Wyatt laughed, shaking his head. “It’s wild to me how my story started in a Piggly Wiggly store, and yours started in a dreamy vacation spot while floating around on a yacht with a wild goat. God, our lives are so different.”
“Not anymore, Salt.”
“No… I guess not, huh?” Wyatt turned to look out the window.
“Do you regret coming along? Saying yes when I asked for your help?”
He sucked on his bottom lip, and Roman had the sudden and icy-cold fear that he’d say yes. That Wyatt would admit to thinking this was all a huge mistake and that he wanted off the crazy ride the second the opportunity presented itself. Roman would never let go of the guilt.
“I don’t. Maybe at first, but I’ve realized that everything is happening like it’s supposed to. I’m a big control freak, you know that, but I’ve been able to let some of that go. And I’ve let my regrets go, too.”
Roman swallowed. His next question was heavy but sincere. “Did you ever think of me as a regret?”
Wyatt sucked in a breath. He licked his lips, looked out the window, shook his head. Roman watched every single twitch, every minute shift in body posture. His heart raced as if he were in the middle of a gunfight.
“If I’m completely honest… yes. There was a point in my life that I wished we had never met. But, also being completely honest here, that didn’t last very long. Even when I was sulking in my own depression, going to the same shitty jobs day in and day out, just trying to keep mine and my sister’s heads above water, even then I didn’t regret you. All I really did was regret not looking for you.”
The words rang true, and Roman felt the brakes kick on somewhere around his left and right ventricles, his pulse slowing back to a regular rate. “You were always great about letting go of grudges.”
“I just hate drama. Why hold on to all the negative when you can just focus on the positive? Like being here with you, on a train to freaking London. My high school sweetheart turned college enemy turned adult… something.”
“Adult boyfriend?”
Wyatt cocked his head, eyes narrowing and smile growing. “Yeah, yeah, I think that works.”
There, as simple—and as complicated—as that, they were together. Officially. Like back when they were starry-eyed kids walking through their high school halls. Their lives took many twists and turns to get there, but there they were. Roman reached for Wyatt’s hand, twining their fingers together. The conductor came on through the speakers and announced they were only a half hour away from the St. Pancras Station, their stop in London.
They spent the rest of the train ride reminiscing about their first few dates and talking about recreating them, glowing in their new-boyfriend status, both of them laughing at anything and smiling as if they’d each won the lotto. Roman soaked it in, bathing in the warm happiness that surrounded them. He understood exactly how powerful these moments were and how fleeting they could sometimes be. How life enjoyed playing tricks, taking as much as it gave, pulling out the rug to reveal the floor underneath was a trap door full of lava.
The train dinged and slowed to a stop, just as Wyatt and Roman were recalling a scandalous encounter they’d had in a hotel hot tub. Mimic stood and walked over to them, a book tucked under her arm and a knowing smile playing on her face.
“You guys had a good ride?”
“Very,” Roman said. “Now, let’s go steal ourselves that page.”
Chapter 22
Wyatt Hernandez
Boyfriends.
Again.
Wyatt had to admit he was surprised, probably the most surprised he’d been by anything on this job yet. He didn’t think that title would be coming, even though their physical chemistry clearly hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had actually grown more intense. The passage of time and the physical space that separated them made it all the more sweeter when that space was annihilated, when their bodies were united all over again.
It was a second chance; not many relationships were given those. He never imagined his being one of them, but he was so very glad it was.
The trio walked down a narrow street lined with townhomes, turning a corner and finding themselves next to a local deli with its storefront painted a deep blue, a row of restaurants and pubs following it, broken apart by a bright green cross advertising a pharmacy (and not a dispensary like Wyatt initially thought). Mimic led the pack, her slicked-backed hair falling in a sheet of inky black down to her shoulders, a trendy pair of sunglasses covering her eagle-like eyes. The bright red of her lip popped against the dark black of her jacket and pants, a huge contrast to the turquoise-worshipping wedding planner she’d been portraying just hours earlier.