Roman's Having Sex Again

by Nikki Ashton

  ‘Hmm, that’s what I’m wondering,’ Roman replied. ‘Well, let’s knock and see if they’re home.’

  As Roman and Dylan made their way up the driveway, a thought suddenly struck me. I felt my stomach roil as I remembered the night at the club. I’d pretty much told Pippa everything about the Cromwell deal, and how tight Roman’s margins were because he was using local labour and materials. That was what Jack Abbott was doing with Pippa! It had to be: he was getting information from her.

  Unsure what to do, I stood hesitantly and watched as Dylan banged on the door with a closed fist. As he did, Roman stooped to look through the letter box, and then stepped back, placing a hand on Dylan’s back.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, rushing forward.

  ‘I think they’ve gone. Take a look.’ Roman moved aside for me to look.

  As I pushed open the metal flap, I gasped. There was no hall, but the door opened into the lounge, and I could partly see into the kitchen. There was no furniture in the lounge, and the cupboard doors were open in the kitchen: just like Mother Hubbard, the cupboards were bare.

  ‘Fuck!’ Dylan hissed. ‘Where the hell has she gone?’

  The three of us went back to Mum and Dad’s to tell them the news, and decide what we should try and do next.

  Roman offered to make some calls the next day, hoping that some of his contacts in the building trade might know where Jack Abbott was.

  He and Dylan left after a while, and I stayed with Mum and Dad. I was supposed to have been staying with Roman, but they were both so devastated and worried about Pippa that I thought it best to be home with them. So, with a long and lovely goodnight kiss, Roman went home.

  As I lay in bed later that night, my mind wouldn’t give up whirling the idea around that I was the one that had given the information to Jack about the Cromwell job. Then, when that dissipated, the worry about Roman and I getting serious and not being able to have children reared its ugly head again.

  I’d heard his words that night in the club office, but I still couldn’t help worrying that I’d never be enough for him.

  It was almost dawn by the time I fell asleep, only to be woken about an hour later by a text from Roman:

  Grumpy: Think I’ve got an address for Abbott. It’s in Manchester. Am going to go there now. You okay to get a lift to the office?’

  Groggily, I sat up and pressed his number, thankful that he answered.

  ‘Hey baby,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I called an old mate who used to work for Jack’s old boss. He got me the address.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, but I want to come.’ I jumped out of bed, and flung open my wardrobe door, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. ‘I can be ready by the time you get here.’

  ‘Summer, I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘You saw the state of the place he was in. I’m not sure I want you somewhere that might be just as bad, if not worse. He may not even be there.’

  ‘So how did your friend get the address then?’ I asked, pulling on a pair of knickers.

  Roman was silent for a few seconds and then groaned. ‘Abbott met up with his old boss yesterday to talk about subbing some of his gang for the Cromwell job.’

  ‘But he’s nicked yours, what does he need any more for?’

  ‘They obviously weren’t enough, but do we need to have this conversation now?’

  ‘Yes, we do. Now, are you taking me or not?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he groaned. ‘Because if I don’t, you’ll just damn well keep ringing me.’

  I grinned, because he was right, I would.

  ‘Roman?’

  ‘What Summer?’ he snapped, his tone irritated.

  ‘How has he been able to afford to do the Cromwell job, and send you that cheque for your retainers on the men, and yet live in that horrible place?’

  ‘No idea, but it crossed my mind too. But for now, just get off the phone and get dressed, because I’ll be with you in ten.’

  With that the line went dead, and I quickly got dressed.

  The address that Roman had been given was an entirely different type of house to the one we’d visited the day before.

  This house was a cute black-and-white cottage on the outskirts of Manchester, surrounded by acres and acres of open fields. There was a pebbled driveway in front, with beautiful pink rose tree borders and a huge oak tree shadowing it.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I gasped, ‘this is lovely.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Roman frowned as he banged on the door. ‘So, how do you go from that shithole we saw yesterday to this in a matter of days?’

  Just as he was about to rap on the door again, it swung open and we found ourselves facing Pippa. She looked okay—other than shocked to see us—but she was clean, tidy, wearing make-up, and a pair of leather skinny jeans that I’d never seen before.

  ‘Buy those with Mum and Dad’s money?’ I asked, pushing past her into the house.

  ‘Wh-what are you doing here?’ she asked, as Roman followed me in.

  ‘Taking you home,’ I snapped.

  ‘I’m not coming home. I’m living with Jack now. Didn’t Ma and Dad tell you?’

  ‘Yes, they did. They also told me that you stole three grand from their account. How could you, Pip?’

  Pippa’s colour rose as she lifted her chin defiantly.

  ‘I’ll pay them back, and it’s not like they can’t afford it.’

  My heartbeat rapidly increased as I felt the urge to punch her.

  ‘That’s not the point!’ I stormed towards her and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘You are the most selfish little bitch I’ve ever met. Do you know how worried they’ve been about you? If you’d just asked, they’d have probably given it to you. Why, Pippa?’

  Pippa pulled out of my grasp and moved over to a large, cream velvet sofa that in itself looked as though it cost three grand. She plonked herself down and pulled a throw cushion against her chest.

  ‘I just needed the money to help Jack out, he’s going to give it back to me when he gets his first payment from …’ her voice tailed off and she at least had the decency to blush.

  ‘Oh yes, and that,’ I said. ‘Did you tell Jack about the Alan Cromwell deal? Stuff that I told you?’

  Before I realised what I’d said, Roman made a noise behind me. Me and my big mouth. I turned to see him staring at me, his eyes wide and expectant.

  ‘I only told her that your margins were tight, and that you were using local French labour.’

  I winced, waiting for him to berate me, but he didn’t say anything; he just took a deep breath and turned to Pippa.

  ‘Did you tell Abbott any of that?’ he asked.

  Pippa shook her head. ‘No, I don’t even remember you saying that. When did you say that?’

  ‘The night that Jack had a drink with us at Ziggy’s.’ She didn’t look as though she was lying, and I breathed a little sigh of relief and the pounding in my chest lessened. My sister had all the attention span of a Supermodel at a physics lecture.

  ‘I don’t remember. All I remember is you boring me to death about Roman, and then him storming off with you to his office.’

  She definitely wasn’t lying: she flicked her hair when she was lying, and her hands were still in her lap.

  I turned to Roman. ‘It wasn’t her.’

  He nodded again. ‘Okay, well, whatever. I think you should come home with us, Pippa.’

  Pippa looked at him as if he’d just told her Justin Bieber wasn’t the greatest pop star on earth—what can I say, my sister loves Bieber big style.

  ‘I’m not coming home, I’m living here now with Jack.’

  ‘He’ll hurt you, Pippa,’ Roman told her in a low voice. ‘He hurt my sister, and he didn’t treat the woman he had before you much better. Once he’s got what he needs from you, he’ll be on to someone else.’

  ‘No, he won’t!’ she spat back. ‘He loves me.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Pip, grow up! You’ve known him all of five minutes.’ I shook my head in despa
ir, because I knew she wasn’t going to budge.

  ‘Like you’ve known Roman, and you love him,’ she cried, jumping up off the sofa.

  My mouth dropped open, and I felt the colour drain from my face. Had I told her that I loved Roman? Should I deny it? If I did, would he be hurt? If I didn’t, would he run out of here quicker than my dad at a party when it’s announced the buffet is open?

  ‘Summer and I are different,’ Roman said, moving up behind me. ‘We’re in a relationship that’s open and honest. Jack fucking Abbott wouldn’t know honesty if it kicked him in the balls.’

  I glanced at him, wondering what his reaction was to Pippa’s words about me loving him, but he was simply staring at her.

  ‘I know about that Caroline woman and her daughter, if that’s what you mean?’ Pippa said like some stroppy teenager. ‘It’s not even as though she’s his kid.’

  My feelings about my sister instantly changed. No longer did I think she was simply a spoiled little brat who played on being the baby of the family.

  ‘You selfish, selfish girl,’ I said, my tone laced with cold animosity. ‘How could you live here, knowing that the child that calls him daddy doesn’t have a roof over her head? How could you be with such a man that would allow that to happen?’

  Pippa shrugged, and suddenly I didn’t even want her to come home.

  ‘Where is he?’ Roman asked.

  ‘Meeting a supplier for the French job.’ She looked down at the floor and folded her arms over her chest.

  ‘Will he be long?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ She shrugged again.

  ‘Mind if we wait.’ Roman said, more as a statement than a question. Taking my hand, he moved over to the sofa, pulling me with him.

  ‘Nice place,’ I snipped. ‘You pay for this, did you?’

  Pippa sighed. ‘No, Jack found it, we moved here yesterday.’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose we couldn’t have our little Princess living in the other place, could we?’

  ‘You went there?’ Pippa gasped.

  ‘Yes, we did,’ I replied. ‘It was delightful.’

  ‘It was only temporary after she left,’ Pippa protested

  ‘Yeah, if you want to believe that, Pip. He’s been living there with Caroline. Then some idiot came along and gave him three grand,’ I muttered under my breath.

  ‘Summer, enough,’ Roman said in a low tone. ‘Just leave it, okay.’

  He leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss, and I nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ I sighed and turned to Pippa. ‘I need the bathroom.’

  ‘Upstairs, second on the left, no right, no left. Oh I don’t know,’ Pippa sighed. ‘It’s up there somewhere.’

  With a squeeze of Roman’s hand, I left the room in silence. At the top of the stairs, I opened the first door on the left only to be faced with a couple of clothes rails with some men’s clothing hung on them and a pile of shoe boxes. There must have been at least ten boxes.

  My blood boiled as I thought of what Pippa had been spending our parents’ money on. I lifted up the lid of a Sophia Webster shoe box: Chiara’ sandals. The damn bitch! She knew I wanted them. I flicked the lid off another: Manolo Blahnik loafers, not my choice, but still they were bloody Blahniks.

  I flipped them over to examine them, and make sure they were real. Yep, real. How could she spend money she’d stolen from our parents on designer shoes? And, what made it worse, was that they were ones that she knew that I coveted? Shoes that she’d never even shown any interest in before.

  With anger seeping through me, I checked another box with another pair of Blahniks in them, then a box with a pair of Christian Louboutin ‘Glitter’ pumps: all of them were beautiful.

  I did a quick count of the boxes. There were actually nine in total, as one box just contained receipts. I don’t know why—maybe out of spite—I swapped them all around, mixing different shoes in different boxes: not an act of mindless vandalism, but it was the worst thing that I could do with such beautiful shoes.

  I then went back downstairs, my rage making me forget that I still needed a wee.

  Roman and I waited in silence for almost two hours for Jack to return, but when my stomach started to rumble, and Pippa made no attempt to offer us anything, I forced Roman to leave. I was desperate to rage about the shoes as well as get something to eat.

  When we got into the car, I was just about to tell him, when his mobile rang.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, getting out of the car, ‘I need to take this.’

  I watched in surprise, as he paced up and down, talking into his phone and dragging a hand through his hair. When he finally got back to the car, his face was sullen.

  ‘Okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep,’ was all he said and thrust the car into gear. He then turned the radio up and we drove away.

  Every few minutes on the way back to the office, his mobile rang, and he’d have to speak to a site manager or a supplier via his hands-free. We barely spoke to each other. When we got back to the office, he parked the car, got out and stalked inside, leaving me watching his disappearing back.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I asked as I slammed his office door behind me.

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied with a shake of the head. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘Are you mad at me because I told Pippa about the French job?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t your best move, Summer,’ he bristled, continuing to look at his laptop.

  ‘So if you’re mad, just say it instead of going mute.’

  I tried to regulate my breathing, and slow down my heart rate. He was acting like the old Roman, when all he had to do was tell me what the problem was.

  ‘Please, Roman, just tell me what’s wrong.’ I really didn’t want to appear weak, but I couldn’t help the break in my voice.

  Roman’s head shot up.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Why are you getting upset.’

  I shrugged and shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’ Tears pushed past my lashes and slowly crawled down my face. This wasn’t me: I was stronger than this. Why was I getting upset about the fact that he was in a bloody bad mood?

  I knew why. The silence in the car had spiked my anxiety, and I hated feeling like that, especially as we’d been getting on so well. I knew it was just a blip, a mood, but I hated it. I hated that I might have ruined his business; I hated that he couldn’t even tell me that he was mad at me for it, and I hated that I may never give him children if we ever got to that point. And, while I was desperate to get Caroline out of his house, out of our lives, I hated that I was scared to tell him in case he would think that I was just being a jealous bitch.

  Roman got up from his desk and came around to pull me into his arms.

  ‘Baby, don’t cry.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s just everything is my fault,’ I sobbed against his shirt. ‘The business is in trouble because of me.’

  ‘You said yourself that Pippa didn’t tell Jack. He found out some other way, and, anyway, we’ve got the hotel to keep us going.’

  I looked up and could see in his face that it still wasn’t enough. The darkness around his eyes told me that he was still worried, and that brought on a fresh sob.

  ‘Come on, tell me what else is wrong?’ Roman asked, kissing my hair.

  How could I tell him without sounding like a batshit-crazy woman, who was thinking about babies with her boyfriend of just a month.

  ‘Summer, please,’ he whispered.

  Then it all poured out, I couldn’t help it. I was at a low ebb, and he was being so sweet, holding me and rubbing small circles on my back.

  ‘Our talk on Friday night has just reminded me of what I’m never going to have, that’s all. And I know it sounds stupid, but I’m worried that I won’t be enough for you, and one day you’ll realise and that’ll be it,’ I said through my tears.

  Roman moved to sit down and took me with him, pulling me onto his knee.

  When we were settled, he wiped my sticky face with his
hand and kissed me softly.

  ‘You know, when you decide you want a baby, there are medical procedures that could help you,’ he said, rubbing his hand rhythmically up and down my arm. ‘And if that doesn’t work, there is always adoption.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, with a break in my voice. ‘But it hurts, Roman. The one thing a woman should be able to do, and I can’t. I feel worthless.’

  ‘Hey, don’t even think that,’ he urged. ‘You’re not worthless, far from it. My nanna used to say that God only gives problems to people who are strong enough to handle them. So you need to look at it from that angle; this is a problem that you are strong enough to cope with.’ He tapped my arm to reinforce what he was saying.

  ‘Bit of a wise old woman your nanna then?’

  I reached up and kissed him. A thank-you kiss for trying to help me. As I pulled away, Roman grabbed the back of my head and pulled me back to him.

  ‘Everything will be alright, you know,’ he said, nuzzling his nose against mine. ‘Remember what I told you on Friday night.’

  ‘I know,’ I breathed out, relaxing against him. ‘It’s just the thought of never holding a baby of my own … it makes my heart hurt, Roman.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He dropped another kiss on my lips and held me even tighter.

  Enveloped in his arms I couldn’t help but let the tears flow. Great, huge, gulping sobs that pulled at my stomach and hurt my throat. As my body shuddered with the pain of it all, Roman cradled me close and soothed me as best he could. Every wasted wish for the future whizzed around my head and then punched me with full force. I’d never hold a baby, I’d never pick my child’s name, and I’d never see their first school play. I’d never feel that unconditional love that your child gives to you. I cried for those dreams and cried for myself.

  After a while, my tears subsided, and I looked up at Roman with sore eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

  ‘What for? All I did was hold you?’

  He rubbed the wetness from my cheeks with his thumb and then smoothed my hair away from my sticky face.