Page 74 of For The Weekend
Roman’s eyes widened like a bunny being hunted, and I supposedthisis what my mountain of a man’s afraid of. He’s let me in, has told me about his addiction and family, but bringing up Mazie’s mom?
Pure terror.
“Why?” he asks, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Why?” I cough a dubious laugh. Isn’t it obvious?
Roman’s an amazing father, and the more time I spend with Mazie, the more I’m coming to care about her. I can’t go on like this—wecan’t go on like this—without having the truth between us.
I have feelings for Roman. Big feelings. The kind that make me daydream and keep me up at night. And I think he has feelings for me too, but there’s no way I can keep putting myself out there with him if he’s not going to allow me into his life completely. I’ve been burned enough in the past, and I deserve someone who puts as much energy into a relationship as I do.
To say nothing of how nosy I am. Clearly, there’s somethinggoing on that is out of the ordinary, and I want to know.Needto know.
“Because…” I wave a hand between Roman and me. “Don’t you want to tell me? I mean, I basically word-vomit every thought I have in my head to you, and it’s a bad habit I have, but I also do it because I want you to know everything about me. And I…” I shrug, plopping my hands in my lap. “I want to know everything about you. That is…if you feel the same way about me. I had a lot of fun tonight with you and Mazie, and I’d like to keep hanging out with you because I like Mazie. But Ireallylike you. And I feel I need to draw boxes on a note or something embarrassing like that, like, ‘Do you like me? Check yes or no.’ ’Cause I’m checking yes, and I’m hoping by you telling me about Mazie’s mom that means you’ll check yes too.”
The room falls silent after my chaotic confession, the echo of my words hanging in the air like I screamed them. I might as well have for how he’s staring at me.
I start backpedaling, scooting to the other end of the couch. “If you don’t feel the same way?—”
“I want to tell you,” he says, his dark eyes searching mine. I can see the gears turning behind them, weighing his options, deciding how much of his guard to let down. “I want to tell you everything about me because…” He dips his chin, takes a breath that raises his shoulders and chest before licking his lips and meeting my gaze again. “I’m checking the yes box.”
I smile. A big, huge, idiotic smile.
Then I immediately lose it because he says, “But this isn’t easy to tell, and I don’t…” He trails off, scrubbing at his beard for a while, then leans back against the cushions, his focus on the wall across from us. “You were the last thing I expected when we moved here. I wanted to come here for a fresh start, and ever since I’ve met you, I feel like I didn’t just get a fresh start, I got kicked into another universe.”
I wince. “Is that good?”
He angles his face to me, lips quirking to the side. “Yeah, sunshine. It’s really good. Real fucking scary too.”
I crawl back to his side, sitting next to him, hip to hip, my thigh against his, and lean my head on his shoulder. “I get that, and if you don’t want to tell me right now, you don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”
Two minutes pass, Roman’s steady breathing the only soundtrack as the movie has finished, the television screen displaying the streaming menu, and I watch the digits in the corner change. But then I feel his lips against my head as he inhales audibly, like he’s smelling my shampoo.
Then he tells me, “Her name is Amy. She was…broken. Like me. So, being with her was easy. I didn’t have to face any hard things since we were running away from them. We ran away together.”
He shifts, forcing me to pick my head up from his shoulder, and he takes my hand in his, completely encompassing it. I stay quiet, but I do place my other hand on top of his, silently encouraging him.
“We burned hot and fast, moved in together almost immediately and spent every night getting drunk and high on whatever drug we could find. We both liked pills, but she could be more adventurous than me, and for as big as I am, her tolerance was much higher than mine.” He lifts his eyes to mine, unflinching in his truth. “Then she got pregnant, and we were both really excited. You pretty much know the rest of my story, except the part about Amy.”
“Doesn’t go in the same direction as yours?” I guess, and he shakes his head.
“I had times of intermittent sobriety, but I needed this time to stick, and since we were doing it together, I thought we could keep each other on track, but…” He exhales raggedly and drags his hand over his hair and face. “I don’t know what it was like for her after she had Mazie. I don’t know what women have to go through, but I know what I saw, and I didn’t like it. Whatever she may have been feeling or dealing with, it wasn’t an excuse to start using again. I know that’s hypocritical of me to say. We’re both addicts, and I have no room to judge her, but we had ababy. If she couldn’t stay sober for her, then she wouldn’t ever be sober.”
I hide my frown, feeling sympathy for the woman. Though I’ve never been pregnant, I know postpartum is hard. I sat with Sloane after she had both of her babies. It’s not easy, physically or mentally, and while I don’t think it’s my place to tell Roman what to think or feel about his situation, I also think it’s easy to sit in judgment of others’ mental health struggles. It’s easy for us to know what’s best for other people when we haven’t been in their shoes.
Sure, she made terrible choices, but she’s human, like the rest of us. Flawed and struggling.
“I tried to make it work for Mazie’s sake. But in the end, I had to put my daughter first. Amy’s usage got worse and worse, and she was eventually arrested.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth, but he plows on.
“It was… It was horrible. We were there—me and Mazie. She saw her mom be arrested, and I don’t…” He blows out a big breath. “I’m not sure if that’s something she’ll ever get over, but Amy is going to be in prison for a few years. It’s been almost thirteen months that she’s been there, and Mazie needed a change. I don’t want her childhood to bethat. I want her to have good memories and feel safe. There is minimal contact between Amy and me because I need to protect my daughter. Amy’s not the mother Mazie needs right now. So…”
He clears his throat, but his voice still cracks with theweight of years-old heartache, and I wonder how many times he’s told this story. Or to whom.
I bet not many. Probably only his siblings.
Though my mind is quickly brought to a screeching halt when he tells me, “I’m now sure how to do this—you and me—so Mazie doesn’t get hurt. I feel out of my depth.”
