When We Meet Again

39. Waverly

CHAPTER 39

WAVERLY

Fortunate: I fit into a dress that I bought when I was in my early twenties. It’s fits like a glove. Damn!

Unfortunate:Nylons were created to hide our leg hair and veins. They were also created to make us women suffer.

I haven’t stepped foot in the Huxley house since the funeral. Instead of the eerie, mourning silence that filled the rooms, there is Nocturne in C Sharp playing. Instead of a sea of black, there is a pallet of bright colors adorning men and women of all ages. A far cry from almost two years ago.

Harold and Janine are wearing full smiles, and Janine has Patrick’s arm, as if she’s never letting him go again. Until a set of gray eyes find me and he extracts himself from his mother’s firm grip. He looks good.

“Glad you could make it,” Patrick says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I straighten the strap of my purse on my shoulder. “Yes! The FOMO is real.”

“FOMO?” His eyebrows pinch.

“Fear of missing out,” I laugh. I probably sound like a dumbass to him. He always refused to learn modern “lingo.”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. I try not to be rude and look around too hard for Roman, but everything in me wants to see the man I haven’t seen in months. The Huxley brother I’m really here to see.

“He’s upstairs. Should be down soon.” I pull my lips between my teeth, trying to fight back my questions. Who’s he up there with? Is he seeing anyone?

“Can we talk somewhere?” Patrick asks before I can say anything.

“I thought we could wait until after the party?” I glance around at all the people, only recognizing a few. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“It won’t take long.” He holds out his hand for me to take. I stare at it. Something that once was my life raft is now so foreign. He waves it, trying again, except I don’t take it. Instead, I lead a path through the crowd and find the back patio empty.

I step out onto the hard wood into the early night sky, glancing at the chair Roman was sitting in almost two years ago. Patrick stops right outside of the door once he closes it, as if he’s afraid to get too close. I’ve been dreading this conversation, but I guess now’s as good a time as any…

Silence washes over us. I’m completely unsure on where to even begin.

“I saw your bucket list checked off on the fridge.” He finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah.” I rub my thumb nail against the wood railing, trying to distract myself. “Roman helped

me with those. Time was ticking.” I laugh awkwardly.

“He’s a good man, Waverly.” Patrick steps toward me, leaning against the balcony. “I’m sorry.”

A long breath of air leaves him.

“Sorry? About what?” I’m confused. What could he possibly be sorry about?

“While I was staying at our—your apartment…I hope I didn’t lead you on at all.” Um, what? His hands drag down his face. “I came to the apartment that night I got back to tell you this, but I guess I just fell back into old habits. And it was so shitty. I was never going to ask to get back together with you. I should have never treated you like that. Not only because it was wrong, but because you aren’t mine to treat any type of way.”

Another swipe of hands over his face. “Ugh. This is all coming out wrong.”

“I…You…What?” I blink rapidly, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. I mean, I feel like I knew there was no us . And I don’t want to be with him . But it’s a slight blow to the ego to hear him say it so bluntly.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and grabs mine. “I know Roman told you about the night we met and what really went down—how he wanted to meet you, but I took that from him.”

I nod, unable to speak.

“You and I, we never had what you and Roman had. There was something…different there. And instead of bowing out, I dragged us on for six painful years. I mean, they weren’t all painful…”

“No. I was there, too. I could have ended things. It doesn’t all fall on you.” I take my hand from his and pull my hair to the side, over one shoulder.

“No! Hear me out, Waverly. I need to say this.” His palm comes between us, silencing me, and pokes the burning coal within me. “I pushed Roman away…after he turned twenty-two…after that night he watched the sunset with you on the top of the hill at the fair. Your head was laying on his shoulder. I watched the whole thing while his date was chewing her stupid caramel apple in my ear.” I want to deny everything, to save face. But I also want to laugh because he’s right. She chewed like a horse.

I can’t argue with what he’s saying, so I let him continue, “You stayed up there for a while after the sunset. That damn song was playing, the one you both used to love so much… I knew. Everything in me knew he’d told you how he felt that night. And everything in me knew you were too loyal to me to tell him you felt the same way.” His voice breaks. “Even though you did. You always did, and I was too pig-headed to admit it.”

“Patrick…” I lay a palm on his forearm. I don’t know why. Maybe to comfort him? I see a figure in the doorway, and before I look over, I can sense who it is. My body starts buzzing and my adrenaline starts to pump through me.

Roman.

He gives me one dip of his head and walks away. The mere sight of him ignites that fire inside of me. It’s something I never felt with Patrick. I’ll find Roman soon.

“I should have never said yes to your proposal, Patrick.” Blunt, but needed. His face falls at my admission. “I wasn’t myself with you. I don’t think I ever was, to be honest.” Tears line my eyes, threatening to fall.

It is not my party, and I will not cry if I want to.

“I had an affair, Waverly.” I drop his hand. An affair. I feel myself pale. No matter the circumstances, nobody likes the word affair.

My throat is dry, and it hurts to push out the next words. I look around for water, or any type of drink. I look above for a possible rain cloud, but I come up flat.

“Care to elaborate?”

“The woman I stayed with, she took care of me. Nursed me back to health…” A smile creeps over his face like he’s genuinely happy when he thinks about her. I feel nauseous. “We slept together, a lot, and I fell in love with her, Waverly.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, and his sight flits to the sky.

“Well,” I start, utterly flabbergasted at his confession. “How was it an affair if you said you forgot about me?”

I feel an odd bout of aggression coming on, and I’m not sure what to do with it.

“I did forget, until I didn’t, and yet it didn’t stop me,” he states before he starts chewing on his cheek.

Knowing the feelings I have developed toward his brother all these years doesn’t exactly put me in a position to be as furious as I feel, but it’s kind of NOT REALLY the same thing at all. “So, I just want to make sure I have this right. You die, but not really. You have amnesia. You start remembering all the things, but not me,” I clarify as I wave my hands around. “Then when you start remembering that you had a fiancée, you slept with her anyway?” I blink repeatedly, eyes wide.

“Basically, yes.”

He says basically, yes . Basically. Yes. A laugh flies from my mouth at the utter shit he’s spewing.

Breathe. He isn’t the one for you. He never was. End this conversation. Close it up. And move the fuck on.

“I mean, you were dead…and I started something with your brother. Even though it wasn’t technically cheating because you were dead. ” I emphasize that last part.

“I…do you love her?” What the actual fuck do I care? Who the hell knows, but this is quite the bomb to drop.

“I do. I love her.” He turns to me once more. “She’s pregnant…with our baby. And I’ve just stayed around…well, because I told her I had some things to wrap up.”

“Baby,” I repeat in a whisper. Forget the rain cloud. Where are the aliens? Beam me up, Scotty. Or him. Take him, not me. “Things to wrap up ?” I scoff.

Patrick rests his hand on my arm. “I’ll be moving there at the end of the month.” Holy hell.

“You didn’t want kids.” Instead of saying, “ Gee, Patrick, I’m happy for you. Have a great life,” I choose to dive deeper into this circus.

“I didn’t…until?—”

I cut him off, “You just didn’t want them with me. Am I right?” A tear falls and I start to walk back into the party before I clock this dude in the face. I don’t even know why I’m crying . But he stops me by grabbing my elbow.

“Waverly, please…I didn’t mean for this to happen,” his voice quiets.

I whip my arm from his embrace. “Patrick, maybe someday I’ll understand why you were the way you were with me, but that is not today.” I dab under my eyes to make sure my makeup is right. “I really hope you enjoy your life. And I hope you’re happy.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I really mean that.”

With those final words, I leave him in my wake, slamming the sliding glass door a little harder than I mean to.

“Hey.” That voice. I turn to see Roman. Damn! Has he gotten even more handsome?

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking past me to Patrick, who is doing God knows what behind me.

My greens meet his dark grays and for the first time in years, I feel like I can finally let go and just be . I can breathe.

His hands rest on my arms and I blink away the tears threatening to fall as I take a few deep breaths under his simple touch. Our eyes lock.

“Happy birthday.” I allow my gaze to drop to his lips. The sight of him instantly washes away all thoughts about the other brother from my mind… like a tsunami.

Something about him makes me feel safe . Seen. God, have I missed him.

“Oh,” I reel in my clandestine thoughts and hold up his gift that I left sitting on the table, which he takes with a beaming smile.

Our fingers graze momentarily, and every physical feeling I felt with him comes flooding back . “Thank you. Although, you didn’t have to.” He sets the gift bag down and pulls out the tissue paper. “I’m just glad you’re here.” He grabs the large bottle of Jameson 18 Year I gifted him.

“Damn, Kensi!” His admiration toward the bottle is like a kid getting his favorite Christmas toy. Eyes bright with excitement. “This! I haven’t tried this yet. I heard it’s some good shit!”

I laugh at his words. “Yes. You deserve the good shit , Rome.”

He gently places the bottle on the back of the table against the wall and pulls me into a perfect bear hug, nestling me into his chest like this is the only place I’m destined to be in life. Like this is the endgame.

“Waverly?” Oh jeez. I turn out of Roman’s embrace, despite feeling like I could have started hibernating in his heat, only to see Lena.

“Hi, Lena.” I look at Roman and back to her, demanding my thoughts not to spiral into a negative space. “How are you?”

She pulls me farther away from Roman and into a tight hug. Well, as tight as her thin arms can squeeze me.

“Do you mind if I steal you away for just a second?” She looks past me to the most beautiful set of dark sterling eyes for his approval, which he grants with a reluctant nod and turns away.

My sight follows him as Lena pulls me away to the sofa in the study. Somewhere I’ve never been before. This must be Harold’s little nook. It screams organized chaos with books everywhere. Papers in stacks on the desk, on the floor, in the chair. I smile to myself knowing we are one in the same.

“I want to thank you.” My attention darts back to Lena, curious as to why she feels the need to thank me. “Your words… on the boat, they helped me. I know being an influencer is great for now because the Internet is the place to be, but I decided I wanted something different for myself.”

“That’s amazing, Lena. I’m so happy for you!” And I surprise myself when I realize that I genuinely mean it.

I grab her hands, her young, smooth-skinned, wrinkle-free hands, “What are your plans? You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.” I shake my head, embarrassed about how excited I am that I helped someone.

“I decided to go back to school at the Art Institute for fashion design and photography. And I wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t light a fire under my ass with your wisdom-y speech.” I love how we’re creating new words here.

“I’m happy to give you as many wisdom-y speeches as you need.” I pat her hand, something my mom always does for me. “I’m proud of you. Will you let me know how it goes?”

Lena nods and leans into me. “One more thing,” she whispers, looking around so nobody can hear. “Don’t break his heart.” Leaning away, she adds, “He’s usually the one doing the heartbreaking, but when it comes to you…I think you may be the only woman with the power to break his.” With that, she doses me with a small smile, stands, and walks away.

My composure is now a fragile shell around me. The overwhelming inundation of feelings happening all at once is a losing battle. Tears stream down my face.

Relief.

Hurt.

Happiness.

Pure love.

All of it. Months worth of pent-up everything falls from my burning eyes onto my nylons. I lean my head forward and cradle it in my hands.

“Waverly? Is that you?” Harold bends over, trying to put a name to the splotchy face.

I look up at him, unable to stop the tears from bathing my cheeks. “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” I wipe my cheeks with full hands. “I was just going to head to the restroom.” But I don’t move. Instead, the tears come out faster—with a vengeance.

He sits down next to me on the plush, hunter-green sofa and rests his arm over my shoulders. “Want to talk about it? Father to daughter?”

More tears. I haven’t been able to indulge in a father-daughter talk in so long, my heart bleeds for one, and I waste no time diving into my innermost fuckedness.

“It’s everything, Harold. I know he’s your son, and I’m sorry…but I’m relieved it’s over with Patrick, I’m happy he’s alive, and a part of me will always love him, but the news he dropped on me today—it still hurts.”

He lets out a grunt and rubs his jaw with his hands. “He told you about the baby.” Harold starts whispering under his breath, “I told him to wait until the party was over. What am I going to do with him?”

“It’s not the fact that he’s having a baby with someone, but the fact that he was adamant about not having kids. Refused to budge on the topic. He wasted my time! My childbearing years are basically up.” I keep rambling. “I’m happy that Roman invited me here…I’m…I think I…” My breath starts coming out quicker, more ragged as those three Holy Grail of words sit on the tip of my tongue.

“Nope. Don’t say it.” Harold stands abruptly, raising his voice, and causing me to pause. An inkling of fear passes through me. The last thing I want to do is piss off the father of the man I’ve fallen for. “The first person who needs to hear what you have to say is Roman , not me.” A smile spreads across his face as his light gray eyes find mine. “Either way, Waverly, like I’ve said before, you’re always welcome here. No matter which son you end up with. Even if you end up with the woman next door.” Tears well in his eyes. “You’re like the daughter we never had.”

That alone releases the flood gates once again. There is no hope for me going back to the party without looking like I was just on a four-day bender. My hairline is dampened by my tears, and my eyes red and bloodshot from the crying; not to mention the redness of my nose from blowing it. This look will totally win Roman over.

I get up quickly to hug Harold. His hugs are a clone of Roman’s. All encompassing. Full of protection. This is a hug that a father gives his daughter, one of love.

The tears have slowed significantly. It’s amazing what type of healing power a hug can offer.

“Thank you,” I wipe the remnants of tears from my cheeks, unable to salvage my eye makeup.

“Now, my only advice I can give you is this: don’t let anyone else tell you how you should feel.” He gives a curt nod. “Short and sweet.” With that, Harold leaves me alone in his study, basking in my own self-awareness.

That was a bit vague, but I’ll do what I can with it.

All of this is making it hard for me to breathe. Not to mention the pantyhose. I hate them. I feel like I’m suffocating. I slide them off and throw them in the trashcan next to Harold’s desk. “Nobody needs to feel confined more than they already are.” Once they’re off, I feel free.

I pull my shit together. Fix what’s left of my makeup, which is a dusting of contour, and dab a little lip gloss over my already pink lips.

When I open the door to the party, Roman is standing in the hallway. One hand in his pocket, and the other rubbing his stubble-filled jaw line. His short, dark hair, wavy in all the right places, has him looking like a god in the dimmed lighting. My body is fully aware of how handsome the man before me is.

“Shouldn’t the birthday boy be out celebrating?” I try to sound lighthearted, but instead it comes out all nasally from crying.

“This birthday boy has always been where you were.” His words make my stomach flip with butterflies. Although, they aren’t technically true.

I start to pass him, hoping he’ll follow me into a crowd of people. I can’t trust myself to keep my hands from him right now. “You know I’ve missed your past three birthdays.”

One thing that is never scarce in the Huxley’s house is seating areas. Whether it’s sofas, chairs, hammocks, recliners, there is always a place to sit. So I do. I plop down onto a tan loveseat, leaving plenty of room for Roman who instead, chooses to sit smack next to me, leaving enough room on the other side of him for an extra person on this two-person sofa.

“But you’re here now,” he says in a low voice, his eyes becoming dark and stormy. Dangerous territory. My gaze drops to his lips for an instant and bounces back to his eyes, except I find him staring at my lips. We stay in that moment. As if I’m daring him to kiss me. Something we haven’t done since the night after Patrick came back home. We start to lean into teach other, ignoring the birthday bustle around us until a balloon popping brings us back to the moment and he retreats, putting a little space on the sofa.

Of course.

“And you didn’t miss anything. After my twenty-first birthday, I usually just had a small lunch with Mom, Dad, and Patrick.” His hands are clasped together as he leans on his knees. “I used to ask Patrick to invite you.”

“He never said anything.” It comes out more as a whisper as I’m trying not to let the anger toward Patrick ruin what’s left of my life.

“I figured as much.” Roman exhales. “Listen…will you stay til the end?”

“CAKE!” Janine shouts from the kitchen. “We need the birthday boy in the dining room!”

Roman runs his hands through his thick head of black hair, and groans loudly. “She is making me feel like I’m turning ten again. This is excessive.”

I stand and place my hand on his chest. “Roman, your mom has been through a hell of a lot over the past year and a half. She had to bury a son. And even though that son is in the next room, the stress she went through…I mean, no parent should have to ever go through that.” His gaze locks onto mine, glossing over with unshed tears. “Let her sing to you. Let her celebrate you.”

Roman cups my cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along my cheekbones. “How are you so amazing?” His brows pinch and his tongue darts out to his lips. A sign that’s all too clear that there is a kiss incoming in 3-2?—

“There he is! Roman, we need you to come in to blow out your candles.” Patrick clears his throat, turning away, after giving me a tight smile.

Roman’s hands fall to his sides, but not before he taps the tip of my nose. “To be continued.”

And I’m left with cold cheeks from the lack of his touch. Awkwardly, I peer around trying to find something to do, because right now, I feel like a child on a swing set who can’t find their guardian.

A few minutes later, due to a match-meeting-candle malfunction, Janine carries out the cake with one hand, shielding the candles from the air with the other.

“Happy birthday to you…” she starts, and everyone joins in. This is quite a pitchy bunch, and it causes me to giggle instead of singing.

Roman catches me through the light of the candles in front of him and points to me. “Waverly isn’t singing, Mom!”

My mouth falls open and a laugh bursts out of me. Friends and family are still singing and ignoring the antics. “Did you just tattle on me? To your mom?!” I slap my hand over my heart in fake hurt and he laughs. Dear God Almighty, is he the most handsome man already, but when he smiles? I feel it in my soul. A deep, penetrating ardor that’s only been familiar in Roman’s presence.

The rest of the voices fall to the end of the song, and Janine’s face is covered in a smile that only mothers give to their children. One full of unconditional love. “Blow out the candles, honey.”

Roman’s face tips forward ever so slightly, causing his dark hair to fall over his forehead, close to his eyes. His dark brows furrow just enough before he looks at me through his beautiful, long black lashes. A quiet gasp escapes me. His look is feral. Nothing innocent about it. Nothing that is appropriate for being in the company of family, or friends. Or Patrick. I rub my thighs together trying to relieve some of the ache that’s been building since he almost kissed me, and the tips of his mouth curl up in a purely evil grin. He then brings his lips into the shape of an “O” and blows out the candles, gaze still locked onto me. It looks like it’s happening in slow motion, pulling me under his seduction.

Well, shit.

“Time for dessert,” one of his uncles blurts from the other room. Dessert, indeed.

“What’d you wish for?” Harold slaps Roman on the shoulder while Janine plucks the charred candles from the cake.

“To dive headfirst into a dessert that’s been long overdue.” He beams over in my direction, his eyes boring into mine and I gulp.

My face turns a deep shade of red while partygoers start lining up for a piece of cake. There is no way to mistake his innuendo. Either everyone’s choosing to ignore it, or they are in a complete trance over this cake that looks like it’s from the local grocer.

The party continues around us, the older guests beginning to filter out, leaving the younger crowd behind… And myself, to get rowdy and close down this party. A yawn haunts me as I hover over the veggie tray, and I try to choke it back, which causes my face to distort before I cover it.

“It’s okay to yawn.” Patrick laughs from beside me.

“I know,” I snap, tensing at his proximity. This man is here giving me permission to yawn. Pffft.

He turns his entire body to face me.

A girl was just trying to grab some carrots and ranch.

“I’m going to head out, but I wanted to apologize again.” His face appears genuine; he wears a frown and sad eyes, and the color in his cheeks has faded from earlier. But every part of me knows he’s had an easy out our entire relationship. Never apologized. Never took responsibility for his actions. That’s why it’s nearly impossible for me to hold back.

I’m done. Done.

I toss the carrot back onto the tray with force and turn to the man who once had my heart. “Patrick” My eyes close and I inhale a deep breath. I ground myself. Smelling the lavender Janine has laying throughout the house. Tasting the minty gum I have in my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue. Feeling the velvet tablecloth under my fingers. Hearing the music shift from upbeat rock to a slow, alternate pop song that I can only describe as an instrumental soundtrack to my life. “I’ve already forgiven you.” I’m still upset he lied, but I lied to myself, too. For six…damn…years. So I can’t really be too unforgiving. “You have to forgive yourself. Everyone has a past, and I’m yours and you’re mine.”

His brows pinch as if he wanted to hear something different. Well, he’s not getting what he’s looking for from me.

“I’m going to go find Roman.” I give him a tight smile. Patrick says nothing but gives me a short nod and walks away.

I turn the other way and run right into a brick wall. “Hey.” His low voice rumbles into my very core.

“Can we talk?” I see his hands reach for my arms but fall back to his side.

We haven’t really gotten the chance to catch up properly despite our brief run-ins tonight. So much has happened since we’ve last hung out, and he’s the only person I’m dying to tell. His gray eyes stare at me, begging for me to say something.

“You remember the hill—” I don’t get to finish before he does it for me.

“Our hill? With the bench.” He nods, a small smirk pulls at his lips. Oh, he knows the bench.

I exhale air instead of words. “Ha. Yes. So…I bought the land. The county owned it, but it’s been abandoned and run down for the past few years… since…”

“It closed the same summer we went.”

“Right. Well, it’s mine now. You’re looking at the owner of Angels Ranch and Sanctuary.” His mouth falls and his hands finally land on my mine. I’ve been aching for him to touch me, even if it’s simply holding hands. “I mean, it will mostly be for dogs, but I figured we will take in other animals too once we figure out spacing,” I start rambling in excitement.

“The acreage of the land is insane! Forty acres! Do you understand what we can do with that space?! How many dogs we can save from euthanasia?” It’s been a lifelong dream of mine. Those Sarah McLachlan commercials of sick and abandoned animals will be a distant memory once I get this ranch up and running. Or so I pray.

“Kensi… That’s amazing.” One side of his mouth tilts higher than the other like he’s trying to contain his excitement. He totally has a secret obsession with dogs. Roman would always come by the shelter on the days I would work—before he disappeared—and he would play with the dogs, take them for walks. I always wondered how he was running a boat sailing business if he was always rolling around in the grass with the dogs.

“Oh!” I almost forgot. “I hired a builder…I’m designing the layout of my house, which will also be on the piece of land. It’s all so bittersweet! You could even—” I stop myself, and my eyes fall to my feet. I’m already planning on him being a part of my life. For all I know, he’s dating someone in secret.

Finally chancing a glance at his face, he has an eyebrow raised. “I could even…” A slow dart of his tongue sweeps across his lower lip. Something I’m hyperaware of. And so is the saturation between my thighs.

“You…if you want…can come by. It’s close to your business.” I stop. What I really wanted to say was he could move in. But is this a conversation I want to have right now? Moving in after not seeing him for months? Slow your roll, Waverly.

As a forty-year-old woman, I’ve learned that relationships, friendships—they all have significantly different dynamics. While Patrick and I waited four years to move in together, the idea of living with him was never crucial. I was fine on the slow track with that man. But with Roman, I want to do it all. I want to make up for lost time. Forever is not long enough.

God spent extra time on the man in front of me. Somehow his happiness is contagious. It always has been. There is a special glint in his eyes. That means he’s got something on his mind. “I’d love to talk more about coming by. ”

Oh shit .

“My parents went to bed. Join me on the deck?” Roman and I are toe to toe, inhaling each other’s exhales.

“Yes.” It comes out breathy and wanting. His closeness is like a drug, lulling me into euphoria, and he hasn’t even touched me yet—hands don’t count.

The man in front of me has somehow unlocked my heart once again. A deep gray gaze, a soft caress, boring into me with silent expectation.

I’m all yours, Roman Huxley.