And I meant it. He was the most selfless person I’d had the pleasure to meet in a long while. The things he did for the children of St. Vincent’s, as well as the things he was doing for me, said a lot of about who he was.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Aldridge,” he responded playfully. “I happen to think the same about you.”
“Now what was that you said about not taking it easy on me?” I said, picking up the pace and enjoying the feel of the burn in my calves.
He matched my speed and smiled over at me—a sweaty piece of dark hair sticking to his forehead and making him look wild and young.
And we ran. We raced each other, him taking it easy on me even though he’d said he wouldn’t. When we made it back to my car, I threw myself across the hood, pressed my sweaty face to the cold steel, and breathed hard.
When I stood and turned to face Roman, he was standing behind me, his hands on his hips, and a strange look in his eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
The look cleared and again, he turned away to stretch his body after our run. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
It was around noon, and my stomach was eating away at itself.
“I think since you dragged me out here to work me like a dog, the least you could do is come to lunch with me. There’s a fantastic Italian place close to your office. I think you’d love it there.”
I stopped when I realized that I sounded as if I were asking him on a date. Actually, this entire day had a strange date vibe to it. Honestly, I didn’t hate it.
“I mean if not, I totally understand.” I tried to fix my mishap.
He stepped closer to me. Reaching up, he plucked a dead leaf from my hair. “That sounds great. I’m starving.”
After dropping Duke at home, we met at Mama Maria’s, still in our sweaty workout clothes. We were both famished, and I couldn’t get the water I ordered down my throat fast enough.
Water dribbled down my mouth and chin, stopping me. I laughed as I swiped at my chin. “Wow. That was attractive, huh?” I joked.
His eyes turned serious before he turned away and looked over the menu. Something was going on in his mind, and I wanted to know what it was.
“I haven’t been here in so long. Oh my God, before we leave, you have to get a chocolate ball,” I said with entirely too much excitement in my voice.
Roman finally laughed. “So we work out, then we come here and eat chocolate?’
I laughed with him. “Yes.”
“Seems like our little run was a bit on the pointless side if you ask me.” He looked up at me from behind his menu. A playful spark was in his whiskey eyes.
I liked playful Roman.
“No. Our run was amazing. I feel like I could take on the world right now.” I smiled. “Which means I could definitely take on a chocolate ball from Mama Maria’s. Plus, they’re not just chocolate balls.”
With a cute smirk, he said, “Oh well, then please, enlighten me about these famous chocolate balls.”
“You see, they are the equivalent of a chocolaty fortune cookie. Inside the ball, there is a fortune.”
We ordered our food and talked about the practice while we ate. He told me how he’d met Stein and how long they’d known each other. It was such a normal, friendly conversation.
“I admit, Samantha, this place is every bit as delicious as you’d said.”
“Right? I can’t believe you’ve worked across the street from this little piece of heaven for years and have never eaten here.”
“I can’t believe I let you drag my arse here after we’ve just worked out,” he said, leaning away from the table and patting his flat stomach.
We each ordered chocolate balls and even though I protested, Roman paid the bill. Cracking open my ball, I bit into a broken piece of chocolate and unrolled my fortune.
Something great is right in front of you.
I smiled to myself as I looked up at Roman. My fortune had never been so right.
“What’s yours say?” he asked.
Balling my fortune up, I stuffed it in my pocket. “It says you’re going to be late if we don’t get up and go.”
AFTER LEAVING ROMAN, I drove straight home, feeling better than I had in a long time. I stepped into the house and was met with Duke and a smelly surprise from him in the kitchen. I let Duke out back before cleaning up the mess. When I was done, I went upstairs for a shower and was met by Michael on the stairs.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
He seemed calm today—different. It was as if he wanted to spend some time with me or something.
“I went for a run,” I replied.
He followed me up the stairs to the bedroom where I began digging through clothes before my shower.
“Since when do you run unless you’re being chased?” he joked.
It was intended to put me down, but I couldn’t help but laugh. My laughter wiped the smile right from Michael’s face. I could tell it angered him that I seemed so unfazed by his remark.
“Since today. I found it very relaxing actually,” I said as I shut my underwear drawer with my hip.
“It’s about time you took some time with your appearance,” he said.
Again, it was meant to put me down and again, I let it slide off my back. I wasn’t going to let him bring me down. Feeling happy and in a playful mood, I turned and poked my butt out.
“So what do you think, Michael?”
His lip curled up, and confusion moved across his face. “What do I think about what?” he asked.
Forgetting that I was no longer with Roman, I posed with my neck arched and again poked my ass out.
“Think you could bounce a quarter off my ass?”
Michael’s eyes moved to my face, disgust filling his eyes. It was like strike three, and just that quickly, my good mood vanished.
“I think your ass already has enough bounce without adding quarters to the problem. You could use a month or two at the gym. Don’t think your little makeover changes anything.”
He turned on his heel and left the room. The entire day with Roman forgotten, I reached down and ran my fingers over my stomach, feeling the rolls and fat that I thought might be all in my head.
All of Roman’s work getting into my brain and trying to help me was washed down the drain just that quickly. One step forward and five steps back.
THINGS WERE SHIFTING, and it was up to me to keep that from happening. I thought that maybe it was time I started dating again. Whatever it took to keep my head in the game and my eyes off Samantha’s chest as she jogged next to me.
This wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t that guy. I was always able to look past the women who threw themselves at me, why couldn’t I do the same with a woman who was very obviously in love with her no-good husband?
I’d made a promise to her and I’d stick with it, but things were getting harder and harder when it came to her. I was seeing her in a new light. I’d already found her attractive, but seeing her playful and happy with a radiant smile on her face was like a punch to the gut.
I shouldn’t have accepted her offer for lunch, but I wasn’t ready to be away from her. I didn’t want to think about what that said about me. I was a gentleman, through and through, and I knew I’d never act on my thoughts, but it sickened me that I couldn’t control my thoughts.
Cracking open my chocolate ball, my eyes stayed glued to Samantha’s mouth as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the piece of chocolate like it was orgasmic. I felt myself harden under the table. Instantly, I wanted to ask her forgiveness. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself.
Looking down at the fortune in my hand didn’t help matters.
What you want is right in front of you. Just take it.
Clearly, the universe was out to get me.
MY MOTHER LOVED to dance. I had memories of her slinging me and my little sister, Rachel, around the family room with a happy smile and laughter. It was one of my better memories, which was why when it came to finding something else th
at would bring Samantha confidence and happiness, I thought of dancing. Ballroom dancing to be exact.
I had her meet me at the top dance studio in Miami Thursday afternoon, and when she walked in, wearing a flirty, knee-length dress and heels that made her calves pop and her ass do things to my head, I had to look away.
She smiled at me as she made her way across the shining, hardwood floor to my side of the room.
“How did you know?” she asked, her face flushed with happiness and her eyes sparkling.
I’d done that. I’d put that happiness there. If I had to step away tomorrow because I was getting too close, I’d walk away knowing that I’d done that.
“How did I know what?”
“I added dancing to my bucket list,” she said, slipping her light jacket from her body and revealing a pair of beautifully sun-kissed shoulders. They begged to be touched—begged for my kisses.
Clearing my dry throat, I looked away. “I thought you didn’t have bucket list.”
I knew I sounded grizzly and rude, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was my defense—the only thing keeping me on my feet when I suddenly had the desire to sink to my knees in front of her.
“Well, thanks to you, I started one. Ballroom dancing is number four.”
I wanted to know what one through three were, but I didn’t have time to ask before Ms. Bright, the dance instructor, was pulling us onto the floor.
We were pushed together, my hand resting on her lower back, her tiny hand in mine, while the other rested on my shoulder. Heat from her body moved across my chest and the sweet smell of her skin enveloped me. It was that exact moment that I realized what I total git I’d been for picking something that would force us to be close. Perhaps in the deepest recesses of my mind, I’d known of the closeness. I’d longed for it.
The music started, and Ms. Bright called out orders like a tiny drill sergeant. Soon, Samantha and I moved across the room as if we’d danced together many times. I led her around the floor, my eyes focused on hers, and it was as if nothing else existed. She wasn’t my patient, and she definitely wasn’t married. She was just Samantha, I was just Roman, and we were just dancing.
“Very good,” Ms. Bright said in her Spanish flare. “What a lovely couple you two make.”
Samantha pinched her lips together to keep from laughing as she looked up at me with her dark, mysterious eyes. I didn’t bother correcting the teacher. I was too caught up in the feel of her so close to me.
“This is everything I’d hoped it would be,” Samantha said as I spun her, getting her hair caught on my wrist.
We weren’t the best in the room by far, but we were making it work.
“Why didn’t you ever go if it’s what you wanted?” I asked, even though I was sure I already knew the answer.
“Michael was always too shy when I mentioned it, and then, he just never had the time. Still doesn’t.” Her smile slipped, and I mentally kicked myself for asking.
Reaching up, I smoothed away a soft strand of her hair. “You look really beautiful today, Samantha.” I lavished her with a compliment and was rewarded with another heart-stopping smile.
“Thank you, Roman. You look pretty good yourself,” she said playfully.
She spoke as if we were rehearsing lines, as if what I’d said was only said because of our situation and my trying to build her confidence.
I wanted her to know I meant what I said. And not only for my own selfish reasons, but because they were true. I meant every word, and it was important that she believed them, too. Not for me, but for herself. She needed to know that she was beautiful and charming.
“Samantha.” Her name rushed from my lips in a whisper that I didn’t think she would hear over the music.
She was staring down at our feet, but she looked up when I said her name. As soon as she did, I felt her small foot step on mine.
“Oh my God, Roman!” Her face flushed, and she looked up at me with complete dread in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not in the slightest.”
“I’m not a very good dancer.”
“I’m not a very good singer, but that doesn’t stop me from singing my favorite songs out loud. You’ll learn, and if you’re still stepping on my toes, we’ll just have to dance like that for the rest of the classes.”
She laughed, and I loved the sound. It was uplifting and sweet. Sweeter than the soft music that blasted from the speakers. More beautiful than any definition of beauty.
“Were you going to tell me something?”
“Huh? Oh, right, yes.”
Suddenly, what I was going to tell her didn’t seem to fit into the conversation anymore. I didn’t know how to bring it back up, but it was important that she know. Taking a deep breath, I started.
“I meant what I said.”
A small frown creased between her brows with her confusion. “About the dancing?”
I shook my head. “No, about you being beautiful.”
Her smile faded slightly, and she didn’t say anything right away as she stared into my eyes. I wanted to know what she was thinking—what she was feeling. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was feeling and thinking exactly what I was. I wanted to ask her, but she spoke before I had a chance to ask.
“It’s easy for me to believe that when I’m with you. I’m different with you, Roman. You make me different.”
“No, I don’t. I just show you how I see you, and I treat you how every woman should be treated. I respect your mind, and I think your words matter. I not only find you beautiful, but I find your heart and compassion beautiful, too.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but I knew I hadn’t upset her. I had managed to touch a part of her that every woman wanted to be touched. Her soul. It was deep inside—locked in a box covered by emotions—and somehow, my words were able to penetrate that shield. It made me happy when I saw from her expression that the tear that slipped down her cheek wasn’t one of sadness, but one of sweetness and feeling.
“I wish…” She took a deep breath, and her sentence faded.
“What?” I asked, tightening my grip on her and bringing her closer to me.
I longed for her words as if they were my next breath.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen!’ the instructor interrupted loudly. She clapped her hands and demolished the moment between Samantha and me. “Let’s switch it up a little.”
We blinked, taking a step back from each other, and she was the first to look away.
We danced hand in hand for an hour, and I spent that time trying to control my body and its reactions to Samantha. Once the class was over, I gathered my jacket and prepared to go back to the office. My body was strung tight after holding her so close for so long, but I couldn’t let it get to me. Regardless of what I’d been thinking, the truth still remained. I was a doctor—she was my patient. My very married patient.
I got into my car, thinking it was time I stopped seeing Samantha so much. Maybe go back to the once or twice a week thing. It seemed that since we’d started this, I was seeing her almost every day. It was starting to get to me.
Those thoughts didn’t stop me from picking up my phone and texting her.
Me: The Palm Bar and Lounge. Tomorrow night. 9pm.
Samantha: Yes, Dr. Roman.
What could I say? I was a masochist.
WHEN FRIDAY NIGHT came around, I was nervous. I knew bringing Samantha around my friends wasn’t a great idea, but she’d said herself that she didn’t have any. She needed to be more social—step out with a crowd and laugh… maybe have a few drinks. She needed a night out.
I waited at the bar across the room from the group I’d came with and waited for the bartender to serve me the drink I’d ordered. Looking down at my watch, I was nervous when I saw that it was almost ten. Samantha was almost an hour late, and I was beginning to worry that something might have happened to her.
Tipping the bartender, I took my drink when she han
ded it over and turned to go back towards the table we were sitting at. It was then that I saw her. She was wearing a strappy, black dress that touched her knees. A slit worked its way up the bottom of her skirt and when she moved, a tiny hint of her thigh and garter showed.
My body tightened everywhere as my eyes moved down her long, curvy legs to the tip of her stilettos. She was amazing. Beautiful. Sexy. As she looked around the room, she bit nervously at her ruby-red bottom lip and instantly, I imagined doing the same, nibbling on her lip and tasting her.
Her dark eyes met mine from across the room, and she smiled in relief. I lifted my drink and waved her over toward the bar. Eyes turned her way as she moved across the crowded room. Guys admired her body and leaned their heads to the side to catch a glimpse of her ass as she walked by. She had no clue what she did to the males in the room, but I knew. I definitely knew as I adjusted my pants and took a seat on a barstool.
“What will you have?” I asked over the music when she got to my side.
“I’d like to try a beer,” she said with smile.
Turning away, I ordered her a beer and tried to think of anything that took the mental image of Samantha naked in my bed away.
I HADN’T BEEN out on the town since I was a teenager—since before Michael. He wasn’t one for dancing and drinking. Actually, he wasn’t one for fun, unless of course, it included a bimbo on his lap.
I didn’t picture Roman as a man who drank beer, but once he handed me a longneck bottle, it was too late to change my mind. The bottle was cold, stinging my palm and chilling my lips. At first, the taste was unbearable. The bubbles rolled across my tongue, filling my mouth with the bitter flavor, but I continued to take them as Roman handed them over. After the first one, I didn’t even notice the taste anymore.
He introduced me to the small group of friends he’d came with, two of them being women who were obviously head over heels for Roman. I didn’t say anything about it since I didn’t want to know if he was seeing either of them. I wasn’t sure when his dating life started to matter, but it wasn’t something I had any right to dwell over.
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