Chapter Twenty-Three
Samantha opened her eyes to dazzling sunlight. The bedroom window framed a lush banana tree, its large, flat leaves swaying lazily. A green iguana raced up the trunk. The bed was warm. Roman’s arm, slung across her torso, weighed heavy. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d greeted a new day with such love and gratitude. That warm feeling quickly drained away as a flood of dread washed through her.
‘Jesus!’
She’d overslept. What time was it? Her phone was nowhere in sight.
Roman was out cold. He slept on his belly with one arm curled around a pillow, the other flung over her body. He looked adorable. But now wasn’t the time for mindless observations. She gripped his shoulder and shook him. He growled in his sleep like a Rottweiler.
‘Wake up!’ she cried. ‘We’re late!’
He opened one eye and peered at her. His voice was husky. ‘What time is it?’
‘I don’t know!’ she cried.
With a heavy sigh, he rolled over and reached for his smart watch off the nightstand. ‘Relax. It’s only eight o’clock.’
She could not relax. She’d never intended to sleep over. The guys were off the hook until four in the afternoon. The bridesmaids had a brunch at ten and a visit from a hairdresser at twelve. The make-up artist arrived at two. Naomi would be barking orders all day. She had to get going if she didn’t want to get murdered today.
‘I have to get back in time for brunch. I can’t show up in last night’s clothes.’
Roman grumbled something and tossed back the sheets. ‘I’m up.’
She swept her gaze down the length of his naked body. ‘I’d say you are.’
‘Look, don’t touch,’ he said, and rolled out of bed.
It pained her to oblige.
Roman pulled a fresh pair of sweat pants from the wardrobe. Samantha went on a treasure hunt for her clothes. The strapless bra was first; she found it at the foot of the bed. Her underwear was next. Her jeans and sparkly top were where she’d left them, on the kitchen floor. The copper pots they’d knocked over the night before were scattered on the terracotta tiles. She quickly picked them up and set them neatly on the counter. The next thing she knew, she was hunched over the counter under the watchful eye of the cat curled up in a corner, close to tears. She’d never be back here. Pain drilled through her chest. This was it.
‘Hey, Samantha!’ Roman called out from the bedroom. ‘Mind if I hang out at your place? I’ve got to take Anthony to the barber in a bit. Might as well stay at the resort instead of driving back and forth.’
Samantha took a second to collect herself and find some way to feign a cheery tone. ‘Sure! Just remember to pack an overnight bag, too.’
Roman tossed his duffle bag onto the wooden bench under her bedroom window. ‘So this is the famous four-poster bed?’
‘Yes, it is.’ Samantha took the garment bag with his suit and hung it in the wardrobe next to her bridesmaid’s gown. ‘Very sturdy.’
He wrapped his fingers around one of the carved mahogany posts. ‘Is that a challenge?’
‘Can’t a woman comment on the sturdiness of a piece of furniture without a man taking it as a personal challenge?’
Roman stretched out on the bed and joined his hands behind his head. ‘What can I say? We’re fragile creatures.’
They grinned at each other. They’d made it back to the hotel at breakneck speed. Samantha had a whole hour to get ready for brunch. Finally, she could relax. Just then, both their mobile phones and Roman’s watch chimed with text messages as if to mock her. Samantha scrambled around, looking for her phone. Roman only had to tap on his watch. ‘Cool,’ he said. ‘Anthony’s parents just got here.’
Samantha let out a shout. ‘Crisis averted!’
Well, hell… It was finally here. Today was Naomi and Anthony’s wedding day. All the obstacles were cleared out. This was really happening. She looked at Roman, misty-eyed.
He sat up in one smooth movement and stood at the centre of the room.
‘Did you want to marry that guy?’
That guy? He meant Timothy, of course. Why bring him up now? The answer was yes. She had wanted to marry him. However, what seemed like the logical next step only weeks ago now seemed utterly absurd.
‘Sure,’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘It’s only normal. We were together a while.’