Page 51 of For The Weekend
“I don’t know. I figured in your forties because of your siblings, but to be honest, it’s really hard to tell with you. You look anywhere from twenty-five to fifty-five. You’re ageless like The Rock.”
“The Rock is not ageless. I’m pretty sure he’s,like, fifty.”
I hike my shoulders up to my ears, dropping them heavily. “Well, you could tell me he’s thirty, and I’d believe you.”
He places his hand back on my thigh. “It bother you that I’m a decade older than you are?”
“No,” I answer immediately and honestly.
“Good.” He nods. “Now, tell me when you were diagnosed.”
“In college. I played volleyball all through high school and was really active in clubs, always out with friends. I wasthatgirl…you know, the super-talkative one, friends with everybody? It never occurred to me or my parents that the reason I was always on the go or my mind wandered was because I had ADHD. But then I went to college and…” I mime an explosion with my hands. “Everything fell apart. I didn’t have my safety net. I didn’t have a daily schedule with places to be and things to do and people telling me where to go. I had low executive functioning skills… I didn’t even know what executive functioning skills were then. Only that I couldn’t figure out how to plan my day. I couldn’t figure out what the most important thing to do was. I didn’t want to go out or do anything because I couldn’t even think about getting up to get dressed. It was too overwhelming.”
Roman runs his palm up and down my leg, soothing me, but I doubt he’s even consciously thinking about it. It doesn’t feel like it’s a decision. It feels like he’s mindlessly touching me because he likes it. Because he’s already realizedIlike it.
I continue with the rest of my story, feeling more emotionally safe than I have in a long time. “I ended up failing out of school and went home. Mommy dearest was pissed at me, but after a few weeks, it was my dad who took me to an appointment to see a psychologist and then a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with ADHD and depression. They put me on some antianxiety and depression meds, whichturned everything around with help from a therapist so I could understand coping mechanisms—and why I could function in high school, but suddenly not in college. It took about a year, but in that time, I became obsessed with baking. So, I went back to school and got a degree in business to learn how to open my own bakery, and fast-forward a few years, here I am.”
“With me,” he says, an echo of what I said during our dinner.
“With you,” I agree.
And it’s with that calming thought that he makes a turn onto the long drive leading up to the lodge.
It’s huge and luxurious, set back against the trees at sunset, like a Bob Ross painting. Happy little trees and happy little people, but all I feel is anxiety.
Until Roman opens my door and takes my hand. “I got you.”
It’s all I need to hear to take those steps up the small slope and enter the foyer of the stone building, all rustic beauty and expensive crystal. With a duffel on his back, and the rest of our bags in his right hand, he threads the fingers of his left hand with mine, a silent reminder that he’s got me.
At the check-in desk, he lets me take the lead but stands behind me, caging me in, almost like he’s protecting me from whatever enemy is lurking in the lobby, which has me giggling as I accept our room keys. He tosses me a curious look as he holds my hand once again, but I merely shake my head and point to the elevator.
Our room is up on the third floor, and when I offer to carry my bags, he rolls his eyes at me, gently smacking my ass with one of them as I lead us up to our room. I open the door, allowing Roman in first, but he freezes only a few steps inside.
“What’s wrong?” I stand on my toes, trying to peek over hisgiant frame, but only make out the door across from us, which leads to a balcony. “My mom booked the room. Is it all right?”
“Yeah. Fine by me, but…” He shifts, allowing me to scoot past him and see the bed.
Thebed.
One. Bed.
I let out a breath and squeeze my eyes shut. “She was worried I wouldn’t book in time and told me she’d do it. I didn’t think… I should’ve…” I spin to face him. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because…” I gesture behind me to the lone bed. Granted, it’s enormous, but still. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He tosses the bags on the floor and sprawls out on the bed, hands behind his head. “This might actually be the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.”
I flop next to him. “Don’t find many beds that fit a refrigerator, huh?”
“Nope.”
“You aren’t mad?”
He angles his head to me, his face set in annoyance. “No. I’m not mad.” His dark eyes make a circuit of my face. “There are very few things that will make me mad. One of them happens to be anyone who’s made you feel so self-conscious.”
I roll onto my side, suddenly wanting nothing more than to curl up next to him. Fall asleep with my head on his shoulder. Name my firstborn after him…the usual.
