Page 39 of When We Meet Again

At least the only D that doesn’t hurt in the end unless you get burned.

My skin tingleswith the aftersun spray I got from the vegan store back in California. A mix of coconut and mango lines the room, making it feel like it’s actually a vacation. Charging a decent hit of dopamine. I take a deep inhale, finally feeling a sense of calm since I’ve stepped foot on this yacht.Thisis what Tom was talking about.Just be. Go with the flow.

It’s glorious.

I finally force myself go inside to shower when a gentle knock sounds at the door. “Come in.” I don’t know why I didn’t pretend to be asleep. There are only five of us here aside from the crew, and honestly, the only person I would want to talk to right now is Harold. A wise man who doesn’t give a rat's hiney about how his words affect others. It’s like his filter is unfiltered.

The door slowly opens, and Roman’s smiling face appears. Damn, he’s handsome. And as much as Idon’twant to see him, I’m also really glad he’s here. But not glad enough to show it. “What do you want, Rome?”

He steps in. Uninvited. One step. Then another. Then one more, not taking his eyes off me like a panther on the Discovery Channel, stalking its prey. The tension is palpable, except neither of us is willing to make the first move.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, and I hold up my hand and close my eyes.

“Which part? The lunch or the ignoring me during it?”

“I—what…?” The look of confusion on Roman’s face tells me I’m being unreasonable. And to be fair, perhaps thatwasa little uncalled for…

I’m too tired to be mad.

“I know it’s not fair for me to blame you for what went down at that table. And I shouldn’t have called Lena out like that. But it’s just the way she was talking about you and reminiscing; it made me feel…” I pause, trying to carefully select the right word.

“Jealous?” His lips tilt up in a sexy smirk. “You know I like it when you get jealous, Kensi.”

“Well, I’m not sorry.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, driving the point home. Or hoping I am.

“Good. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes fall to my lips.

Still at a safe distance—from what, I don’t know exactly—I decide to back up a little bit farther, just in case, knocking into a small wooden desk. “Is Lena okay?” I ask, fishing for details on what went on in that room, not because I care to know the answer. But I’m not feeling this petty teenager energy. This isn’t me. So it’s time to switch it up. Not give a shit. Remember who I am. No fucks given.Just be.

“You know what? I actually don’t care how she is. She comes off as this sweet young girl, but she has some serious manipulative tendencies.”

“So, ask what you really want to ask, Waverly.” His voice is low and gravelly.

My eyes narrow briefly before I stand a little taller and channel my new energy. “Are you back together?”

“No.” He steps toward me.

“I find it hard to believe you guys spent the rest of the day together with nothing happening.”

“Now that’s a different question.” He smirks. And I have a sudden urge to smack him in that smug mouth. It may soon be my only defense as he closes the distance between us. “Like I’ve said before, we’re over for good. I have a friend coming to pick her up in the morning. I just have to be on the helipad to sign off on the flight.”Nowthatfeels good.It’s like a weight has lifted, a weight I didn’t even know was there.

“Like a pirate friend?” I’m able to joke, and he laughs.His laugh makes me melt.

“Like a private helicopter. My dad’s psyched they finally get to use that helipad my mom fought him over.”

His hand finds my cheek and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes, as he whispers, “I never want you to feel insecure when it comes to me. I want you to feel fulfilled—like you’re enough. Because youareenough”Roman glances briefly at his watch before smiling back at me.

“Would you come with me for a second?” I look at his extended hand and allow my eyes to roam over the sculpted forearm cut off by his rolled-up sleeve. I’d go anywhere with those hands. Or letthemgo anywhere…

I meet his gaze and nod. “Of course.”

I take his outstretched hand, and he squeezes mine gently before tugging at me. “Where are you taking me, Rome? Are you finally sick of me? Are you going to toss me overboard?”

The irony of it all makes me chuckle.

“One death by sea is enough for now, Kensi. You’ll see,” he says, leading me around the covered, second-floor deck out to the bow of the boat. He pulls a remote from his pocket and points it at a window, and “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers starts playing.

As soon as we step out into the night air, drops of rain hit me. “What’s going on?” I laugh.

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