by Cathryn Fox
“The end of the school year fair is coming up. There’ll be a dunk tank. I signed you up for it.” She lifts her arms and flexes. “I’ve been warming up my pitching arm.”
My God, she is so adorable. “Do you hate me, Peyton?”
“Yes,” she says with a grin.
“Let’s just hope all the evil little humans in the classroom don’t feel the same way, otherwise they’ll eat me alive.”
She grabs my arm. “Roman.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re going to love you.”
“Right, what’s not to love?” I joke. She rolls her eyes hard enough to give me a headache and I chuckle, despite the windstorm sweeping through my gut. The one person I want to love me doesn’t. We’re playing a game, having sex and having fun, but when push comes to shove, she’s built a wall around her heart—something else we have in common—and her brother would disown us both if he ever found out. How could we ever be together after this?
More importantly, how could we ever be apart?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Peyton
THE WARM SUN seeps in through the crack in the curtains and falls over my body, stirring me awake. My lids open and it takes me a second to remember where I am. My entire body tingles, my stomach full of butterflies, as I remember my morning conversation with Roman and that adorable smirk that crossed his face before he left me to sleep. When he teased me, saying he likes me nice and not so nice, his expression was filled with pure adoration and playfulness. Honestly, I love the way he looks at me. Roman Bianchi is so sweet, funny and playful—completely sensitive to my needs—how is a girl not supposed to fall for him?
Oh boy.
I can’t go there. No way, no how can I go and fall for a guy who is completely off relationships. I’m off them, too, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m crazy about Roman, always have been, and nothing good can come from that.
I push my blankets off and pad to the bathroom. I reach for the light, only to realize it’s on. It’s been on since Roman put me to bed last night, leaving the light on and the door cracked. My heart thumps a little harder in my chest and my throat is a gritty mess when I swallow.
God, where is my self-preservation when I need it most?
I step into the bathroom and gasp at my reflection in the mirror. Holy, I’m surprised the man didn’t run back to New York. I cringe at the dark smudges under my eyes, and at the mess of hair on my head that would make Carrot Top look like a fashion model. I hurry into a warm shower and wash the remnants of the flu, or whatever this bug was, away. I can’t for one second think Richard or his wife would stoop so low to put something in a cupcake to knock me on my ass—or rather the commode. We’re adults, not devious children, right? I’ve dealt with enough of them in my childhood, and thought adulthood would be different. Maybe I’m wrong. Roman seems to think so.
Once clean, I dress and head downstairs to find a loaf of bread and a mug with a tea bag in it on the countertop. I pick up the note he left, and my throat tightens as I read his perfect penmanship.
Try to eat something and text if you need me. See you soon. I’ll make us dinner, but it might not be edible!
A strange ache, deep in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart, tugs at me. I drop down into the kitchen chair, note clutched between my fingers. I read it again and again, yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop that wall around my heart from fracturing. My phone pings and I jump. I fish it from the bottom of my purse, and a stupid smile tugs up the corners of my mouth as I read the message.
Hope you’re feeling better. I’m still alive. The evil little humans haven’t taken me out yet.
I hold the phone close and laugh, a new kind of lightness in me as I text back.
Feeling much better. I’m up to making dinner no problem. Whatever I had has passed.
I stare at the phone and three dots appear, only to disappear. I guess he changed his mind on whatever it was he was going to say. I shoot a text off to Cason to let him know things are going well and set my phone down. My stomach growls and I make some toast and tea, appreciating Roman leaving this all out for me. After I eat, I glance around, suddenly bored with myself. I’m usually on the go, having a million things to do, and I actually have no idea how to relax.
Well, I have some idea...
But Roman is at work, so I’m left to my own devices. Maybe I’ll head to the school and creep on him the way he creeped on me. I scoop up my purse and head out into the sunshine. Face tipped to the sun, I stand on the porch for a second. I truly love it here in Malta, and I haven’t even really explored it yet. Something about the place gives me a sense of peace, of home. Would it be the same if I weren’t here with Roman?
I’m too afraid to answer that.
I walk along the sidewalk leading to the school and pass joggers, and mothers pushing their children in strollers, and elderly people out for a walk. I’m not sure I ever remember my heart being so full.
As I approach the school, laughter reaches my ears, and I check my phone to see it’s afternoon break at the playground. I walk around the school, spot Roman and cover my mouth to stifle a chuckle. The kids are pulling him in all directions. I lean against the brick building, a huge smile on my face as I watch him join them in a game of basketball, where evidently, it’s him against the entire classroom.
“Hey, not fair,” he calls out, when one of the kids distracts him so the other can get the ball. They all laugh, obviously loving how they’re able to get the better of him. I stand there a few more minutes, and my smile falls as a flash of sadness envelops me. The man has been hurt in the past, has sworn off marriage and children. It’s a shame, really. He’s having the time of his life with them right now and it’s clear he’d be a remarkable father. Dammit, I hate that past hurts have forced him to guard his emotions. Maybe it’s time he let go of the past and move on to the future. My throat tightens. Yeah, I’m one to talk.
I fold my arms and hug myself as a cool chill moves through me. The sun is shining on my body, but the cold is always there, right below the surface. I’m about to push off the wall when I catch a shadow on the ground. I turn to find Richard coming toward me. I stand up a bit straighter.
“Late start to your day, isn’t it?” he calls out, his loud voice grabbing my attention. He checks his watch and closes the distance between us.
“I was ill.”
He raises his eyebrow and looks me over, like he’s judging me. “You seem fine now.” He finishes his perusal and I square my shoulders.
“I am now, but I was ill all night.” I narrow my eyes as I remember Roman asking if Richard could be behind my illness. “I think it might have been something I ate. Maybe the cupcake.”
Richard’s head rears back, and he glares at me. “Are you suggesting my wife did something to your cupcake?”
“I’m not—” I say.
“I can’t believe you would accuse her of something so vile... How dare you...”
“I never accused her of anything,” I say, as my stomach clenches. Yeah, I’m beginning to believe more and more that Paula did something underhanded to keep me from the classroom, and with the way he’s defending her, he’s completely unaware.
I stare up at him. Even though I saw the worst side of many people growing up and trust no one, I still can’t quite wrap my brain around the idea that Paula would go to such lengths to knock out the competition. Unease grips my throat. What else would she do to ensure he won the full-time position?
He rocks on his feet for a few seconds, and while I turn to take in Roman’s solid presence on the playground, I can feel Richard’s eyes drilling into me. “Where exactly did you say you and Roman were married?” he asks. My gaze flies back to his. His tone might be deceptively innocent, but every intuition I possess tells me there is nothing innocent about the abrupt change in conversation. This m
an is on a fishing expedition, although from the smug look on his face, he might have already reeled in a big one.
I tamp down the anxiety threatening to rise. “Oh, it was just a small ceremony at city hall in Manhattan,” I say, and try not to shift or look uncomfortable as the lie spills from my mouth. “Why do you ask?” I take a deep breath, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He goes quiet, leaving my mind to call on every worst case scenario, and after a long pause he says, “I was just wondering, because Paula said there are no records that you two were married in NY State.”
“Why on earth would she look that up?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer. “Is she that bored at home?”
He purses his lips and my gaze goes to Roman, who is now standing perfectly still, watching the two of us. Richard looks back to me. “Why don’t you answer the question?”
“You didn’t ask one, and I’m sure it’s just a filing mistake. I’ll look into it.” The school bell rings. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say, ending our discussion as I walk away. I head toward Roman, who is standing still on the basketball court, his eyes dark and deep, locked on mine as I saunter toward him.
I keep my steps even and measured, resisting the urge to run, not only to put distance between Richard and me, but because of the need to be close to Roman, to revel in the way his strength always wraps around me. I step up to him, and as he lightly runs his fingers down my arm, he dips his head, positioning his mouth inches from mine. Being close like this, his strong hands on my body, has a way of soothing my worries—making me think things will be all right. But not everything will turn out all right, and I can’t think about the loss that’s going to slice through me when this man goes back to New York.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low and steeped in concern.
“I feel 100 percent better.” I crinkle my nose. “And I was bored.” Okay, maybe bored isn’t the right term. Maybe lonely is a better way to put it. Without his big presence in the villa, it was just a big open space. Stark. Empty. Lonesome. That’s insane, considering I love alone time.
He frowns and rubs his hands up and down my arms to chase away the goose bumps. “Did you think I couldn’t handle this?”
“Well, you did say you were terrified,” I say with a laugh. “But I can see you have everything under control.”
“The kids are great.”
“Honestly, I just needed a breath of fresh air.” Needed to see you. “The kids seemed so happy to have you here.”
“Not true. They were all asking for you.”
My heart flips and my gaze rakes over his irresistible face. My God, what have I gotten myself into here? “Really?”
“Really.” Concerned eyes move over my face. “You do look a lot better.”
I laugh at that. “After last night. My God, I couldn’t have looked worse today had I tried.”
“Not true. You were adorable.”
“You, my friend,” I say, and poke his chest, “have become an awesome liar.”
He frowns at that. “I don’t lie, Peyton. Well, except for this pretend marriage, but we’re fighting an unfair system and had no choice.” He looks past my shoulders. “What did asshole want?”
Unwanted thoughts of Richard push back the warmth in Roman’s touch, leaving room for dread to invade and spread through my blood. A hard quiver goes through me. “He asked about our wedding, and where we got married. Paula’s been doing some digging. I think they know something, Roman.”
“They don’t know anything.” He clenches his jaw and his muscles ripple. “They’re just trying to rattle you.”
“I never let on, but I think he succeeded.” I shake my head, guilt eating at me. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess.”
“It’s fine.” He shakes his head, takes a deep breath and lets it out fast. “Maybe we should just get married for real,” he blurts out.
My entire body goes stiff. Holy, that flu must have affected my hearing, because no way did he just say we should get married for real. “What did you just say?”
“Maybe we should have a ceremony here, something small. We could play it off that we decided to renew our vows on the beach.”
“Are you serious?” Maybe I’m still in bed, lost in fever and having a bad dream.
But the thoughts of being with Roman, coming home to him every night, the two of us sharing hopes, goals, the good and bad, is not a bad dream at all. It’s a fairy tale and I don’t believe in them. I need to keep myself grounded in reality. It’s the only way I won’t get hurt.
“You still there?” he asks, his gaze roaming my face. “You went somewhere else for a second.” He frowns. “I’m not so sure you’re over this flu just yet.”
“I am. I’m fine. You just took me by surprise.”
“I can tell.” He laughs, pulls me to him and after all the kids file back inside, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You can stop looking at me like I just grew another head, Peyton.”
“I’m not going to ask you to go through with a ceremony, Roman. You’ve done enough already, and I know how you feel about marriage.”
“You’re one to talk,” he says, his voice low and intimate. His eyes narrow, like he’s waiting for a counterargument. But I have none.
“When you’re right, you’re right. Not denying that I’m a bachelorette for life, but you’ve already gone above and beyond for me.” I glance over my shoulder. “I’d better get inside. The second bell just sounded. I can take over now.”
“Nice way to change the subject,” he says with a snicker. “We’ll talk about it tonight, then.” He inches back. “And I’m finishing the day off with the kids. You go home and rest.”
“Home is boring.”
Without you.
“Go for a swim, and if you really are feeling better, why don’t you do a search on restaurants, and we’ll go out to eat tonight and do some sightseeing.”
“I’d love that.”
He kisses my forehead, takes a fast glance around and gives my backside a little whack. “Go.”
I yelp. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m actually having fun teaching these kids how to code. They really seem to enjoy it.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll head back and find a nice place to eat tonight.”
We walk back to the school, our bodies close, our knuckles brushing, and it’s insane how much I miss his touch, his closeness, when he disappears inside. My phone pings and I welcome the distraction.
I smile when I see the call is coming from Carly. I quickly slide my finger across the screen. “Hey, Carly, I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Uh-huh. You get married and forget all about your best friend,” she teases, her voice light and full of laughter.
“Very funny. I’ve been crazy busy.”
“Doing what? Playing house with New York High Society’s Most Eligible Italian? The man is unbelievably hot. The pictures in the paper don’t do him justice.”
“I don’t think of him that way.” Her laugh of disbelief nearly deafens me. “Okay fine, he’s hot.”
“Oh my God,” she says.
“What?” I ask.
“You slept with him.”
I glance over my shoulder. I’m not sure why. Maybe I expect Richard to be leaning in to hear the call. I lower my voice and say, “So what if I did?”
“Peyton,” she screeches. “That is awesome.”
“Yeah, it kind of was, or is...because we’re still doing it.”
“Tell me everything.”
I laugh. “Let’s just say, it’s possible he’s ruined me for every other man.”
“Is he, you know?”
I frown and saunter down the sidewalk, sneezing as I pass the foliage I seem to be allergic to. “No, I don’t know.”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“Like hell you’re not, and actually you don’t have to. I already know he is. I can tell by your voice.”
“Going all Freud on me again, are you? How are things back there?”
“Same,” she says. “But I want to hear about you.”
“Things are going really good.” A mortified sound crawls out of my throat. “You’re not going to believe this, though...” I begin and for the next ten minutes, as I make my way back to the villa, I fill her in on where I’m living, how Roman took care of me last night and jumped in to help out with the students.
“Wow, what a guy. He almost sounds too good to be true.”
“I know, right? But he’s my brother’s best friend and said he’d do whatever it took to help me get this job.” She goes quiet, too quiet, and my stomach squeezes as I press in the code to open the front door. “What?” I ask.
“You like him.”
“Yeah, he’s okay,” I say as need wells up inside me. Honest to God, I do like him, a lot. I always have. But I swore long ago I’d never give anyone the power to hurt me. Is that what I’m doing here? Have I given Roman the power to hurt me?
My entire body tenses, and the toast I washed down with tea threatens to make a second appearance.
“How does he feel about you, Peyton?” she asks, her voice changing as she goes into professional mode.
“I’m not a patient, Carly. Please don’t analyze this. We’re just two consenting adults, having a little fun while we pretend to be married.”
“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
I step inside the villa, and the cool air-conditioning falls over me, although I’m not sure that’s the reason I’m shivering. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”
I don’t.
Not even a little bit.
“Okay, my morning break is over. I have a patient waiting. Call me soon.”
“Will do.”