Page 10 of Sinful Escape

“Mother said it was just another bloody mouth to feed.”

“We’ve had heaps. Dogs, cats, birds. I had pet mice for a while, Mamma hated them.”

“I did have a stray cat once, Princess. I managed to hide her for a while. But then we moved.” I recalled crying so hard as I’d waved goodbye to Princess through the car’s rear window. Maybe that was when I’d started to hate my mother.

Before I tumbled into that hell, I said, “What does your dad do for a living?”

“Papà?” Roman’s grin grew even bigger. “He’s retired. Spends all his time fishing. He claims it’s to feed everyone, but I think it’s his tactic to get away from all of us.”

“Aren’t you doing the same by taking this job?”

“Si, you could say that. But even though there are always things going on, and people coming over, small-town life can get claustrophobic.” He met my gaze and shrugged. “I still love them.”

His relationship with his parents and the rest of his extended family was something I thought only happened in those wholesome Disney movies. I slouched in my seat, settling into the bus’s repetitive motion.

My whole life had been sculpted around uncertainty. But the one thing I did know when I left Melbourne years ago was that I had to get away. And the farther, the better. I couldn’t be around William anymore. Or the whispers that abounded every time I walked into a room. Or every fucking item in the apartment we’d shared together for years.

It had been time for me to find myself. So, I took off and never looked back.

Shit. In six months, I will have to go back. And I still haven’t found myself. Oh, God.

Roman turned to me with raised eyebrows. “You okay?”

Crap. I must’ve groaned or something. “What? Yep, I’m fine.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Roman’s intense gaze made my chest squeeze.

“Oh ummm.” Jeez. This was the trouble with a chatty driver. I didn’t want to talk about that letter, and there was no way I was going to discuss my ex. I racked my brain for something witty to say.

“Come on, tell me.” He flicked his visor down to shield his eyes from a bolt of sunlight that suddenly carved through the clouds. “We’ve got nothing else to do.”

Shit. “Are you always this chatty?”

“No. With all the women in my family, I rarely get a word in.”

“Well, you’re making up for it now.”

He huffed. “I’ve never met a woman who didn’t want to talk.”

Rolling my eyes his way, I huffed out a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk. It’s just . . . I have a lot on my mind.”

“Okay. I’ll wait.” He settled into his seat and readjusted his hands on the wheel. He gave me the impression he could wait forever. I’m in trouble.

Deciding to capitalize on his momentary silence, I plucked my phone from my bag and sent a text to the one person in the world who could save my sanity. Azalia.

Hey Zali, you awake?

Her reply came in a flash.

Of course. Kane is teething. I can’t remember the last time I slept. What’s up?

Shit.

My best friend was once a beauty therapist with the world at her feet but is now a single mom to a one-year-old and the full-time carer of her mother who has dementia. And here I am about to complain about Mr. Chatty who’s hotter than fuck. Worst best friend ever.

Just checking how you’re doing?

Cryptic. Sounds to me like something is going on.

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