Page 69 of Forever Fighting
He laughs and kisses my forehead. “I got you a cheeseburger and fries.”
“Thank god.” We sit down and it’s not strained anymore. It’s us. It’s us chatting and laughing and telling stories and me checking his hand and us drinking and eating.
And when it’s time for us to go to sleep, there is no tension. It’s not awkward. We each take turns in the bathroom and once we settle into bed, he simply wraps his arms around me, lets out a contented sigh, and that’s that.
He’s not pushing me, I realize. He’s giving me time to acclimate. Acclimate to what, I’m still not sure, but I’m choosing not to overthink anything.
Instead, I fall into the blissful abandon of sleep.
I stir,chasing the tail end of my dream, not wanting to wake up just yet. Everything is that delicious sort of heavy, the sweet grogginess that comes after a good night’s sleep and an incredible dream. I don’t get these often. Hardly ever, actually.
Working in the ER, you see the worst of the worst. No one comes to you on their best day and sometimes you save a life and sometimes you lose one. Or it’s just fucking sad. You have to teach yourself to disassociate, but even when you do, there are remnants you can’t fully excise. A patient who sticks with you.
So to sleep the way I slept last night while dreaming of stars and the ocean feels like a gift. One I’m not ready to let go of just yet.
Until I hear a sound in the other room. A voice. Roman talking.
“No, she’s still asleep,” he says. “How are you feeling? How’s the pregnancy?”
Skylar. He’s talking to Sky.
“Good.” A grunt. “He better fucking be or you’ll have to let me kill him finally.” He’s silent for a beat, though I know he was talking about her ex. “I know. I spoke to Crew.” He laughs. “Quinn sees hockey players, not football. No way she’ll work for the Rebels unless forced. She doesn’t want to work with her brothers or parents.” More silence followed by, “Things are… good. The restaurant is coming along. The resort is incredible and we’re having a good time. No, I won’t elaborate on what that means, and my voice does not sound funny.” He huffs. “Stop fishing, Sky.” The doorbell rings. “Our breakfast is here. I’ll have her call you when she gets up. Bye. Love you too.”
I hear him move around and answer the door, speaking in Spanish to whoever is there. More noise, then the room service guy is gone, and I hear Roman head toward the bedroom. For a moment, I lie here, debating if I want to be a child and pretend to be asleep still.
He chuckles by the entryway. “You’re the worst faker.”
Busted.
“I wasn’t giving it my all. I was still undecided,” I admit as I roll over and open my eyes to see him. He’s shirtless, damn him, in only a pair of track shorts. He’s also sweaty like he went for a run or worked out. “What time did you wake up?”
He smirks. “Dawn.”
“You didn’t wake me.”
“If I woke you, I would have fucked you or had my mouth between your legs. You looked like you needed the sleep, so I went for a run and to the restaurant for a bit.”
I belt out an incredulous laugh and flop onto my back, my hands on my face. “Roman! You can’t say that to me.”
“But I thought it was our honeymoon.”
“Oh my god! Shut up.”
He chuckles. “Come on. Get up. Breakfast just got here.”
“Your love language is feeding me.”
“My love language is food. Feeding you is a bonus. Come join me. Unless you want me to join you.”
“I do, which is why I’ll get up.”
“I figured. It’s why I gave you space this morning and will wait till you tell me you’re ready for more. But, Braelyn, I want more. So go have your freak-out, and after that, we can eat and talk if you want. Then I might kiss you and see where that goes.”
Without another word, the man leaves me here to have my freak-out. Which I do. I smother a squeal and an oh my god, what the fuck am I doing? Then I pull myself together, use the bathroom, wash up, and follow the smell of coffee and bacon into the living area. Roman is sitting at the table with his phone in his hand and a mug of coffee in his other.
“In case you didn’t hear before, Skylar called.”
“I heard.” I take the seat opposite him, pour myself some coffee, and make myself a plate of food. “She sounded like she’s suspicious.”
