Page 76 of When We Meet Again

I start to pass him, hoping he’ll follow me into a crowd of people. I can’t trust myself to keep my hands from him right now. “You know I’ve missed your past three birthdays.”

One thing that is never scarce in the Huxley’s house is seating areas. Whether it’s sofas, chairs, hammocks, recliners, there is always a place to sit. So I do. I plop down onto a tan loveseat, leaving plenty of room for Roman who instead, chooses to sit smack next to me, leaving enough room on the other side of him for an extra person on this two-person sofa.

“But you’re here now,” he says in a low voice, his eyes becoming dark and stormy.Dangerous territory.My gaze drops to his lips for an instant and bounces back to his eyes, except I find him staring atmylips. We stay in that moment. As if I’m daring him to kiss me. Something we haven’t done since the night after Patrick came back home. We start to lean into teach other, ignoring the birthday bustle around us until a balloon popping brings us back to the moment and he retreats, putting a little space on the sofa.

Of course.

“And you didn’t miss anything. After my twenty-first birthday, I usually just had a small lunch with Mom, Dad, and Patrick.” His hands are clasped together as he leans on his knees. “I used to ask Patrick to invite you.”

“He never said anything.” It comes out more as a whisper as I’m trying not to let the anger toward Patrick ruin what’s left of my life.

“I figured as much.” Roman exhales. “Listen…will you stay til the end?”

“CAKE!” Janine shouts from the kitchen. “We need the birthday boy in the dining room!”

Roman runs his hands through his thick head of black hair, and groans loudly. “She is making me feel like I’m turning ten again. This is excessive.”

I stand and place my hand on his chest. “Roman, your mom has been through a hell of a lot over the past year and a half. She had to bury a son. And even though that son is in the next room, the stress she went through…I mean, no parent should have to ever go through that.” His gaze locks onto mine, glossing over with unshed tears. “Let her sing to you. Let her celebrate you.”

Roman cups my cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along my cheekbones. “How are you so amazing?” His brows pinch and his tongue darts out to his lips. A sign that’s all too clear that there is a kiss incoming in 3-2?—

“There he is! Roman, we need you to come in to blow out your candles.” Patrick clears his throat, turning away, after giving me a tight smile.

Roman’s hands fall to his sides, but not before he taps the tip of my nose. “To be continued.”

And I’m left with cold cheeks from the lack of his touch. Awkwardly, I peer around trying to find something to do, because right now, I feel like a child on a swing set who can’t find their guardian.

A few minutes later, due to a match-meeting-candle malfunction, Janine carries out the cake with one hand, shielding the candles from the air with the other.

“Happy birthday to you…” she starts, and everyone joins in. This is quite a pitchy bunch, and it causes me to giggle instead of singing.

Roman catches me through the light of the candles in front of him and points to me. “Waverly isn’t singing, Mom!”

My mouth falls open and a laugh bursts out of me. Friends and family are still singing and ignoring the antics. “Did you justtattleon me? To your mom?!” I slap my hand over my heart in fake hurt and he laughs. Dear God Almighty, is he the most handsome man already, but when he smiles? I feel it in my soul. A deep, penetrating ardor that’s only been familiar in Roman’s presence.

The rest of the voices fall to the end of the song, and Janine’s face is covered in a smile that only mothers give to their children. One full of unconditional love. “Blow out the candles, honey.”

Roman’s face tips forward ever so slightly, causing his dark hair to fall over his forehead, close to his eyes. His dark brows furrow just enough before he looks at me through his beautiful, long black lashes. A quiet gasp escapes me. His look is feral. Nothing innocent about it. Nothing that is appropriate for being in the company of family, or friends. Or Patrick. I rub my thighs together trying to relieve some of the ache that’s been building since he almost kissed me, and the tips of his mouth curl up in a purely evil grin. He then brings his lips into the shape of an “O” and blows out the candles, gaze still locked onto me. It looks like it’s happening in slow motion, pulling me under his seduction.

Well, shit.

“Time for dessert,” one of his uncles blurts from the other room.Dessert, indeed.

“What’d you wish for?” Harold slaps Roman on the shoulder while Janine plucks the charred candles from the cake.

“To dive headfirst into a dessert that’s been long overdue.” He beams over in my direction, his eyes boring into mine and I gulp.

My face turns a deep shade of red while partygoers start lining up for a piece of cake. There is no way to mistake his innuendo. Either everyone’s choosing to ignore it, or they are in a complete trance over this cake that looks like it’s from the local grocer.

The party continues around us, the older guests beginning to filter out, leaving the younger crowd behind… And myself, to get rowdy and close down this party. A yawn haunts me as I hover over the veggie tray, and I try to choke it back, which causes my face to distort before I cover it.

“It’s okay to yawn.” Patrick laughs from beside me.

“I know,” I snap, tensing at his proximity. This man is here giving me permission to yawn.Pffft.

He turns his entire body to face me.

A girl was just trying to grab some carrots and ranch.

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