Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
My eyes go to the seat across from us, and I press my lips together when I catch Jimmy looking at me. The guy rubs me the wrong way, and it has nothing to do with the way he acts as if he’s God’s gift to humankind nor the arrogant way he carries himself. It’s something else, something I haven’t been able to put my finger on. What I do know for sure is he’s a dick.
From the moment we got to the airport in Vegas, he’s made it clear my presence is unwanted, and I literally had to talk Roman into not tossing him off the plane for his snide remarks. Something I later regretted doing while sitting through an almost five-hour flight with him glaring at me between typing away on his cell phone.
As the car begins to slow on a street that isn’t as busy as some of the others we’ve driven down since coming over the bridge into Manhattan, my heart pounds, and nervous energy makes my breathing stutter.
The concept of joining Roman in New York at some point was not something I put much thought into. I never considered meeting his family, especially not under such difficult circumstances.
But as we park in front of the hospital, I know there is no way for me to avoid meeting them now. After double parking, the driver—a large older man who Roman introduced as Robert when he picked us up at the airport—exits and walks around the hood. As soon as he opens the back door, Jimmy jumps out like the car is on fire.
“Goodbye to you too,” I mutter, and Roman chuckles, getting out after him. Turning back toward me, he reaches for my hand and helps me out.
“Thanks.” I step up onto the sidewalk while he claps Robert—who is still holding the door—on his shoulder. “Take Elora’s and my bags to my place, but tell Clifford to leave them in my room and that we will sort through them when we get home.”
“Of course, sir.” Robert dips his chin before slamming the door shut and walking around to the driver’s side.
“Who’s Clifford?” I ask quietly, and Roman looks down at me.
“My house manager.” I nod like I have a clue what that means.
I don’t.
Just like I didn’t know what he really meant when he said we were going to the airport and catching a flight was that we were actually getting on a private plane where the pilots knew him by name.
His eyes roam over my face. “Ready?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“I hate being back here.” He glances at the building we’re standing in front of, and my stomach hurts for him.
“I’m sorry.” I slide my hand into his. I want to tell him it will be okay, but I have no idea what we will be walking into. Having heard his mom say she was sorry when he spoke with her on the phone, I hope this reunion with his family goes all right. I hope enough time has passed to allow everyone to heal a little and find some perspective, but you just never know how things will go. Especially when emotions are running so high.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lean into him as we head for the sliding doors of the hospital.
As soon as we step inside, the coldness and smell are so hauntingly familiar that my stomach churns, and my feet itch to take me right back outside. I haven’t been in a hospital since my mom passed, and I forgot the heaviness that fills the air, like the weight of everyone’s worries is trapped within the walls with no way to escape.
We don’t stop at the front desk. Instead, we head for the elevator and up to the floor his grandmother is on while they evaluate if she needs surgery—something that has been debated all day. A debate Roman wanted no part of, not after the situation with Val, and I don’t blame him. There is only so much weight one person can carry on their shoulders, and I know he’s still lugging around the weight of choosing to take Val off life support.
When we get off the elevator and start down a long hall with private rooms on each side, a group of three women standing outside of one stop talking and look in our direction. Instantly, I know the beautiful older woman in the group is Roman’s mother since she shares her unusual eye color with her son. And I’d bet money that the two younger women are Roman’s sisters. They look exactly like the woman they’re standing with, from their blond hair to their tall, slim figures.
“Roman,” his mom whispers right before she sobs, covering her mouth.
Untangling my fingers from his so that he can go to her, I watch them embrace, feeling my throat get tight. I look at the two women, watching them with tears in their eyes, and my body relaxes when they close in on Roman, whose big body accepts all their weight with ease as they hug him too.