Before Him

“Inevitable. Amazing. A starter for a lifetime of kisses.”

My throat tightens as I smooth my skirt over my knees as though this will somehow solidify my determination. “But we shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t we?” I think he says as his hand grasps the back of my stool, swinging me bodily to face him. I gasp as his lips meet mine in a kiss that’s more stealth than finesse. “Some things are inevitable.” His voice is a sandpapery whisper against my ear. “No matter how many times you try to send me away, like the sea to the shore, I’ll just keep coming back.” There’s truth and promise in his words. Then with a rush of air, he pulls back. “Do you know what date it nearly is?” He straightens, then pulls at his cuffs. It’s an almost dizzying change of direction. “It’s nearly our anniversary. And, do you know, we’ve never been on a date.”

“Roman, we aren’t—” Together anymore, I don’t want to say.

“I have our son’s permission. I should’ve listened to him when he said to go the movie route.”

“I don’t even know what to do with the fact you’ve even had this conversation—”

“I don’t think candy and flowers would help me right now, but I just need you to give me a chance. Give me this evening.”

God, how I want to. I’d give him every moment of every day if I could. But I have to remember the bigger picture because Roman and I, we’re not meant to be. I’ve made too many mistakes to deserve happiness with him. Even so, the fact that the pair had kept this secret, that Wilder had given his father pointers, it’s just a little too lovely to pretend to be angry about.

So bittersweet.

“What would you do with this evening?”

“I’m gonna win you over, obviously.” I give a little laugh at his unbridled arrogance. “Win your heart. It’s the only kind of movie experience I want.” Roman stands then, pulling out his wallet. He throws a couple of bills on the bar and holds out his hand. “Coming?”

“I didn’t say I was giving you this evening.”

“But you are.” His fingers curl. “Chop, chop!”

“Where are we going?” Because was there ever really any doubt he’d be leaving without me?

“It’s a surprise.” Honestly, it’s hard to think of where we might be going when I’m being tugged along by this large, warm hand. It seems my brain is fifty percent mush and fifty percent raging hormones. “Be audacious,” he says once we’re out in the cool, dark night. He slides his free hand into his jacket and pulls out a pen. There’s a bus stop on the opposite side of the road with a nearby bench emblazoned by the branding of Mookatill’s most popular real estate agent.

Tammy Garner. She’ll get you moving!

“Sounds like an advert for a laxative,” Roman murmurs, making me giggle. My ring finger tickles as he swipes up my left hand and begins marking it with black ink.

“What—why?” He’d made some tentative mentions about getting me something sparkly when I’m ready, but that was before we broke up.

Before he kissed me again. And I kissed him back. Lord, this is such a mess.

“Let’s call it a placeholder,” he adds as I open my mouth to protest. With a fleeting kiss to my knuckles, we’re on the move again.

“Where are we going?” And why am I going with him?

“It’s a surprise.” He throws me a teasing glance. “I think you’ll like it.”

It isn’t long before we’re standing in front of a narrow building with a black door, and Roman is smiling like a crazy person. A good-looking crazy person. I try not to stare at the way his jacket hugs his biceps and how the placket of his shirt lies flat against his chest. Suit porn never looked so delicious. I’m suddenly all tickly inside with pleasure, filled with the kind of itches that need a thorough and immediate scratching. But that’s just biology. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him?

“What am I looking at?” I tip my head back after catching his telling grin. “It looks sketchy,” I say, realising the building doesn’t have any windows. “Am I about to be kidnapped?”

“Look at the door.” His raised brows seem to tell a story all of their own. “Ring any bells?”

“La Caverna,” I read aloud. A tiny yet sudden explosion of delight erupts inside. “Like the place in Vegas?”

“Like the one I proposed to you outside of?”

“The one we almost visited,” I amend, trying to dial this back. “But for the issue of my age and ID.”

“I’m pleased you remembered,” he replies pointedly. “Otherwise, I’d look like a bit of a tit.”

“Not even.” I stare at the script etched onto the door. It doesn’t look anything like the one in Vegas, but I find myself smiling all the same. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened that night if I hadn’t lost my ID?”