Page 78 of Dirty Roxie
Roxie
My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. What the fuck is Ronan doing here? And why did Daria say he’d be in China? And how in the ever-loving hell did I end up sitting next to him?
I can’t look away once I realize it’s him.
I pat blindly on my left, trying to get Jen’s attention. She turns her head to look at me. Gasping when she sees Ronan. Followed by two more gasps, I’m guessing are Al and Quinn.
He gives them a small wave from his lap, his eyes not leaving mine. And they all sit back against the pew, backs ramrod straight. None of us know what to do. Ronan looks as if he wants to say something. I shake my head and look back to the front. Someone else is saying something else, presumably about Viktor. But it’s all in Russian, so it’s hard to follow.
I feel my face heat, thankful for the cover of the babushka. But I don’t know what to do. I really want to ask him what his problem is. I want to slap him across face. Multiple times. I want to hurt him, even if it’s only half as much as he hurt me.
His hand inches over until it rests against my thigh, and I want to swoon at his touch.
God, how lame am I?
One little touch and I’m ready to jump back into his arms and forgive everything.
But when he reaches into my lap and takes my hand in his, I don’t stop him.
And when he brings the back of my hand to his lips and holds it there for far longer than what I imagine is proper, I don’t pull it away.
And when he leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’ve missed you, more than you know.” I don’t stop the smile that takes over my face.
He doesn’t let go of my hand the entire time. Not during the prayer. Not when we stand in a long processional to pay our respects. Not when he drops a flower in Viktor’s casket. Not when he pulls Daria in for a one-armed hug. And not when she smirks at me, her face all-knowing, and I realize there was no China trip and she knew Ronan would be here the whole time.
Now, if she somehow orchestrated for us to sit next to him, I’ll be impressed as hell. But I don’t think even Daria is that good.
It’s interesting to see him in his element. How everyone moves aside to let him pass, no one looks him in the eye unless he addresses them. How his car is right in front with a clear path to the exit, despite the hundreds of people also clamoring to find their cars and drivers. Including us.
He pulls me off to the side once we get down the stairs. Al goes to look for our driver, but Jen and Quinn just stand back and stare at us unabashedly. Only then does he drop my hand. But it’s to cup my face and hold it still while he kisses me. My forehead, nose, eyes, cheeks, chin, everywhere but my lips. People stop and point, whispering behind their hands, like he’s a celebrity. And maybe in this world, he is.
“May I drive you back to Daria’s? I assume that’s where you are staying.”
“I . . . uh . . . we have the car.” I gesture weakly toward where I think Al went.
“That’d be great, Ronan.” Daria appears out of nowhere. “We need an extra seat since I’m joining the girls on the ride back to the house.”
“That limo is huge, we don’t need an extra seat,” I scoff.
“I need room for my dress.” Daria points to the elegant skirt of her dress. It doesn’t need room. I know what she’s doing. We all know what she’s doing. But like with the hand holding earlier, I don’t stop it.
Instead, I let Ronan lead me to his car, where the driver opens the door for us, and Ronan helps me step in, following behind me before the driver shuts the door after us.
“Is that weird for you?” I ask.
“What?”
“Having someone open and shut the door for you.”
“It was, at first. It was actually Viktor who taught me to allow it. Now I hardly notice it.”
I nod. Looking down at my hands, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place.
“Roxie.” Ronan slides toward me and takes my hands in his. “I’m sorry.” He lowers to his knees before me. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have left. I’ve thought about you constantly, can’t get you out of my mind, to be honest. I’d all but decided that I would come to get you, but . . .” His voice trails off.
“But what?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but I ask anyway.
“But then this woman sat next to me at the service, and I felt all these things I hadn’t felt since you. And I realized that maybe you weren’t that special after all.” He smiles as he says it.
