Breaking Roman (The Moran Family Book 3)

by Alexis James

  Ironically, the same tune is playing when I enter my folks’ house a few hours later. I’ve got a twelve-pack of beer in one hand, gifts cards for everyone in the other. No one will be shocked at my lack of gift purchasing; I’m not exactly known for putting a lot of thought and time into my choices. Which is why I’m flummoxed that I spent so much time picking out items for Emmy, just like I did for her birthday. I spent even more time picking out the one small purchase I left for Sabrina and now in retrospect, I’m regretting that I even did that. I’m pissed at her, so why the fuck did I think a Christmas gift was in order? Sometimes I really piss my own self off.

  “Merry Christmas, sweet boy,” Mama gushes, pulling me into her arms. She takes a step, gives me a hard look up and down, and states, “You don’t look good.”

  I send her my dimpled grin and reply, “You’re right. I look amazing, as usual.”

  She gives me a “you’re so full of shit (without the swearing)” look and takes the beer from my hand. “Go say hello to your papa.”

  He’s seated in his usual spot on the couch and gives me the evil eye after we share an embrace. “Where’ve you been?”

  With a shrug I take a seat next to him and turn my gaze to the football game on the television. “Been busy.”

  “You okay?”

  No, I’m brokenhearted, pissed off, and can barely breathe. “Yeah, Papa, I’m okay.”

  “Liar.”

  We share a brief look, but thankfully he stows the conversation and starts to give me a play by play of what I’ve missed on the screen. The others trickle in, first Cruz and Mia then Marco and Amita. Bella is on-call today, and while she’ll be missed, we’re used to not having her with us on holidays.

  I exchange hugs with the girls, “what’s up?” nods with the guys, and each of my brothers throw me an intense look that’s part “I’m worried about you” and part “how the fuck can I help?” I freaking love the hell out of them for that, but they are well aware, having been in my shoes before, that nothing anyone says or does will change a thing. A broken heart is just that … broken, beyond repair, shattered for the foreseeable future. I’m actually sort of starting to get used to the pain now, which I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

  Sophia comes bounding into the room, a bundle of energy as she makes the rounds, hugging each person before plopping right down on my lap and staring intently in my eyes. “What’s this I hear about you and Sabrina breaking up?” I love her, but she’s not exactly known for her tact. I suppose that’s because she’s still a college student, still surrounded by the world that’s hidden away from the reality that I know.

  “Yeah. Let it go, okay?”

  Her brown eyes widen as she glances around at the others. “You guys gonna help me out here?” There’s a bunch of shrugging and head shaking from the others, then she turns back to me and asks, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Soph. Let it go.” I hate having to be the bad guy; she’s such a sweetheart and I hardly ever get to see her now that she’s in Louisiana year-round. “Come on, tell me what’s new with you.”

  She snuggles down in my arms and tells me all about her finals and some of the crazy things she and her friends have been doing. I sit there taking it all in, chuckling at her enthusiasm. Sophia is everything I wish I could be: happy, mellow, taking everything in stride and easily accepting whatever life throws her way. I suppose I could learn a thing or two from my baby sister if I really wanted to change, but change takes work. It takes effort and it takes a belief in yourself that you refuse to let sadness take over your life. And I’m just not there yet. I’m not sure I ever will be.

  My phone blares to life, Emmy’s face lighting up the screen. “I’ve gotta take this.” Setting my sister aside, I step out on the deck for some privacy. “Hey, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

  I swallow thickly at the sweet sound of her voice greeting me, this child who will never really be mine. “Merry Christmas to you too, Roman! Thank you so much for all the gifts.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Em. I’m just glad you like them.”

  “I do. What are you doing today?”

  “I’m at my parents’ house.”

  There’s a long beat of silence then a soft, “Oh.”

  My heart constricts painfully. Fuck, I hate this. I want her here with me. I want Sabrina here with me too. I want everything back the way it was, when it was just the three of us learning to build a life together, dreaming of all the possibilities, hoping for forever.

  “Can I come over there?” she asks, her voice small and shaky.

  Christ … When the hell can I stop having to be the bigger person? “I’d love that, Em, but what about your mom? You can’t leave her alone on Christmas.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  A thousand questions are right on the tip of my tongue, starting and ending with where does fuck-stick Will fit it their plans for today. As much as it pains me to admit, their plans are none of my business. I’m the outsider looking in now. “You have a fun day, okay?”

  “I will. And, Roman?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I … I wish …”

  Fucking hell. “Yeah, kiddo, me too.”

  The moment the call is disconnected, I shove the phone in my pocket and close my eyes to ward off the damn tears that can’t seem to stay away. Shoving the balls of my hands in my eyes, I growl out a stream of curses, wishing like hell doing so made any part of this better.

  It doesn’t.

  A large hand clamps down on my shoulder and Cruz says, “Tell me how I can help.”

  “You can’t.”

  He steps up next to me, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes staring forward. “My PI is running a background check on Leahy. We should know something soon.”

  To say that I’m shocked at this revelation would be an understatement. “Does Sabrina know about this?”

  “Yes. She came to me asking about a recommendation for a lawyer. After we talked, I told her I’d have him looked into.” His jaw tightens. “Something is off here. I can feel it.”

  I can too, but the most surprising thing of all is my big brother coming to my rescue, just like he did eons ago when he’d protect me against bullies. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but that’s not gonna change anything.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. At least she will have answers. And so will you.”

  Yeah, like answers are going to help this incessant pain that continually rips through my chest every time I think about Sabrina. I suppose he is right, though. We’ll both know the truth about this dickhead troll that wandered into her life and completely upended it.

  It shouldn’t take a PI report to convince Sabrina I’m worth keeping in her life. If she ever believed that was true, she never would have ended things between us. I fully understand her commitment to her child, but she has to know by now that my obligation to Em is just as fierce as hers. The sad truth of it all is that if Sabrina really wanted me, wanted us, wanted our future, I’d be by her side now going through all this.

  Until now, I’ve never really doubted whether or not she truly cared about me. But if I’ve learned nothing else it’s that I’m a poor judge of character. Maybe I was what she needed to pull herself out of her self-imposed celibacy. Maybe all I was good for was a few rolls around the mattress. Maybe she never looked at me and saw something long term, something worth betting her future on. I hate to admit, but I’m so uncertain about everything now I’m even starting to doubt my own affection toward her.

  How the fuck could I have misjudged her so completely?

  “You didn’t.” My eyes dart to my brother’s as I realize I spoke the words aloud. “Sabrina is a good person. She’s just in a bad place right now.”

  Befuddled, I snap, “Why are you defending her?”

  “Because I saw how upset she was, how she hates that she’s hurt you.” Cruz is not the type to blow shit up my ass or make small talk simply to fill silent air so the fact that he’s a
ctually standing here trying to get me to listen to him is reason enough to pause and hear him out. “She’s just doing the best she can in a bad situation. Doesn’t mean she never loved you.”

  “Like that matters now.”

  Sophia pokes her head out the door and states, “Mama’s putting the food out. Come on inside.”

  Cruz nods, answering silently for us both, though neither of moves from our positions. His support, silent or otherwise, means the world to me. The support of my family, whether I welcome it or not, is something I’ve always taken for granted. I suppose that’s easy to do in a family this size when there’s always someone reaching out to lend a helping hand. With the addition of Mia and Amita, that support system has only grown, and while I’ll admit there are times when it’s all slightly overwhelming, knowing each one of them has my back does help.

  “Thanks, man,” I murmur.

  Cruz nods and smacks my shoulder again. “No need to thank me. I just hate seeing …”

  Lifting my brows, I shoot him a smirk, knowing full well what he intended to say. “Ah-ha! So you do have a heart after all.”

  “Knock it off,” he snarls.

  Swallowing back a laugh, I offer up my own back slap. “Come on, big bro, let’s get our chow on.”

  I take my usual seat and share a knowing look across the table with Marco. He’s got my back too, and I’m certain that at some point today he’ll pull me aside and tell me so. Not that I need the words, because the unspoken rule in this family is to be there for one another … always.

  That thought easily takes me to Sabrina, who has never known what sibling affection could feel like. I miss that for her. I hate that she grew up in household lacking in affection with two workaholic parents. I hate that she settled for the affections of some lame dude, bought into his bullshit, and spread her legs for him. While I’ll never begrudge her a love life before I came along, I cringe to think about her sharing anything like what we shared with anyone else.

  I have to consider what this has been like for her and how terrifying it must have been to have him show up out of the blue and declare his attentions. For a woman like Sabrina, strong and capable and fiercely independent, that had to be a hard blow to her self-esteem. I’m not about to say I understand the oddities of her relationship with asshat Will, but whatever pull he has on her is obviously waning if she’s asked for Cruz’s help. I wished she’d have come to me. She has to know I’d do anything for her, including making the dude disappear for good.

  Okay, so that’s probably not true, but I will admit to one or two homicidal thoughts now and then.

  “Raise your glasses,” Papa states, his smile directed around the table. “I’d like to toast my beloved for this beautiful meal. Thank you, my darling, and Merry Christmas.”

  “Te amo, my dear,” Mama replies, grinning like a schoolgirl.

  See, this is the shit I want for myself. I want to love a woman like my father does, unapologetic about expressing affection, fiercely defending her in every way. I want what they have: years and years of memories, most good, some not so good, but all of them hand in hand. This is what I dreamed about with Sabrina, what I hoped our life would be like years from now. This is what our life should have been like, if she hadn’t allowed dickface to stroll in and take over. This life should have been mine … hers … ours … and I’ll be damned if I allow another minute to go by without telling her so.

  Muttering my excuses, I move off down the hall and lock myself in the bathroom. I consider phoning her but if the douchebag is there, I doubt she’ll answer. So after a minute or so, I quickly type out a text.

  “Come on, baby. Please answer.”

  I use the john, wash my hands and face, and still the phone is silent. I pace the six feet or so from the door to the wall and back again. Still nothing. And just when I’m resolved to tuck the phone away, it buzzes to life in my hand.

  Merry Christmas! I wish I was there with you too. You’ll never know how much.

  A slow smile lights my face as I respond.

  Tell me …

  I see the little bubbles telling me she’s responding mere seconds after I hit send. And then:

  More than you can ever imagine.

  With a chuckle, I reply:

  Doubt it. I can imagine a lot.

  This time her response takes longer and when I read it, every single cell in my body reacts:

  Please don’t hate me, Roman.

  Muttering a curse, I type:

  I could never hate you. I love you too much.

  Long, long moments go by and just when I’m about to convince myself that she’s no longer interested in this conversation, she replies:

  I really needed to hear that. I love you too. I hope you still believe that.

  Before I can respond, another text comes in:

  I have to go. I’m sorry. Enjoy your day.

  This time I don’t bother responding. There’s nothing left to say, not via text anyway. Hopefully one day soon we can actually sit down and have a conversation. At least now I know that I didn’t imagine how she felt about me, though as I told Cruz it doesn’t really matter now. The words are empty if they’re not followed by actions. Her actions clearly say that her attention is elsewhere. That might be with pencil-dick Will, or not, but I’m still left out in the cold trying to figure this shit out. Alone. Again.

  Ironic how everything has changed and yet nothing has really changed at all. We’re apart when we should be together, and even though there’s genuine love there, it clearly isn’t enough. I am happy she did at least respond to me, but I’m not sure if I’m better off knowing she does love me and still let me go or believing that she didn’t really love me at all and let me go.

  Wow, Moran … bipolar much?

  I’m driving myself up a goddamn tree with all this back and forth and indecision. At some point I’m going to have to shit or get off the pot, live my own life and learn to live without her. When the hell is that gonna happen? After she continues to string me along, telling me she loves me, then tosses me aside again? That’s when. Fuck, I might have thought I was a pussy before, but I’m definitely one now.

  No more.

  No. Fucking. More.

  I’m done. I’m done with her, her shit, and all the unknowns. No more games, no more alluded to promises. No. More. Romeo Moran may have been out of commission for a while, but he’s back in business, folks, and he’s here to stay. Roman Moran, pussy-whipped, lovesick fool can go straight to hell.

  “Please, Jack,” I plead.

  He glares at me. “What the hell do you hope to accomplish by going over there?”

  I shrug. It’s not like he’s asking me something I haven’t asked myself a billion times since I got this wild idea. But after the texts Roman and I exchanged earlier today, I can’t just leave things hanging in the air. Sure, I was interrupted—again—by another call from Will, this one asking if he could borrow some money. This is the third time he’s given me some sob story and asked for a handout, though this time the amount is quite higher than anything I’ve given him before. I agreed, only because I was in a hurry to get back to texting with Roman. But then my mom called and the next thing I knew hours have passed.

  So while I was shoving cash into Will’s outstretched, greedy little palm, refusing to allow him to see Emmy and simultaneously putting together some type of holiday meal for her, Jack, and myself, I got the wild idea to go to Roman’s apartment. All I want is to look him in the eye and tell him that I haven’t given up on us.

  Like that does me any good now. Jack is outright refusing to hang out with Emmy while I go, and he’s the only one I trust to stay with her, knowing Will is circling in the wind. He’s such a big jerk, threatening to turn the tables on me and call the cops if I don’t agree to dinner sometime this week. And even though spending an evening with him is the very last thing I want, I’ll do whatever I have to until Cruz’s PI says otherwise.

  “Is this because you wanna get laid?�
��

  My attention is focused back on my best friend, who is currently looming above me with his arms pulled tight across his broad chest. He’s been so good to me throughout all this, giving me the time I need to work through the range of emotions and listening when I needed to rant about my situation. Holiday time has never been easy for him, this sweet man who was rejected by his own parents for simply being true to who he is. He’s been nothing but supportive and kind to me these past weeks, ignoring his own heartache in the process. The little he’s shared about his family life has left me with a bad taste in my mouth, the only exception being his twin brother, Jace, who he tries to stay in regular contact with.

  Jack rolls his eyes at my silence and smirks. “You totally just want to get laid.”

  “What? No. It’s not about that at all.” Not that I wouldn’t mind if things went there, but Roman and I have bigger issues to deal with, like the fact that I pushed him out of my life and cut all ties between us.

  Jack scoffs. “Uh huh. You’re full of shit.” Propping his hip against the kitchen counter, his blue eyes harden. “Look, I love you, but you’ve been a complete and total ass about this whole thing. Roman doesn’t deserve any of this. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to have you break up with him because that slug Will decided to make an appearance in your life.” He takes my hand and softens his voice. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing by sparing him all this crap with Will, but, beautiful, you’ve hurt him so damn much. All he ever wanted to do was love and support you.”

  “I know! You don’t think I know all this. You don’t think I haven’t told myself this same exact thing over and over again. I panicked. I did want to spare him all the unnecessary stress of Will being around. I thought I was protecting him.”