Page 55 of When We Meet Again

Cleaned up? In my past relationship, those words meant, ‘Let me wash my hands because the thought of having any part of you on me for too long is repulsive.’ But not Roman, he comes back almost instantly with a warm washcloth.

“May I?”

“You may.” He slowly pulls my sweats down from my hips. I should feel embarrassed. We haven’t really had the whole undress and stare at each other moment. But it doesn’t feel weird or awkward with him. It just feelsright.

Roman blushes ever so slightly and licks his lips, as if every swipe of the cloth against my wet folds is a work of art. His breathing is steady, and his lips are parted. The corded muscles in his arm move with every shift of his hand. A vision I will never tire of seeing.

“What are you feeling?” His stormy eyes find mine.

“I feel like…”I love you. I’m sorry I even entertained your brother. I’m sorry I let it get so out of hand. I wish I didn’t waste so much time being unbelievably unhappy.“I could get used to this.” I decide not to take him for a deep dive into my uninhibited thoughts and ruin what this is.

“Good.” He tosses the wet rag across the room into the bathroom and falls next to me, his hand immediately finding my exposed stomach. My body erupts with goosebumps as he starts tracing circles up and down the bare skin with his finger. I haven’t bothered trying to find my shirt.

His brows pinch together as he swirls in his thoughts. “Can I ask you something, without you getting upset?”Here we go. What if he wants to be just friends with benefits?

“I guess?” I try to contain my nervousness by pulling my lip between my teeth. Not exactly sure why that would do anything to help.

“You know…down the line…would you ever think about moving out of your apartment?” His circles speed up as if he’s fighting his own anxiety.

“Depends…” I know what he’s asking. He’stotallyhinting at me moving in together. A sexy man acting adorable while beating around the bush.

His movements pause and his grays find my greens. “On?”

“Whether or not the guy I’m seeing can picture something long term with me.” I narrow my eyes, seeing if he is picking up what I’m laying down.

A grin starts on one side of his face and spreads to the other. We both lie there looking at each other as if there was never anything standing between us.

CHAPTER 28

ROMAN

These past few weeks have blown the rest of my life out of the water. Waverly and I can’t keep our hands off each other. We haven’t had sex, but keep finding reasons to touch each other. I make sure to work when she works so if she wants to hang out, I’m there with bells on.

I’ve almost missed my chance not just once, but twice, and I’ll be damned if I lose it a third. I’ll travel to the ends of the Earth for this woman. Although we need to work on her music taste…

“Whatisthis?” I ask, wincing at the radio. We’re driving to Huntington Beach for the Annual Irish Festival, and Waverly is next to me decked out in green, wearing an Erin Go Braugh hat covering her pigtails.

“It’s Dropkick Murphy’s.” She rolls her eyes and shouts. “And you claim to be Irish. Pffft,” She waves her fist in the air, waving it back and forth. “Lies, I tell you!”

“I’m Irish from my mother’s side,” I insist. I’m completely in awe of how much she has released the old pieces of herself. The emptiness, the sadness…it’s gone.

Her fingers fly in front of her and start banging on the dashboard like she’s drumming in the band. I’ve fallencompletely in love with this woman, but I won’t tell her. Not yet. Not untilshe’sready.

We pull into the dirt lot, driving through a sea of green-dressed people. Shamrock headbands and shot glasses hanging from beaded necklaces.Is that a pit bull with a green wig?

The band on stage is loud enough we can hear through the windows. “Oh! Wow!” Waverly puts the window down and sticks her head out. “Gaelic Storm! Oh my God!” My arm stings from her smack. Her green eyes widen, and her mouth is hanging open in a smile. “Roman! My mom used to take me to the Irish Festival in Pittsburgh! I met Gaelic Storm! Did you know they played in the movieTitanic?”

“The movie? Phew!” I feigned relief. “I thought you meant the actual boat.”

That earns me another roll of her eyes, but this time she leans over the center console and kisses me after. Not too long, not sexual, but familiar. Comfortable. Like we’ve been doing this for years.

Once we’re out of the car, we buy our wristbands and make our way into the crowd. The smell of corned beef and cabbage wafts in the air, causing my stomach to growl. As if Waverly can sense it, she smirks and her eyes flash with blissfulness. She tugs me to the food line and waits excitedly, bopping to the music. Today there are no shadows across her heart, and that’s all I could ask for.

“How many?” A beautiful little girl asks us when we get to the front of the line. She can’t be much older than eight. Her curly hair is a darker strawberry blonde and her eyes match Waverly’s—wide and emerald in color.

Waverly observes how the wind kicks at the girl’s curls, her face a picture of awe. “Oh my goodness! Aren’t you gorgeous! What’s your name?” A woman whom I’m assuming is her mom rubs her hands down the girl’s hair with pure affection.

The little girl looks up at her mom and her mom nods. “My name is Rylie.”

---