“Salt, you’re shredding my heart with a chainsaw.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad or anything. Saying this is like tossing it all in a box and throwing it in a fire. It helps, it really does.”
“If I could turn back—”
“You don’t have to turn anything back,” Wyatt said, propping himself up on an elbow so he could look down into Roman’s crystalized green orbs. He could stare into those eyes for the rest of eternity, finding a new facet to love about them with every day that passed.
“Thank you, Salt. For taking me back, for coming with me. I’ve built up a lot of scar tissue from people hurting me in my past, and I really don’t think I would have let anyone in, not after I felt like I lost the love of my life.” Roman took Wyatt’s hand and kissed each of his fingers. “But I’ve found him again, and I don’t need to let anyone else in as deep as I’ve let you.”
Tingles swirled through each of Wyatt’s fingers as Roman’s soft lips pressed against them. If he shut his eyes, he could imagine the plump white comforters underneath him turning into fluffy clouds, carrying the two men off into the sunset.
“I wonder what Angie and Scott are going to think about us getting back together,” Wyatt mused, thinking back to their two closest high school friends. He still spoke to them every now and then, their friendship being the kind that always bounced back after a quick conversation, no matter how much time had passed since the last one.
“Angie is probably going to laugh nervously and say something about how she always saw it coming, and Scott would slap us on our asses and say congratulations.”
“That’s actually—yeah, I think that’s on point.”
Roman put both hands behind his head and crossed his feet, his eyes somewhere around Wyatt’s lips. “When’s the last time you spoke to them?”
“A couple months, I think. You?”
“Years,” Roman said, expression dropping slightly. Wyatt didn’t want that, not tonight.
“We’ll have a mini reunion when this is all over,” he said, lying back down with his head on Roman’s chest. “What’s going to be the first thing you want to do once we have the tome?”
“Kiss you.”
“Obviously.”
“And lick, and suck, and most definitely fu—”
“Got it. After all that,” Wyatt said, glad that they were already on the same page.
“After I turn you into a sweaty, shaky, come-drenched mess—”
“Nice, very romantic—”
“—I’ll bring you into the shower, wash you off, kiss every part of you all over again.” Roman kissed Wyatt’s head. “And then I’ll make sure you and Julie are set up, make sure you two never have to worry about a damn thing. Then I’ll take you to our new home in…” Roman cocked his head, eyebrow arching.
“Are you looking for suggestions?”
“Yeah, obviously. It’s you and me from here on out, Salt.”
Wyatt liked the sound of that. They stayed up talking for another hour, going over their dream countries to live in, narrowing down potential beach homes and mountainside cabins and city-center high-rises. Wyatt still had a difficult time believing it all wasn’t a dream, even when sleep did finally overtake him.
Chapter 28
Roman Ashford
This was it. Today was the day they’d all been waiting for. The final stretch of their job, the finish line they were all salivating to cross.
The flight from Miami to LA wasn’t as celebratory as the one prior. They were silent this time around, sans champagne or cramped bathroom hookups. Instead, everyone was going over the plan, asking questions, poking holes, suggesting fixes, and trying to be as best prepared as they could be.
Roman did his best with keeping everyone on the same page. He sat next to Wyatt for the entire six-hour flight, holding his hand for most of it.
“You feeling okay?” Roman asked as they started their descent into LAX.
“I just can’t believe it’s all over after today.”
“Don’t think of it like that. Think of it like being a new beginning after today.”
Wyatt smiled, his cheeks rising and carrying those dimples with them. Roman was sure that if he were held at gunpoint and asked to recreate Wyatt’s freckles, he’d be able to do it with his eyes closed. He loved the little marks on either side of his face, perfectly symmetrical and perfectly Wyatt.
Once off the plane, the Rainbow’s Seven went directly to the bathrooms, where the crew changed into their outfits. Roman and Wyatt both walked out, having swapped their sweats for suits, Roman ironing out a wrinkle from his maroon tie, the silver clip catching the white airport lights.
“You look good,” Wyatt said, eyes going from Roman’s shining leather wingtips and up to his styled hair, which had grown out since his last haircut.
“And you look great, Salt.” Roman took a step back so he could properly appreciate the look. Mimic had somehow managed to get them tailored Gucci suits for the job in less time than it took for an Amazon delivery, explaining that her museum curators were going to be the best-damn-looking curators on this side of the globe.