Page 33 of When We Meet Again

Completely avoiding the question, his dad answers, “When are we pulling out, Captain? I want to fish, damnit.” Harold laughs and eyes the beautiful view.

I still can’t believe Roman knows how to sail. I’ve seen his Instagram. His reels are out of this world, but to handle something this big? It’s longer than half of a football field. Impressive.

Roman flashes me the same grin his dad just gave me. “Yeah, Kensi. I know I calledyouCaptain earlier, but you didn’t seriously think you were sailing it, did you? Although…” Oh God. I don’t like the look in his eye. Or the damn smirk on his face. “Maybe if you’re agood girl,I’ll let you give it a whip.”

My face overheats at his words.Good girl.I feel like a teenager with raging hormones at the thought of him using those words someplace his father isn’t present. God. This is so embarrassing.

Roman seems to like my reaction to his words. His grin is still there, but his stare is bold, making my body ache for his touch.

I can’t help but wonder if he offered the same enticing proposition to Lena.

“Harold!” Janine shouts his name from another area of the boat. I barely take my eyes from Roman because I can’t.

“Oh, what does she want now? Always calling my name.” Harold pops up from his chair, dropping the last square of cheese on the deck. Roman never looks away from me, but I turn to watch his dad kick the cube off the back and into the water.

We both watch Harold walk up the steps to the sun deck, mumbling to himself. But I let out a giggle while Roman shakes his head before he crosses the deck and takes his dad's vacatedseat beside me. He leans toward me, his elbows on his knees and his face suddenly serious. Or as serious as he can feign in the moment.

“Your birthday’s tomorrow. Do you know what time you were born?” he asks with the mystery in his eyes beckoning to me.

And not missing a beat, I joke, “Why? You want to read me my horoscope?” A laugh floats up his throat. A magical sound that can turn any bad day into a good one.

“No, smartass.” He nudges my knee with the tips of his fingers. “I have something for you, but it has to wait until that exact moment.”

I fight a smile pretty damn hard but fall short. Somehow, he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. It’s different with him. Not bad, maybe better.

No, I like it. No. Iloveit. There, that’s one thing I’ve learned to love again…

“I was born eighteen minutes after midnight.”

“Twelve-eighteen. Got it.” His tongue skirts over his top teeth as if he’s in deep thought. “I have one more question.” If it were even possible, he’s leaned closer toward me, his knees gently brushing against mine. And that electric current between us charges the air as I wait with anticipation for his next words. He lets he silence hang between us. He must feel the sizzle, too, because surely, he’d just want to get out with it? Right?

“What do youreallywant for your birthday?” he finally asks, his voice deep as his eyes drop to my lips. Automatically, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

I want tonotfeel this way around you, where all I want is for you to pull me into the best kiss of my life and to dance with me in the rain. I want you to tell me one more time that turning forty means nothing when it comes to us being together. I want…I want not to want you.

But is that last part true?

Ican’tlike you.

I exhale a long breath into the breeze.No, that’s not true. Not even a little bit.

I follow his gaze to the necklace that carries the ring Patrick gave me, and watch his shoulders fall and his smile disappear. His tone is slightly flatter as he speaks again, “I’m still waiting, Kens. What do you want?” The low rumble in his voice sets my nerves on fire and butterflies are taking flight in my stomach, trying to get out.

But before I can open my mouth to answer, his dad shouts from the deck above, “Roman Huxley, get your hiney to the bridge. It’s time to set sail if we’re going to celebrate the little lady's birthday before I go to bed!”

Roman lets out a sigh and I feel his warm, minty breath on my cheek. “Looks like that’s my cue,” and without another word, he gets up and disappears through the sliding glass doors.

I’m out of breath and goosebumps have erupted over my arms and legs like I’m freezing. But I’m opposite. I’m hot…for him. My internal alarms are ringing while my heart is plummeting to my stomach. I sit back trying to calm the hell down, not paying any attention to him or his parents, or the fact that Lena is probably following him around like a puppy dog. Box breathing for the win.

A cool breeze kicks up once the boat starts moving. The horn sounds as we pull away from the dock and not even minutes later, the Italian sun is kissing me in all the right places, warming my soul. Well, it’s warming the only part that hasn’t been marinating for Roman Huxley.

Tom’s words from his latest letter ring in my head. “Enjoy the moments you have with the people you choose to surround yourself with. Allow yourself to be happy.”

The gurgle of the engine drowns out people talking on the docks as we reverse. The water sloshes behind me and I allow my thoughts to drift.

What does happiness look like for me? Happiness is family. It’s enjoying my life. Having the option to get a tattoo without being reprimanded by someone. Getting a piercing without him telling me I’m too old. It’s laughing during a sunrise when I stayed up all night looking at the stars. It’s dancing without a care in the world, not caring what anybody thinks of the way I’m moving. It’s feeling the ability to be vulnerable, yet safe, in someone's presence. It’s being able to be the person I want to be when I’m with someone. It’s being forty and giving zero fucks about anything that doesn’t serve me.

I close my eyes and smile at the sunny sky. “Yes,” I whisper to myself.

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