Page 38 of When We Meet Again

My mom sets her fork down, exhaling an ‘oh brother’, and giving my dad a look before he takes another massive bite of his tuna steak. He obviously gives zero shits about how unpleasant this is for us.

“No! Dad, what?” Roman growls loudly into his hands. “This is my worst nightmare.”

CHAPTER 21

WAVERLY

Fortunate:I found fresh grapes in the fridge. They were so fresh; I ate almost the whole bag.

Unfortunate:I don’t recommend that anyone eat almost a whole bag of grapes. My stomach aches!

I knowI have no right to feel so pissed, but this girl is really starting to push my buttons.

“I love Roman. He’sitfor me. And he wanted me here. I wasinvited.Just like you.” Lena’s lips purse as she cocks a brow, as if she’s challenging me to a verbal duel. Something I’m just not up for thanks to being the ripe age of forty in a few hours.

Zero fucks.

I watch her eyes dart to Harold and Janine, but to no avail, she’s left to fend for herself.

“Youwere invited by Janine, andIwas invited because it’smybirthday.” My voice rises at the end, “It’s time away with family.” I hate this feeling inside of me. I’d love to admit I was petty as a younger woman, but that’s just not the case. Something about Lena trying to dig her claws into Roman is causing me to go feral.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t come all this way foryou. I came for Roman. Ever since you showed up at his house unannounced, he didn’t shut up about you after you left.” Lena throws her hand as if she’s pushing the idea away.“Acting like his aunt. Pffft,” she continues.

Janine drops her fork and it chimes off the plate, startling me.

“I neveractedlike anyone. You insisted I was his aunt, wouldn’t let me get a word in…”

“I wasn’t going to let some old lady come in and take one of the few men of my generation who has manners, actually respects a woman, and wants a committed relationship,” Lena snarls. Her lip curls as she spews all of these things that Patrick told me Roman is not.

I pause at her words. I can’t do this. I’m so sick of fighting over men who don’t fight for me. I may not care what anyone thinks of me, especially when I’m out in the world living my life unapologetically. But not when it comes to Roman. I worry. Not about the age gap. Okay, a little about the age gap. More of trying so hard to be perfect for a man who stripped me of everything I was as a person.

An old lady?That was the exact label I’ve been trying to avoid. Alas, it’s happened, and I swallow the lump in my throat trying to choke back the tears that are threatening to break free in front of everyone.

Roman clears his throat from beside me. “I had no idea you felt this way, Lena.”

“You know what?” I stand and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry…to all of you. And Lena. I’m just… still figuring my stuff out. Excuse me.”

"Kensi, wait!"

I continue to walk away and don't turn back. I'm done with this shit. Done with the pitying glances from my ex-fiancé’sparents. Done with the abuse from a girl I couldn't give a tiny rat's ass about. Done with the mixed signals from this boy I shouldn't even be interested in. I'm just done.

Two hours.I heard them come back, him murmuring, her giggling, as they headed into his —theirroom. They’ve been in there, directly across the hall from me—four feet—fortwo hours. I’m trying not to care. ‘Try’ being the operative word here. My hands are trembling, and my heart is banging against my rib cage. I care. I don’t want to, but I care. And I’m hurt. He didn’t even defend me back there. I mean, why should he? It’s not like we’re together. But I thought we had something…How wrong I was.

My body is begging me to take my ear away from my door and just knock on his.

But I heard her expression of love. I saw his face.

If they’re back together, so be it.

If they’re screwing, I can move on. Not that there’s even anything to move on from. Allwe’vehad are a few brief, but charged, run-ins with inexplicable static sparking every time he’s too close.

They’vegot a history. And probably more than just sparks between them…

I’m wasting this trip sitting here, avoiding Lena, and worrying about what everyone else thinks of me. Hell, this trip was originally plannedforme. So why shouldIbe the one tiptoeing around?

“That’s it.” I slip on my favorite lavender-colored bikini and finally open my door. I pause briefly and stare at Roman’s, like somehow, he’ll magically know I’m outside and open thedoor. Of course he doesn’t. There isn’t some magical connection between us. There isn’t some extraordinary pull.

But therearea couple of hours of decent sun left. “It’s time to get some D.”

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