Page 45 of Forever Fighting
“No.” She rolls over onto her side and stares down at me. “It wasn’t your fault, and you have to forgive yourself already for things that happened beyond your control. I know you’ve been carrying this guilt around with you that it was, and you’ve never listened to me before when I told you it wasn’t. I wasn’t out there that day with you, but you told us what happened. I spoke to Nash before you went out on the water. Sailing was his thing. Not yours. You didn’t make the storm come in, and you didn’t make the waves capsize your sailboat. You held on to him and did everything you could to save both of you. What happened was a tragicaccident. I never blamed you, nor did your parents. If Adam is using that awful day and what happened to Nash against you, that makes him an absolute bastard above and beyond what he’s already done. Life took Nash from all of us. You owe him nothing, Roman. Let’s go walk around.”
She climbs off the bed, leaving me here as she goes for her suitcase and then into the bathroom. The door clicks shut, and I blow out an uneven breath. I’ve worked to forgive myself. I’ve told myself there wasn’t anything I could do to save him that day. That I tried, and he was taken from me. It’s one thing to tell yourself something and another to believe it. Especially when your baby brother is gone and you couldn’t save him and you wish to God it were you who was taken and not him.
Adam knew this and used it against me because he cheated and doesn’t know how to live with the consequences of his own actions.
Braelyn’s right.
I owe him nothing.
And as much as I hate the idea of going behind a friend’s back, all’s fair in true love, marriage, and war.
14
ROMAN
We both change, me into shorts and a T-shirt and her into a sundress that shows off the smooth skin of her back and neck beneath her hair that she’s put up into a ponytail. We walk the grounds, and she takes a million pictures, half of them of me.
“Blackmail?” I quip after I catch her doing it for the fifth or so time.
“Evidence,” she corrects, showing me the screen where she caught me smiling. “Roman Fritz on vacation, enjoying himself.”
“Here. Let’s do one together.” I snatch her phone from her because my arms are longer, and I twist us so our backs are to the ocean and snap a selfie. I’m not exactly a selfie guy, but I want this one, and I forward it to myself when an email comes in from my business manager. At first, I expect it to be about my housing situation in Frankfurt, which I haven’t quite figured out yet. But it’s not.
I read through it quickly and sigh.
“What?”
“That TV woman I met in Vegas? She’s reaching out to my people about the show she wants me on.”
“The blonde? She’s a persistent one.”
I smirk at her. “Sound familiar? Your ex is worse.”
“What can I say? We’re both desirable entities.”
I pause. I could tell her the woman is from Adam’s company, but what’s the point? She’s in a good mood, having a good time, and I don’t want to ruin that. Plus, I’m not taking the show, so it doesn’t matter which company she works for.
“I think it’s margarita time,” I announce.
“Along with chips and salsa time.”
“Absolutely.”
Afternoon flows into evening, and we head to one of the resort’s restaurants surrounded by gardens.
“Chef Fritz, we’re honored to have you and your guest dining with us,” the waiter says. “Our executive chef would be delighted to prepare a special tasting menu, if you’d allow it.”
I glance at Braelyn, who nods excitedly. I turn back to him. “Sure. We’d love that.”
“Excellent. To start, we have an amuse-bouche of grilled octopus, roasted tomatoes, cactus, lime, and cilantro. We’ve paired it with our house tequila. Enjoy.”
The moment he’s gone, Brae leans across the table to me. “Does this happen everywhere you go now? All this special treatment?”
“Only in nice restaurants or if I’m recognized, which happens way more in Boston than anywhere else,” I admit. “Otherwise, it’s usually only if they’ve been warned I’m coming.”
“Warned?” Her eyebrows rise.
“I’m opening a restaurant here. It’s a chef-to-chef thing. Especially chefs with certain public personas.” I shrug, uncomfortable as always when this sort of thing happens to me. “It’sjust business. They want to be able to say I dined here and loved it.”
