Blindsided (Roman Holiday 3) - Page 22

Ashley tilted her head and smiled at her toe. She looked sad, and he thought it might be for him, which just made him feel heavier.

“Because I love them.” She looked at him. “These people are my family, Roman. Sunnyvale is my home. I guess I’m hoping, if you meet them, you’ll get it. And you’ll care.”

He almost told her then. That he didn’t like her. That she was frivolous and inconsequential.

He almost told her that love never got anybody anywhere, and it was a weakness he couldn’t afford.

But instead, he said, “Fine.”

She’d left him no other choice. He’d have to reshuffle the entire construction schedule. Make a dozen phone calls. He’d have to invent some bullshit to tell Heberto and some other bullshit to tell Carmen.

He’d try for Monday—try his hardest, give it his best. But he couldn’t find any hope for himself. Hadn’t been able to for three days.

“But at the end of two weeks,” he said, “no matter what, you forget about the deer, and you step aside.”

“Unless you change your mind.” Ashley stood.

“I won’t.”

“Then I guess that’s the chance I’m taking.”

“Fine.”

She walked away. With her hand on the screen door, she paused. “It might be fun.”

“It won’t be fun.”

She shrugged and opened the door. “At the very least, it’ll be good for you to take a vacation. You could use some relaxing. You’re so uptight.”

“I’m disciplined.”

“You’re uptight. You need a holiday.” Then she laughed, abruptly, at nothing. “A Roman holiday. Cute.”

The screen door slammed shut behind her. A few seconds passed before she returned, flattening her nose against the screen. “Oh, and we leave in the morning, with the Airstream,” she said. “I’m going to be driving your Caddy at least half the time, so get used to the idea.”

Then she was gone.

Roman sat on the porch until the sun set. His phone buzzed and chirped and rang in his pocket—the press of business relentless as ever—but he didn’t shift to answer it.

What would be the point? He’d accepted defeat. He’d agreed to his sentence.

Two weeks in purgatory. Two weeks with Ashley.

Two weeks of motherfucking holiday.

Tags: Ruthie Knox Roman Holiday Romance
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