Page 37 of Forever Fighting
She flips me off, and I chuckle. “The MICHELIN guide gave you a three. Ah!” she screams. “Oh my fucking god, Roman. Seriously. This is amazing. Your restaurant hasn’t even officially opened yet, and it’s already a critical success. It’s all over IG, with models who likely don’t eat raving about the food.”
She chokes up, and I shake my head at her. “Why are you crying? This week is the most I’ve ever seen you cry.”
“I know.” She wipes at her face, a self-deprecating laugh tickling her lips. “It’s like Adam broke the dam open or something. But these are happy tears. I’m so, so proud of you.” She gets up and comes over to me, pushing me back and parking herself on my lap. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly, and because I can, I hug her back, holding her to me, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin. “Please tell me you’re happy.”
“I’m happy.”
She pulls back and eyes me. “Do you mean that? Your voice is doing that Roman Fritz thing where it’s all broody and serious and a little tense.”
That’s because you’re sitting on my lap wearing nothing but a bikini top, tiny shorts, and my ring on your hand. I’m trying not to get hard.
“I’m happy. Seriously, I’m very happy. Thrilled even.”
“And it’s your birthday. This is the best. We have to celebrate this.”
“Didn’t we celebrate enough last night?” I hold up my left hand.
“Different celebrating. And it’s not like you could marry me twice. The only thing left is to knock me up.”
I choke. On nothing. Jesus, this girl.
“Gotcha with that. Please, can we celebrate you?”
“We are. This is us celebrating.” My hand on her back rubs between her shoulder blades, and I will it to stay put and not wander or caress. Dancing with her last night was the same perfect torture. Then there was everything that came after.
All of that was both heaven and hell.
It’s funny, I never had trouble listening before to the warning in my head that told me to hold back. I always heeded its advice because it’s been a constant voice of reason for as long as I can remember. But it’s as if something shifted inside of me, and now new thoughts are eclipsing all that reason.
Potential. Hope. Promise. And guilt. There is that too. Strong as fucking ever.
She climbs off my lap just as quickly as she sat down and returns to her seat.
“To your continued success and to your every wish coming true.” She raises her coffee mug, and I clink mine with hers.
Right now, I only have one wish left. And I hope it finally comes true without destroying everything else.
12
BRAELYN
“Is that really called a come bet?” I ask, and Roman throws me a side-eye. “Like you’re betting to come?”
“You’re shouting.”
“I am not.”
He chuckles. “You are. But yes, it’s called a come bet, and you are technically betting to come. Or at least hit a number in that field.”
“And why do you have so many chips behind your first bet?”
“I’m backing up my bet. Putting all my faith in you.”
“Yeesh.” I wiggle my hips back and forth. “Tall order.”
“Lady, are you gonna roll the dice or what?” the cowboy next to me gripes. Roman throws him a look that could flay the skin off, well, that guy.
“She will when she’s ready,” he answers for me. “She’s learning.”
