18. Waverly
CHAPTER 18
WAVERLY
Fortunate:I made a new friend.
Unfortunate:I think I scared Roman away.
After the brief stop in Virginia, we took off for the final leg of our trip, and Roman and I decided to ask Emily if she would play my favorite game, which the Huxley’s just so happened to have in-flight—Mille Bornes. It’s a French race car card game. Sure, they both sat there and made fun of me for the better half of the plane ride, but I enjoyed it all the same until we decided it was best we turn in for the night.
I stand, rubbing my hands down my legs. “I think I’m going to hit the hay.” Hit the hay? I sound like a forty-year-old woman. And I’m still hours away from that. Roman lets out a light chuckle and stands as well.
My proposal for him was maybe he could sleep next to me a few more times. There hasn’t been a night since Patrick died that I slept uninterrupted from nightmares. But instead, I let it go. And I think he has, too.
“I’m going to catch up on some work,” Roman says, gesturing to the desk on the other side of the plane.
I look at him, and he falters. He’s nervous. Fiddling with his fingers, and his eyes bouncing from me to his shoes, to the desk, to me. My chest explodes with pride. Of course, I don’t want him to be nervous around me, but it does stroke my ego a bit.
The flight to Naples goes quickly. Or at least, I think it did. I slept the whole way until Roman woke me up to come to the galley for landing. We make small talk about the mattress and its firmness, how his dad has been toying with getting a Sleep Number bed to replace it. Roman and I both agreed that we like it harder.
Scenic Italy was everything I thought it would be. We spent the day killing time exploring the city. It was breathtaking. Everything was green and colorful and not anything like I could have imagined. And almost impossible to take it all in when our cab driver was driving like a lunatic. Although, that did work in my favor, I guess… Roman held on to me after the third time I flew across the back seat. Yes , I was wearing a seatbelt. No , I’m not exaggerating. I thought death-by-cab driving was just an American thing. Turns out it’s worldwide… I’d take the sacrifice any day if it came with a Roman holding onto me, though…
Much sooner than I’d have liked, the sadist pulls up to the docks, sparing no life as we see people jumping out of the way of our cab. He takes our bags out of the back and lays them on the cobblestone road before Roman hands him some euros. Not moving an inch, we watch as the driver peels out, kicking up rocks.
“Left in the dust,” Roman jokes, grabbing our suitcases. “Jesus Christ, woman, did you pack a dead body?”
We both stop to look at each other before bursting into laughter. The joke itself was poorly timed, considering it’s been barely a year, and maybe would’ve made others a bit uncomfortable given the circumstances. A moment of understanding passes between us. It’s as if to say, you’re past the grieving stage. You’re finally able to make dead people jokes.
As we stand next to each other, rooted in place, unwilling to move away from each other, I gaze out into the Tyrrhenian Sea. It’s a gorgeous hue of turquoise against the clear sky. Pink and purple flowers line the coastline. The color palette is what dreams are made of.
Of course, I can’t bask in happiness too long before my brain starts bringing up shit from the past. “It’s not tsunami-prone here,” I say to myself. The last one occurred in 1343, so if I allow my brain to stick with statistics and logic rather than focusing on “what ifs,” my fortieth birthday should be enjoyable. And I’ll be able to appreciate the hue of the ocean and vibrant colors on the coast, damnit.
Roman drops the suitcases and extends his arm, pointing to a large white yacht. “That’s it. ‘ Fearless Lady.’ My dad wanted to name it ‘ Gallant Lady ,’ but a shit ton of those exist already. So he found the next best thing to describe my mother.”
“He named the yacht after your mom?” Swoon. “That’s romantic,” I marvel.
Roman watches the yacht rock subtly in the rippling water until I see him look at me out of the corner of his eye. I turn to him, which closes some of the distance between us.
“You must have gotten that romance-y thing from your dad.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I allow the night he planned under the stars to seep a little more into my heart. He did that all for me. The motorcycle ride, the line dancing. All for me.
He turns to look at me and his gaze falls to my lips. Like they have countless times before. My brain tells me to step away. To move back. But instead, my body leans ever-so-slightly forward, yearning for a kiss.
“Yep.” Now let’s get going before they leave without us.” He pops up off the bench, and no sooner than the words leave his mouth, I spot his parents waving from the top deck. Looks like the show’s about to hit the road… Or the sea, I guess.
As we begin to make our way down to the ramp, his parents come into clearer focus and I suddenly feel overdressed, or… over-layered. His mom’s wearing a navy-blue striped tankini; modest for a swimsuit, but also much more scantily clad than I’ve ever seen her. And his dad? Well, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. With a surprisingly in-shape torso for a sixty-year-old. He must have gotten tips from Roman…
I subconsciously pull at the neck of my sweater, suddenly feeling slightly flustered, and feel Roman’s hand rest gently on my lower back.
“It’s strictly ‘relax’ attire on this trip. We’ll get you changed.”
We’ll?
Before I have any further time to translate the hidden meaning behind his words, Roman gently nudges me in the leg with my suitcase, urging me forward onto the deck. Except, I can’t.I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It’s hard to inhale. I feel myself start to tremble and I’m frozen in place.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
I look back at Roman. He drops the suitcases and pulls me back to the dock and over to a wooden bench on the dock.
“Come here. Sit,” he motions with one hand, “Lean down and put your head between your legs.”
I do what he tells me. Is this how I die?
“Breathe, Waverly.”
I always know when he’s serious, he calls me by my name and not the nickname he gave me all those years ago. And so, again, I follow his direction and breathe .
He sinks next to me and begins to rub my back in slow, small circles until I’m able to sit up and take a long, deep breath.
“Any better?” he asks, sliding his hand from my back, but letting his fingertips linger on my skin. A wave of heat washes through me as I fight the urge to lean into his touch. Part of me wants to admit I’m not, to see if I could be comforted by more than his hand. But I nod in agreement, mainly because I’m embarrassed, and because we are being watched by literally everyone.
“Look at me, Kensi.” He tilts my chin to him so we’re eye to eye. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” At least that much is true. I’m not worried about the ocean. I’m not worried about tsunamis. I’m worried that another person I love will die. Another person I love. That’s the first time I’ve admitted that.
My eyes widen and my mouth parts as I exhale hot air against the coastal breeze. Love. I couldn’t possibly love someone again. No love is worth that type of wreckage of one's heart. I take a few more deep breaths as I mentally steady.
Roman taps my shoulder gently, leans in, and rests his lips on the shell of my ear. “You don’t have to worry about me either. The cocky ones always die last. Look at Maverick.” He pulls away and puts his sunglasses on like the main character in Top Gun .I feel heat take over my cheeks and move to my chest. His corded arms extend and contract with every movement and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting a smile. “Enjoying the view?” A smirk spreads on his face.
“I was until your big head blocked it and you ruined it.” I stick my tongue out at him through my teeth, teasingly batting his arm with my hand.
“I ruined nothing.” He stands, puffs out his chest, and extends his hand to help me up. I never noticed how attractive his hands were. Large and tan, the veins popping out. Like he’s a man who isn’t afraid to use his hands. To work, that is. Definitely where my mind was . Age hasn’t caught up to him yet. And despite the sirens going off in my head, I take his hand. “Let’s get you on the boat before you decide to run back to the States.”
In response, he smacks his palm in mine and swings to his feet, "Aye-aye, Captain."
Our eyes lock for a moment, and our hands linger for just a touch longer than necessary before he breaks away and turns his back, “I’ll have to issue you a dressing down if you make us late.”
Yes, please.
Jesus Christ, Waverly. Remember who this is. Patrick’s younger brother, Roman. Your friend, Roman.
“Roman,” I mutter under my breath.
“Roman!” That’s not my voice, but it sure is familiar.It’s not his mom or dad’s voice either. My eyes travel to the sound and see the source waving from where Roman’s parents had been standing only a few minutes earlier.
“ Lena’s here?” I whisper, so that only Roman can hear.His ex is on the boat with us. Did he invite her?! “Did you not say she was moving out of your house and you were broken up?”
He turns to look back at me with what almost looks like fear flitting across his face. “Yes, I did, and we are. I didn’t know she’d be here. I didn’t invite her.”
“It’s okay. This is going to be a great birthday.” I hope my words don’t show the sarcasm battling for release. “The more the merrier! At least you won’t be lonely at night.” I try not to spit those last words out and hide my emotions. Sure, I sound like a petty, passive-aggressive teenage girl, but I’m not even sorry about it.
“I’m not lonely,” he whispers, his hand finding the small of my back. Right where moments earlier, I wanted it to be. But right now?
I stick my tongue out at him again and walk past him up the ramp into his mother’s arms. Not my proudest moment.
“I’m so happy you both made it safely.” Janine Huxley’s beautiful, amber eyes bounce between me and Roman. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course, it’s okay, Neen,” Harold, Roman’s dad, says boisterously next to her, “We’re in Italy!”
Her gaze penetrates mine, one brow raised, as I see her attempt to search my brain for the truth I’m hiding. But eventually, she gives up and turns narrowed eyes on her youngest son. I don’t want to know what that look means.
My own eyes stalk Lena like a lion stalking a gazelle. She approaches Roman, her walk oozing sex, desire, and unhindered confidence as her long, white linen skirt flows elegantly behind from the gentle breeze. Her tan midriff is exposed by her cute, white, cropped tank. And her toned arms wrap around him like it’s second nature. “I’m glad you made it, Roman!” She lets go of him and folds her hands in front of her, tensing in excitement. “We’re sharing a room, aren’t you excited.” Roman’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open. Speechless, much?
I hate that she’s a nice person. My secret anger toward her for being perfect would be a lot easier to excuse.
Abort! Abort! I’m next on her radar as she makes her way over to me. “Nice to see you again, Wynter,” she chimes, pulling me into an obligatory hug. I use my one free hand to return the embrace while looking at Roman next to me. He looks tormented by confusing emotions.
“It’s Waverly, but I’m sure you know that.” I pat her shoulder blade like it’s a tap out in a UFC fight. I pull back as Roman pushes through us and sets our suitcases down in the main cabin. I ignore the palpable tension and peer around at my new home for the next two weeks. It’s gorgeous; literally like a house on the water. Patrick never invited me on his family’s boat. He’s taken fishing trips with the men of the family plenty of times. I immediately wonder how many times I was just an afterthought to him.
“Roman, you can leave Waverly’s suitcases in…ummm…Patrick’s room.” Janine smiles at her son, the pain of his absence still strong with their mother.
He looks at me with furrowed brows. “Mom, what is Lena doing here? We broke up. And I don’t think Kensi wants to sleep?—”
Janine’s eyes go wide, “Oh dear, I didn’t know that.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Let me think how to fix this, Roman. And Waverly most likely still sleeps in Patrick’s bed at her apartment, does she not? It’s no different here.” I’m not sure what’s happening right now, and I’m not sure I want to know.
I glance at Lena with her hands clasped in front of her, smiling up at a frowning Roman. Her beachy blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail with a loose braid tucked along the side. Even her hair is perfect. I look like a hot mess. After a motorcycle ride, two naps, and a hellish cab ride over here, I feel like Medusa.
I search for Harold, wondering at what point he’s going to step into this conversation. It’s awkward and a smidge uncomfortable. Normally his cue for an intervention, but I’m out of luck as I spot him deep-diving into a bowl of strawberries, stacking three different cheeses off a tray, and pushing them into his mouth. I try to wide-eye him as a silent beacon for help and fail miserably.
“Can you stop talking about her like she isn’t here?” Roman gestures to me while I’m now trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get off this boat.
“It won’t be a problem, you sleeping in Patrick’s old room, will it, Waverly? He used it maybe a handful of times before he left for the Coast Guard, so it’s more like a spare room.” Janine turns to me with a forced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. The sadness behind them is all too familiar.
I glance at Roman and back to his mom.I enjoy sleeping alone. I did our entire relationship. Nothing new to see here. “Not at all, Janine.” I turn my back to the three of them and join Harold. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
Roman and his mom are still talking, while Lena stands there like an anxious puppy ready to be pet, as Harold leans closer to me. Roman has his father’s eyes. The dark, mysterious, almost up-to-no-good kind of eyes that are a beautiful mahogany color in the sun. “Grab some cheese and meet me down there.” He points to the main deck of the boat that’s lined with reclined Adirondack chairs. I don’t bother letting the other two Huxleys, or Lena, know where I’m going. They’re in their own little world. So, I follow my instructions and grab a plate with some cheese and a few other pieces of fruit. This spread is something out of a catering magazine. It’s enough to feed an entire family for a week.
A gentle breeze kicks up as I walk down the steps to meet Harold. He sits down with his plate full of cheese, letting out a grunt. “It’s been a bit tense since Patrick passed.”
Well, that’s out of the blue.
I feel my nerves humming. I haven’t discussed Patrick with anyone but Roman or Tom.
“Roman hasn’t come around for the past several months. Christ…to see my son, I have to go to his work. He’s always holed up in his office. I hate that life for him. He’s young. He needs to live and have fun…” Harold glances at me out of the corner of his eye and back out to the water. “...Find a real love, and not some puppy love.”
His salt and pepper hair blows in his face. He’s a handsome man, much like his son. Roman has more of his features than his mother’s. It’s obvious Patrick was his mother’s son—light hair and pale skin.
“He has time. He’s still young. Rome’s only twenty-four,” I say, trying to defend him.
“You’re right.” He pops another piece of square white cheese in his mouth. Thankfully, he finishes chewing before he continues. “One more thing, Waverly…”
I take a bite of pineapple, and I look at him through squinted eyes. I forgot my sunglasses. “Yes, sir.”
“Janine meant no harm in inviting Lena. The last time Roman visited, Lena was in tow. Neen figured they were still together…mostly because she never asked.” Harold’s shoulders fall. “Every day kind of moves in a blur after a child dies. She’s been having a really hard time mourning his death…it’s made even worse when you are robbed of the closure of them not recovering his body. I had to get her off of her happy pills first. She was popping them like Skittles. Anyway, no matter what, you’ll always be a part of our family, Waverly. Even after we marry off Roman.” And another piece of cheese. Marry off Roman. Those words sit in the pit of my stomach like a bad dollop of mayo. I wince, trying not to think of Roman getting married. I’m not sure why I’m having such an extreme, visceral reaction to the thought, but my guess is that now is not the time to dive into that. Harold is still rambling, which is why I love him so much. We are similar. “I’m not sure who’s going to deal with that attitude of his, though. It’s going to take a very special woman.” He never looks at me, but a grin forms on his face. The same one his son has been sharing with me recently.
Footsteps approach. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Roman. I know it’s him from the buzz I feel in my body. Like there’s an electric current between us, tugging at my nerve endings, and it’s really hard to ignore. “You talkin’ about me, Dad?”
Completely avoiding the question, his dad answers, “When are we pulling out, Captain? I want to fish, damnit.” Harold laughs and eyes the beautiful view.
I still can’t believe Roman knows how to sail. I’ve seen his Instagram. His reels are out of this world, but to handle something this big? It’s longer than half of a football field. Impressive.
Roman flashes me the same grin his dad just gave me. “Yeah, Kensi. I know I called you Captain earlier, but you didn’t seriously think you were sailing it, did you? Although…” Oh God. I don’t like the look in his eye. Or the damn smirk on his face. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you give it a whip.”
My face overheats at his words. Good girl. I feel like a teenager with raging hormones at the thought of him using those words someplace his father isn’t present. God. This is so embarrassing.
Roman seems to like my reaction to his words. His grin is still there, but his stare is bold, making my body ache for his touch.
I can’t help but wonder if he offered the same enticing proposition to Lena.
“Harold!” Janine shouts his name from another area of the boat. I barely take my eyes from Roman because I can’t.
“Oh, what does she want now? Always calling my name.” Harold pops up from his chair, dropping the last square of cheese on the deck. Roman never looks away from me, but I turn to watch his dad kick the cube off the back and into the water.
We both watch Harold walk up the steps to the sun deck, mumbling to himself. But I let out a giggle while Roman shakes his head before he crosses the deck and takes his dad's vacated seat beside me. He leans toward me, his elbows on his knees and his face suddenly serious. Or as serious as he can feign in the moment.
“Your birthday’s tomorrow. Do you know what time you were born?” he asks with the mystery in his eyes beckoning to me.
And not missing a beat, I joke, “Why? You want to read me my horoscope?” A laugh floats up his throat. A magical sound that can turn any bad day into a good one.
“No, smartass.” He nudges my knee with the tips of his fingers. “I have something for you, but it has to wait until that exact moment.”
I fight a smile pretty damn hard but fall short. Somehow, he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. It’s different with him. Not bad, maybe better.
No, I like it. No. I love it. There, that’s one thing I’ve learned to love again…
“I was born eighteen minutes after midnight.”
“Twelve-eighteen. Got it.” His tongue skirts over his top teeth as if he’s in deep thought. “I have one more question.” If it were even possible, he’s leaned closer toward me, his knees gently brushing against mine. And that electric current between us charges the air as I wait with anticipation for his next words. He lets he silence hang between us. He must feel the sizzle, too, because surely, he’d just want to get out with it? Right?
“What do you really want for your birthday?” he finally asks, his voice deep as his eyes drop to my lips. Automatically, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
I want to not feel this way around you, where all I want is for you to pull me into the best kiss of my life and to dance with me in the rain. I want you to tell me one more time that turning forty means nothing when it comes to us being together. I want…I want not to want you.
But is that last part true?
I can’t like you.
I exhale a long breath into the breeze. No, that’s not true. Not even a little bit.
I follow his gaze to the necklace that carries the ring Patrick gave me, and watch his shoulders fall and his smile disappear. His tone is slightly flatter as he speaks again, “I’m still waiting, Kens. What do you want?” The low rumble in his voice sets my nerves on fire and butterflies are taking flight in my stomach, trying to get out.
But before I can open my mouth to answer, his dad shouts from the deck above, “Roman Huxley, get your hiney to the bridge. It’s time to set sail if we’re going to celebrate the little lady's birthday before I go to bed!”
Roman lets out a sigh and I feel his warm, minty breath on my cheek. “Looks like that’s my cue,” and without another word, he gets up and disappears through the sliding glass doors.
I’m out of breath and goosebumps have erupted over my arms and legs like I’m freezing. But I’m opposite. I’m hot…for him. My internal alarms are ringing while my heart is plummeting to my stomach. I sit back trying to calm the hell down, not paying any attention to him or his parents, or the fact that Lena is probably following him around like a puppy dog. Box breathing for the win.
A cool breeze kicks up once the boat starts moving. The horn sounds as we pull away from the dock and not even minutes later, the Italian sun is kissing me in all the right places, warming my soul. Well, it’s warming the only part that hasn’t been marinating for Roman Huxley.
Tom’s words from his latest letter ring in my head. “ Enjoy the moments you have with the people you choose to surround yourself with. Allow yourself to be happy.”
The gurgle of the engine drowns out people talking on the docks as we reverse. The water sloshes behind me and I allow my thoughts to drift.
What does happiness look like for me? Happiness is family. It’s enjoying my life. Having the option to get a tattoo without being reprimanded by someone. Getting a piercing without him telling me I’m too old. It’s laughing during a sunrise when I stayed up all night looking at the stars. It’s dancing without a care in the world, not caring what anybody thinks of the way I’m moving. It’s feeling the ability to be vulnerable, yet safe, in someone's presence. It’s being able to be the person I want to be when I’m with someone. It’s being forty and giving zero fucks about anything that doesn’t serve me.
I close my eyes and smile at the sunny sky. “Yes,” I whisper to myself.
A sensation washes over me, and I open my eyes. The sun looks a little brighter and the colors surrounding me look a little more vibrant. I’m turning forty, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks of who I am and the way I act. If it makes me happy, I’m going to do it.
As much as I hate to admit it, Patrick did put out my fire. He had a lovely soul, but his heart didn’t beat for me. Maybe his brain did, but his heart…it was never in it.
“I forgive you, Patrick, but it’s time,” I say into the horizon where the sky meets the sea.
I stand and smile one last time at the words I released. “That felt good.”
“What felt good?” Janine comes up from behind me, wearing an endearing smile.
“Finally saying goodbye.”