Sweet Home (Sweet Home 1)

After minutes of quiet, comfortable solace in his arms, I lifted my head. “Rome, who was on the phone earlier, outside the cafeteria?”

He stiffened and released a slow, steady breath. “You saw?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

I sighed in disappointment. “Okay. Just answer one thing. Was it your parents?”

His arm tensed around my shoulders and the sound of the clock on the dash ticked loudly in the sudden strained silence. It was several muted seconds before he hushed out, “Yes.”

I decided to file my questions on that away for a time when he wasn’t so pissed off. I could see that it had cost him to reveal that tidbit of information.

I straightened, confused at my surroundings. “Why are we here?”

Romeo opened his door, took my hand, and pulled me onto the red-hot tarmac. “We’re gettin’ you some new glasses. C’mon’.”

I halted, pulling his arm back. “Romeo, I can’t afford them yet.”

His hard gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared. “I’m gettin’ them. Now c’mon!” He tried to pull me in step once again.

I stood stoic. “Romeo, I’m not a charity. I’ll get my own bloody glasses when I’ve saved up enough money. You won’t buy them for me. I won’t let you. Being poor doesn’t embarrass me—taking pity money does!”

He jerked me into his chest and wrapped his iron arms around my back. “Molly, don’t f**kin’ push me on this. I indirectly broke the damn glasses with my shit pass. I riled up Shelly by showin’ everyone that I liked you, and I let her ego get too inflated by puttin’ up with her queen of all of Bama shit for the last three years. I’m gettin’ you new glasses and you’re gonna let me—you don’t have a f**kin’ choice. It’s not about embarrassment; it’s about protectin’ what’s mine.” His hard voice brooked no argument.

Ordinarily I would’ve been pissed if someone ordered me around in such a way, but his alpha, take-charge, no-shit attitude had me swaying in uncensored lust right where I stood.

Rough hands ran up my back to grip my hair and Rome tilted my head to meet his determined gaze. “You get me?”

I relented and expelled a defeated sigh. “I get you.”

Placing a warm kiss on my head, Romeo took my hand firmly in his and led me into the large complex.

* * *

“Just tilt your head back and open wide… Yes, like that… and… Are they in?” the ophthalmologist asked as I blinked at a furious rate to expel the excess solution.

The world seemed to correct itself. “Yeah, I think that’s it. How do they look?”

I walked to the mirror and for the first time in years, saw myself clearly without large frames blocking the view.

“You look very pretty, honey,” she gushed sweetly.

“My eyes…” I whispered as I registered every detailed colour in my irises, bright brown with flecks of gold, just like my dad always said. I’d never seen them look like that—so vibrant, no barriers in my way—and I reached out to my reflection, running my hand down the glass.

Rome had told the ophthalmologist on our arrival to give me only the best and smacked his gold card on the counter, much to my ignored protest. We’d decided on contacts, and I couldn’t believe the difference they made to my appearance.

“So you have a month’s supply of lenses and a pair of tortoiseshell Chanel glasses for when you don’t want to stick them suckers on your eyeballs. Everything’s paid for Miss Shakespeare, so you’re good to go.”

I took the offered bag from the doctor and felt my face. I smiled and walked into the foyer. Rome sat on a cushioned seat, slouched down, watching some mundane daytime TV show. When he saw movement to the side, he looked over and turned back to the TV before whipping his head back on a double take. The floored expression on his face said it all.

He slowly rose from his chair, his throat moving up and down as he swallowed on his approach. I fiddled with the handles on the white bag and lowered my head. His scuffed brown boots came to a stop before me, and his finger lifted my chin to face him. I glanced up and his full lips parted slightly on a gasp, and he smiled. “You look beautiful, Mol.”

I blushed and lowered my eyes.

His finger lifted it again. “No. Don’t hide from me. You have the most stunnin’ eyes. You’re kinda blowing me away right now.”

“Thank you,” I said softly, heat rising to my cheeks.

Reaching down, he took my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going now?” I asked on a laugh as he hastily pulled me from the store, dragging me behind.

“I want to show you somewhere… and we need to get there quick.

10

We drove for about thirty minutes—I had no idea where. I’d never been good with directions so I settled back and enjoyed the scenery. Fields and fields of vibrant greens and yellows whizzed by, corn and wheat fields dominating the view. Blue skies stretched for miles and white fluffy clouds roamed lazily in the late afternoon sun. It was breathtaking.

Rome had placed his hand on my knee when we entered the truck and had yet to remove it. I felt his gaze fall on me from time to time and wondered what he was thinking. I hoped only good things.

He clicked the blinker on and we turned onto a long driveway. “Almost there,” he announced.

“Where’s there?”

“Just somewhere I like to go to be alone.”

Rome took a sharp left halfway down the drive and pulled onto a bumpy gravel road. We’d travelled about two miles when a huge crystal-blue-watered creek surrounded by high trees and brightly coloured flowers came into view. It was simply beautiful.

“My God, Rome, it’s amazing,” I stated, infatuated by the scene before me.

Patting my leg, he pulled the truck to a stop behind a large oak tree, opened the driver’s door, and walked around to let me out. I hopped down and took his offered hand as we strolled to the sound of flowing water. At the water’s edge, he pulled me down to sit beside him on a soft grassy verge.

Birds were singing high up in the treetops, crickets were chirping, and the air was warm and still. I don’t think I’d ever felt more at peace. Rome was watching me admire my surroundings with a satisfied expression.