by Jordan Marie
“The boss needs you,” Bruno says, or rather, repeats. That’s all he or Allen have been saying since they broke into my house before dawn this morning and manhandled me into the limo. Okay, carried—and rather delicately, really, considering I’m getting so fat.
“And I told you, I doubt Roman would want me anywhere near him. Whatever is going on, you need to find someone else to help him,” I respond, not bothering to ask what in the world he needed me for, since they haven’t answered the other hundred times I’ve asked.
Silence.
I didn’t expect anything else. It’s evening now and, except for a few quick stops for restroom and food breaks, we’ve driven all day. In fact, I figure in an hour I’ll be at Roman’s house. With each mile that we travel, my nerves and panic kick up. When we turn into Roman’s private driveway, I can literally taste my fear.
“Allen, please don’t do this. Take me back home.”
“Sis, Roman—”
“I don’t want him to keep me because he knows I’m pregnant, Allen. I deserve better than that,” I tell him, and then it hits me. “Oh, God. Is that it, Allen? Does Roman know I’m pregnant and wants to take my baby?” My hand goes to my stomach, wrapping around it as if to protect him from the unknown threat.
Allen stops the car to look back at me. He cups my shoulder gently with understanding. If anything good has come out of this whole mess, it’s that Allen and I have grown close.
“He doesn’t know about the baby, Ana. I promise you. You are needed. You’ll understand when you see him.” I swallow, unable to hide the panic on my face. “I promise that I will take you back home the moment you ask me, Ana. Trust me.”
I bite my lips, but shake my head yes. There’s little I can do about it now.
“I’ll be outside for an hour, Ana. Just come out if you need me,” Allen says a little later when he opens the front door.
“You’re leaving me?” I ask, nearly choking on the fear.
“I’ll just be outside, sis. I promise.”
I close my eyes as the shutting of the door sounds so final. My nose wrinkles at the musty smell of Roman’s house. It always smelled like fresh outdoors and pine. Did his cleaning crew quit? I walk through the darkened foyer, my hand automatically feeling for the light switch on the wall because the house is completely dark. Fear swamps me. I pull the coat more towards my front, doing my best to hide my baby-bump. Was Roman in an accident? Did something happen? Is that why they wanted me here?
“Roman?” I call out, my voice little more than a whisper. When I hear nothing back, I take a breath and try to strengthen myself. “Roman?”
I stop and listen. I hear the faint sound of someone coming from Roman’s den. I make my way there, turning on the lights. What I see in the main living room stops me in my tracks. There are empty liquor bottles everywhere, Styrofoam containers that, from the smell, now contain left-overs of moldy take-out. I pull one back just to be sure and instantly close it when I take in the green and white remnants of what I think used to be a half-eaten hamburger. There’s empty soda cans and pizza boxes too. The once pristine white carpet will probably never be clean again. What the hell has been going on here?
I make it to the den, my hand stalling on the doorknob as I gather up what little courage I have. I open it, my nose curling in disgust. The stench is even worse in here. The room is completely dark. I flip on a lamp that’s on a table by the door. The room floods with light and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. Even then, it takes me a minute to understand what I’m seeing. Roman is laying on the floor, his hair grown out ridiculously long for him, the dark bangs lying haphazardly over his eyes. He’s wearing a t-shirt that I think is supposed to be white, but has obviously been through a war with beer and pizza—and lost. He has on gray jogging pants that are riding low on his hips and he’s staring straight at me, his eyes bloodshot.
“Roman?” I ask, because God’s honest truth, I can’t be sure. The man I’m staring at is nothing like the Roman, I know.
“The bitch who haunts me,” he slurs. “What are you doing here, pet? You’re early. You’re not supposed to haunt my dreams until I pass out.” He holds up a half empty bottle of whiskey, shaking it at me. “I still have some to go before I get there.”
Dear Lord. “Roman, what happened to you?”
“As if you didn’t know. You poisoned me,” he growls, and I have no idea what he is talking about.
“Roman,” I start, but he interrupts me.
“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t even fucking breathe without you in my head, your taste on my tongue, your fucking scent filling my lungs. I told you to leave, Ana. I told you to get the fuck away from me. Why can’t you leave me alone to die in peace?” he growls at me, except it’s not at me. I get the feeling he doesn’t think I’m really here.
I rub my palm across my forehead. Of all the things I expected, this wasn’t it. There’s no talking to Roman like this. I don’t even know what this means. The only thing that is clear is that he’s missed me. He’s been as miserable as I have. If I hadn’t had the baby to think about these months without him, would I have been in much the same shape? Probably.
Roman might not realize it, but we’re made for each other. I pick up the phone and dial Allen’s cell.
“Sis?”
“You and Bruno need to come help me sober up the father of my child.”
“Sis?” he asks again.
“You got me here, Allen. Now help me,” I order him, hanging up. I look over at Roman who is snoring now, and I can almost smile.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Roman
As soon as my head quits trying to kill me, I’m going to fire Bruno and Allen. I wince as the light from the window shines through, the blinds pulled up. Who the fuck did that? And why am I in this damn room? I don’t sleep in this bed. I can’t sleep in this bed. Ana haunts me here.
Fuck. She haunts me everywhere.
I look down at the bed and notice there are clean sheets on it. Even so, I can still smell the faint trace of Ana’s perfume on them. My dick jerks awake, but I ignore the fucker. He and I both are getting tired of using my hand. I get out of bed, frowning when I see a clean pair of jogging pants lying across the nightstand. I slip them on, ignoring how even the slightest movement causes pain to radiate through my joints and center in the mother of all hangovers that has taken up residence behind my eyes. Even my fucking teeth hurt. I’m way too fucking sober. I’ve been drunk for months now and today is not the day to try being sober. I walk out of the room, intent on finding another bottle of whiskey and maybe some leftover pizza. I think there’s some left in one of the boxes in the kitchen.
I stop when I enter the den and there are three women in uniforms cleaning the room. They’re wearing black pants and gray shirts that proclaim them “Helping Hand Maid Service”. What the fuck? I wrench a vacuum cleaner out of the hand of one of them and shut the son of a bitch off.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” I growl, the roar of my voice hurting me, but not nearly as much as the vacuum was doing. The ladies look at me like I’m the insane one, which is crazy because they’re the ones trespassing. “I mean it! I want to know what the fuck you are doing here and who let you in!”
“They’re cleaning.”
My breath lodges in my chest and I’m afraid to fucking turn around—afraid it’s her, afraid it’s not. Jesus.
“Ladies, if you could, go ahead and move to the kitchen. We can finish in here after Mr. Anthes and I talk.”
They hustle out, and still I’m unable to turn around. I take the coward’s way out and, instead, walk to the window. I stare out at the rolling green grass of my yard and try to figure out exactly what is going on.
“What are you doing here, Ana?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer.
“Bruno and Allen came and got me. They said you needed me.”
“I didn’t ask them to,” I grumble, my hand com
ing up to rub my chin.
“I know. Were they telling me the truth?”
“About what?”
“Do you need me, Roman?”
Yes, my brain screams out, but I don’t say that. I can’t. I go to turn around instead, needing to figure out how to talk to her and make her stay without giving in. “Ana…”
“Don’t turn around, Roman. If you’re just going to send me away again, keep your back turned to me. You owe me that. I don’t want to have to see your face if all you are going to do is send me away again. I can’t handle that.”
“Have you missed me, Ana?”
“With every breath that I draw,” she whispers, and it feels like there’s this fist around my heart. Her confession is raw and I truly want to believe it. I need to. I’m not sure, but it feels like she’s being honest. It feels like the truth, so I give her one of my own.
“I’ve missed you too, pet.”
“Then don’t send me away again, Roman. Let me come home. I know my lies hurt you—they hurt both of us. But, I never lied about anything that was important. I love you.”
Let her come home. Does she have any idea how much I want that? Does she know what it did to me to know that I pushed her away thinking she had planted evidence on me, only to find out Robert had done it? Does she have any idea the hell I’ve gone through knowing I pushed away my only chance at happiness? I used to think love was a lie invented by Hollywood, a dream created to sell books and movies. Survival was the only thing I understood, and maybe it still is, because I know I need Ana in my life to survive. Without her, I don’t want to. I don’t want to live one more day without her.
“Ana? Can I turn around now, if I ask you to stay?” I question, my voice thick. I look down at my hands and they’re shaking.
“Are you going to ask me to stay?” she asks, her voice breaking.
“No,” I tell her, turning. My eyes instantly lock onto her. “I’m going to beg…” My voice trails off because I’m standing there drinking in the woman I adore. I drink her in, her sun-kissed blonde hair shining, her violet eyes full of tears. The lavender sundress she’s wearing joins in and it all comes together to make her more beautiful than even I remembered.
The thing that freezes my voice and makes any further words impossible though is the obvious swell of her stomach.
Ana. My Ana, is… pregnant.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Ana
I see the exact moment Roman discovers I’m pregnant. I’m okay with it. After spending the night in his arms, him holding me even as he was sleeping, him whispering my name when I curled into him, I knew. He might not have said it and maybe he never will, but Roman loves me. That was evident in the way he came unraveled without me, in the way he held me last night. He loves me. I can live without the words because I feel them.
Still, even knowing that, this morning I was nervous. I was prepared to fight Roman tooth and nail to get him to admit that he needed me. Knowing he’s caving this easily makes it all okay.
“Ana?” he asks, a look of disbelief on his face and maybe, just maybe…happiness. My hand goes to my stomach, rubbing it softly.
“Surprise?” I half tell, half ask.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, panicking. Is he going to get mad about this? Because I didn’t tell him? Will he see that there was no way I was going to force him to accept me in his life, if he didn’t want me?
“We’re having a baby?”
I bite my lip and try to remember to breathe.
“A little boy.”
“You already know?” he asks, his eyes moving from my stomach to my face, as he walks to me.
“Yeah.” I’m unsure of what else to say.
“We’re having a baby,” he whispers, dropping to his knees in front of me. His large hand caresses each side of my stomach, and then he places a kiss on the middle of it. Little Roman apparently doesn’t like that, because he kicks out against his dad’s kiss. Roman’s head snaps back and he looks up at me.
“I think he might be a football player,” I tell him, smiling. I place my hand over one of Roman’s and bring it back to the spot on my stomach where the baby likes to push. In just a minute or two, I feel the fluttering sensation as the baby delivers a well-timed kick.
“Oh my God. That’s our baby,” Roman says, at a loss for words and acting in ways I never thought I’d see him.
“It is,” I tell him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
“We’re going to have a baby,” he says again, but I see the happiness on his face and something shifts inside of me.
“We are. We’re going to be a family, Roman.”
“You’re never leaving me, Ana. I can’t make it without you,” he says, allowing the fear to cloud his eyes briefly before that bone-melting dominant look returns, and his hand wraps in my hair. He brings our lips together for a kiss and right before his claims mine, he murmurs against them. “You’re never getting away from me again, pet.” I let his claim echo through my body, healing the empty spots inside of me that are remaining, and take his kiss. I don’t answer, because there’s nothing else to say.
I never want to leave Roman. I’m home to stay.
Epilogue
Ana
Roman Allen Anthes was born on November 14th at three in the morning after making me go through forty-two hours of grueling labor and nearly causing his father to go insane. It was all worth it though, and when I look at the child who is turning six months old today, I couldn’t imagine life being more complete.
“Is mommy’s baby, hungry?” I ask him, reaching down into the crib. He instantly stops crying and he reaches out to me with his little hands, knowing what comes next.
I take him to the rocking chair that Roman surprised me with when we were fixing up the nursery. It’s a beautiful handmade piece that I will cherish the rest of my life. I pull the strap from my dress and adjust my breast so the baby can begin to nurse. He latches on and greedily drinks up. It took some getting used to, but I love breastfeeding. It sounds hokey, but it feels as if by doing it, I’m affirming nature’s grand design. I even feel beautiful, even if my body is never going to get back to the shape it was in before Roman Jr. decided to wreck it.
I begin rocking slowly. Not enough movement to jar him, but just a soft, rhythmic movement that he likes. I hum his favorite lullaby. Pretty soon, his hungry grunts and swallows fill the room as his little hand wraps around my finger. I kiss his forehead and commit this to memory. Another beautiful memory in a lifetime of them. That’s what life with Roman has given me. I’m the luckiest woman on the face of the Earth. I feel that in my soul. Roman and I might have started off rocky, but the ride was more than worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing.
Epilogue
Roman
It’s two in the afternoon on a Friday and I’m home. I won’t be going back into town until sometime Monday, and if I had my way, I wouldn’t then.
I make a point of always trying to be home around this time each day. I don’t want to miss it. Ana has no idea the hoops I jump through just so I can be here in time to watch her nurse our son. When I round the corner to the baby’s nursery, I stop as the breath stalls in my chest.
Ana is humming a song and our child is suckling from her breast, greedily eating. The little grunts he makes fills the room and I smile, but my heart is full. In this room is my world. My complete world. I once thought love didn’t exist, merely survival. I was so fucking wrong. There are no words.
Love exists. I look at Ana now and I can’t believe it. I was an asshole. Hell, I still am, in many ways. I used her. I demanded her acceptance, her allegiance, and her body. I held her brother over her head and demanded she give me everything I wanted. I wanted to dominate and own her. My, how the mighty fall. I might have been unfair to her, but in the end, it was her who got the victory.
She owns me. She controls my world.
“I love you, Ana.” I tell her and her face jerks
up, realizing I’m standing beside her. At my words, tears spring from her eyes. She cries at the drop of a hat these days. I worried about it until she told me that her heart was so full, she couldn’t help it.
“I love you, Roman,” she whispers, smiling.
Love isn’t about survival. I made demand after unjustified demand, trying to own and control what no man could. Love isn’t about taking. Love is all about giving. My Ana taught me that, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing her I’ve learned the lesson well.
* * *
The End.
Note From The Author
I hope you guys enjoyed Roman and Ana’s story. I have at least one more book in this series planned, but I pushed it on the back burner, to catch up with the series that people were asking the most about. Marcum will eventually get a story though and I hope you guys give him a chance. I’m sort of partial to my “anti-hero” gang.
* * *
Xoxo
J
Other Works by Jordan Marie
Doing Bad Things
Going Down Hard
In Too Deep
Taking It Slow
* * *
Savage Brothers MC
Breaking Dragon
Saving Dancer
Loving Nicole
Claiming Crusher
Trusting Bull