I have a problem with. I mean, your body, your choice. If you want to look like Barbie, look like Barbie, who cares? It’s the fact that she claims to have a “platform” and then lies on it. You wouldn’t get cosmetic surgery and not reveal it or lie about it.”
“Of course not, that would go against my entire platform.”
“Exactly! Everyone gets a little nip, a little tuck here and there. Who cares about fillers? But going onto your platform and flat out lying about changing your face when we can see you have changed your face? It bugs me so much.”
“But it’s Callie, she’s always been that way.”
Jules shakes her head. “Anyway, who cares? Which books did you get me?”
I show her the books I picked up for her and they’re exactly what she was looking for. I pay for her books, and we leave the bookstore to head to the grocery store so I can buy items for dinner.
Lavinia
Kita invited me to her apartment.
Roman
I told you she liked you.
Lavinia
She also called me Lucy.
Roman
You’re definitely not a Lucy.
Lavinia
Ooh, you sound so confident. Maybe my alter ego is a Lucy.
Roman
Your alter ego is definitely not a Lucy. She’s probably just Lavinia.
Lavinia
My alter ego is just me? I’m too boring to even have an interesting alter ego???
Roman
I love how in sync we are after only three months of marriage. I’ve heard it takes people years to misconstrue everything their partner says.
Lavinia
We do have a shared history. I think that cuts down on a lot of time hence why you already know I’m boring and there’s no mystery to our relationship.
Roman
Do people actually still use hence?
Lavinia
I used it, and I’m still people, last time I checked.
Roman
If that’s the lie you’ve been telling yourself, no wonder you think you’re boring. I think you’re some kind of ethereal being sent here to make the rest of us look bad by example.
Lavinia
Are you almost home?
Roman
Almost.
I can’t wait any longer. My body is jittery with nerves, and I’ve checked my reflection in the floor length mirror in Roman’s closet at least fifty times.
I’ve braided and unbraided my hair, left it down and put it up, and left it down again.
Put on lip gloss and removed it because who wants to kiss with lip gloss?
I grab my phone off the kitchen counter and send a voice note to Jules. I’m leaning over the counter, one foot kicked up onto the footrest of a bar stool. Anxiety churns in my stomach.
“How is it that I’m thirty-two and this is the first time I’m doing this?”
My phone makes the swoosh noise of a sent message, and the ding of the reply comes immediately.
“Because you’re officially in your thirsty thirties with a hot husband who treats you like a princess.”
“But I don’t want him to treat me like a princess,” I send back.
Jules’s reply is her laughing and then, “Don’t worry, my precious flower, I’m sure given the opportunity he’ll rail you to within an inch of your life.”
My face flushes with heat and that anxious feeling starts to get worse. “How can you be sure?”
I don’t know why I ask because I already have proof from Philly.
“I can be sure.”
I turn around, almost face planting to the floor because my foot’s still tangled with the barstool. Roman’s standing two feet away from me, his hazel eyes sparkling with delight and that sinful mouth tilted up into a smirk.
My heart thumps inside my chest as I take him in. I haven’t seen him since the Falcons game and those two days in between were long as hell. Instantly, I’m a lot calmer and the anxiety almost goes away.
Roman’s never made it secret how much he wants me or how much he cares about me as a person with feelings. His presence soothes over all other hurts and leaves behind a pleasant tingling sensation.
“When you said you’re almost home, were you already in the building?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he asks a question of his own. “Are you wearing my jersey?”
I look down at myself in surprise as if I didn’t plan this whole thing.
“Oh, yeah! I guess I am wearing your jersey.” I clap my hands, moving away from the stools and around the counter. “I was going to make dinner but ended up ordering takeout instead. Are you hungry?”
I wave my hand over the takeout containers like a showgirl. But the hunger in Roman’s eyes isn’t directed at the food. He rounds the counter slowly, never taking his eyes off me. The way he moves can only be described as prowling and it makes my insides quiver in the most delicious way.
“Lavinia, you’re in my apartment, in my jersey, probably wearing nothing under it. The last thing I’m thinking about is food.”
“Oh?” I blink innocently. “You want to go straight to sleep, then? You must be so exhausted after all that travel.”
“Lavinia,” he growls.
Before I have the chance to reply or think, Roman moves. He grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder in one move like I weigh nothing. I scream, grabbing his waist with my hands.
“Roman!” I laugh. “Do not drop me.”
“You don’t even need to ask, baby.” His grip on my thighs is like steel and I don’t doubt for a second that I’m safe. I’m always safe when I’m with him. He’s leading us away from the kitchen and towards his room.
“I could get used to being carried around if there wasn’t a shoulder digging into my stomach,” I say lightly.
In the bedroom, he does exactly what he said he wouldn’t do and drops me. At least, there’s a bed under me. I grip the covers in my fist so I don’t slide off the bed.
“I can’t believe you dropped me after telling me you won’t drop me. How can I ever trust you again?”
Roman’s on top of me, his hands braced on either side of my body. No part of his body touches mine, but I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. He eclipses everything else in the room, in my mind. Dipping down, Roman presses his lips to mine and I’m not expecting it.
The kiss is tender and needy, scoring my soul. I reach up, gripping Roman’s hips and pulling him against me. He moans into my mouth, his weight settling on top of me, cradled between my thighs. I’m gasping into his mouth, rocking my hips up because he’s deliciously hard.
“Fuck, I missed you,” Roman breathes into my mouth.
My whole body lights up with pleasure and I can’t stop the goofiest smile from overtaking my face. It makes kissing harder and we’re both smiling and giggling.
“I missed you, too,” I whisper. Because it’s easy to say it when he’s right in front of me. When he’s said it first.
Roman kisses me again, before pushing off the bed and standing at the edge. He slowly removes his t-shirt and tosses it aside. I let my eyes trail over his body, the strong shoulders, the flat plains of his abs and stomach, and it only causes the ache between my legs to worsen.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.