Chapter 9 Roman #2
“If that’s what you want to call it.” We arrive at our building, and I reach out to hold the door open for her.
She’s quiet as we cross the lobby to wait for an elevator, and her silence makes me feel like I need to explain myself.
“My mom left my dad for another man—his best friend, actually—when I was fourteen.”
“Oh, Roman, I’m so sorry,” she says, laying a hand on my arm. “That must have been really hard on you.”
I shrug off her concern. “It was harder on my dad.” Listening through the wall that separated our bedrooms as my father cried and drowned himself in enough scotch to find oblivion wasn’t a fucking picnic, that’s for sure.
My dad was what you call a functioning alcoholic for six months before he managed to pull himself together.
I don’t fool myself into thinking that my parents had a great marriage, or that my dad was blameless for the split, but I know my dad loved my mom, and losing her had nearly crushed him.
Not me, though. As soon as she walked out on us, I wrote my mom off like a bad check.
I don’t have time for disloyalty in my life, no matter who it is.
She chews on her lip and seems to be turning things over in her mind. When the elevator doors close, she waits for me to hit the button for our floor, then says, “So, because your parents’ didn’t work out, you’re completely anti-marriage?”
“Of course not.” Addison starts to smile, but I put a stop to it when I continue. “It’s true that it didn’t do much for my faith in the sanctity of marriage, but being raised by one of the top divorce attorneys in the state of Illinois is what snuffed out what little faith I’d had left.”
Concern is etched into the corners of her eyes.
I hate that I’m putting it there, but I force myself to hold her gaze and open up, just this once.
I’m not planning on going all Oprah on her, but it seems only fair to let her in a little since I’ve been trying to get her to do the same.
Plus, giving her another reason to stay away from me, other than professionally, isn’t a terrible idea.
I might have to depend on her keeping her distance, since my body seems determined to shred my willpower at every fucking turn.
So I keep going.
“As a teenager, my dad let me help him with easy stuff. I saw case after case of people who’d once vowed to love each other until the end of their days choosing to give up—fighting over who gets the most insignificant things, like a goddamn toaster, as if either one of them gave a shit about it.
Their reasons for quitting ranged from simply falling out of love to serial infidelity and everything in between, but it all came down to the same thing: most marriages don’t last.”
I didn’t know it was possible, but I think I rendered the wildcat speechless.
The elevator dings, and we step out to enter our suite, both giving a warm greeting to Maggie as we pass her.
Addison peels off when we reach her office, but she says my name, so I double back the couple of feet to stand in her doorway.
“Yeah?” She cants her head as though trying to think of the best way to say what’s on her mind. “Out with it, Addison.”
“I was just curious,” she starts slowly. “You kept saying you don’t believe in marriage. Does that mean that you’re fine with the idea of long-term relationships as long as marriage isn’t involved?”
“First, it’s not that I believe marriage never works.
I’m aware that there are plenty of happily married couples out there who will remain as such their entire lives.
I just think the odds are grossly stacked against that outcome.
I live for challenges, but there’s a difference between a challenge and a bad investment. ”
“And second?”
“Second,” I say, dropping my voice to make sure it doesn’t carry down the hall. “I don’t have any issues with long-term relationships, but I’m not the kind of guy a woman wants for that sort of thing.”
She crosses her arms under her chest, and her tone holds a hint of disdain. “Is it a ‘too many fish in the sea’ problem? You don’t have any desire to be a one-woman kind of man?”
“On the contrary, Addison.” I step in close so she has to tilt her head back to hold eye contact with me, then I say gruffly, “If I were in a relationship, she’d be the only woman ever in my bed.
She would be the focus of my every thought, and my greatest pleasure would be drawing hers out in every way imaginable. ”
I swear I can see a tremble shudder through her. “What’s the catch?”
Clever girl. If it sounds too good to be true… “The catch,” I say, “is that I have no desire for a one-man kind of woman.”
Her mouth drops open from another temporary case of speechlessness, but I know it won’t last. I can see the wheels in her head turning so fast I’m surprised smoke isn’t coming out of her ears.
The phone intercom beeps from her desk. “Addison, you have a call on line two.”
“Um, thanks, Maggie.” She’s flustered, like she’s not sure whether she should take the call or continue our conversation. Definitely the former.
Composing myself, I say, “You’d better get that. I’ll be on calls all afternoon.” That’s a lie, but I need some distance, to breathe air not tainted with her addictive scent. “Shoot me an email if you need anything.”
As I close her door behind me and continue on to my refuge, I curse my lack of self-restraint. The woman is forbidden fruit—temptation wrapped in sin—and it’s getting harder to remember why I can’t just have a fucking taste.