When Roman wrote a news piece—whether he was driving home the inequities of poverty or famine, the brutal truth of ethnic cleansing in foreign lands, or the need for a variance or new zoning laws so someone with degenerative arthritis could own a pet and walk him without pain—the stories centered on people and what they needed and did to survive.
As a journalist and as a man, the objective view had been easier for Roman, and so he’d chosen to tackle the outside world while putting up blocks against his feelings for those people and stories back home. Because home represented Roman’s greatest fear—pain, rejection, loss. The kind he’d seen his mother experience.
The kind he was experiencing now because of what he’d done to Charlotte. This story was carthartic. He’d never sell it, but he’d always have it as proof of what his mother had told him: If you haven’t loved, you haven’t lived. For all his extensive traveling and experience, Roman realized, he hadn’t really lived. Now, how to convince Charlotte?
After trying the shop, he’d stopped in Norman’s, who said he’d packed a sandwich and sent Charlotte on her way. Without trying her apartment first, gut instinct told Roman exactly where to find her. He never discounted his gut.
It was that same gut feeling that had insisted should Charlotte find out about the coin toss, he’d be in deep shit, and he’d been right. Same gut that now let him know she’d never get out of his system completely. He knew that was correct as well. He rounded the corner that led to the back of her apartment.
The sun shone low in the sky. In broad daylight, he knew he was risking being seen lurking around her apartment. He didn’t care. He wanted to make sure she was okay, though he knew better than to try to talk reason with her so soon.
He stood in the shadow of the trees and looked up at her sitting on the fire escape. Alone by choice, not answering her doorbell or phone. He shook his head, hating that he’d caused her pain. Stray tendrils of hair escaped the confinement of her ponytail and blew around her pale face. She was reverently touching the pages of a book. He figured it was one of her damn travelogues. She was a dreamer and longed for things she thought were out of reach. Travel. Excitement. Her father. And Roman.
She had the nerve to start a cosmopolitan business in a sleepy upstate town, but lacked the guts to take a gamble on life. On him.
What if reality is a disappointment? she’d asked when he’d questioned her about her books, her dreams. He hadn’t answered her then, so certain he could make her fantasies come true. But a weekend getaway was a far cry from fulfilling a lifelong dream. He’d been sure he could do both.
Right now he wanted to kick himself in the ass for being so damn arrogant, so sure of himself, when Charlotte’s feelings were at stake. Thanks to her father, Charlotte expected life to let her down. Instead of proving her wrong, Roman had fulfilled every negative expectation she’d had of men.
He muttered a curse. One last glance, and he headed on home.
* * *
Raina gathered her purse and waited as Dr. Leslie Gaines typed notes on her computer. With Raina seeing Eric outside of work, she had begun using Dr. Gaines as her primary doctor. She had two reasons. She didn’t want to put Eric in the uncomfortable position of lying to her sons, and she wanted some mystery to remain for them as a couple. Silly as it sounded. If he listened to her chest with a stethoscope and viewed her as a patient through his doctor’s eyes, how could he look at her as a man would a woman?
“So your cardiogram is fine, no change. You’re healthy, Raina. All I can say is keep up the exercise and watch the rich food.”
“Yes, Doctor.” But Raina knew the words were easy. Keeping up the charade of sickness with her boys was not. Though her little fraud, as she’d begun to think about it, still gave her fits of guilt, she believed in her cause. She wanted her boys settled and happy with families of their own.
Dr. Gaines smiled. “I wish all my patients were so cooperative.”
Raina merely nodded in return. “Thanks for everything.” She left the office without seeing Eric. She preferred to save that treat for later, when the subject of her “illness” couldn’t cause an argument.
With Roman spending the day at the paper with Chase, and Rick on duty, Raina headed straight for home. She changed into sweatpants for a quick treadmill run. As she began her brisk walk, she kept one eye trained out the basement window onto the driveway in case her sons came home early. She’d flop onto the couch quickly if they did.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped off the treadmill and took a quick shower, the relief at not being caught overwhelming. By the time she finished and had a quick bite to eat, she was ready to tackle her primary concern.
Roman’s love life.
The road to romance had taken a dangerous detour with Roman’s sour mood and sudden refusal to discuss anything related to Charlotte. He’d deal with his own problems, he said. But as his mother, Raina had changed his diapers, dried the tears he’d been embarrassed to shed, and she knew his every expression. No matter how hard he tried to hide his feelings, she read them anyway. And her baby boy was hurting.
This problem with Charlotte, whatever it was, couldn’t be anything more than a bump on the road. No romance ran smooth, after all. Look at the good she’d done her youngest son so far; her “illness” had brought Roman home and had kept him in Yorkshire Falls, where he’d more
