Chapter 20 A Train Wreck In Slow Motion The morning light forced its way into the room, casting that perfect golden glow on everything it touched. Except me. So many memories of us like this, in this position, resurfaced. It was always because I had a breakdown. I'd always come crying to him. And he'd hold me close and never let go until I was fine. Roman never had any of such episodes, he always had his shit together. I was sprawled over him, one leg draped lazily across his waist, my cheek resting against the warm, steady rise and fall of his chest. His arms were still around me, loosely now, like neither of us wanted to be the first to let go. We were both awake. I could feel it in the way his fingers flexed gently against the small of my back, the way his chest tensed beneath me each time I exhaled.But we didn’t say anything. Not for a long, long time. Until I did. "Am I really that difficult to love?" I asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t even meant to be said aloud. Roman stiffened beneath me. “Chloe's not that great of a person, but still, somehow she manages to make a man fall head over heels in love with her. A man that dumped me. It's crazy, Roman. You should have seen them. It was like I wasn't even there.” Slowly, his fingers curled tighter against my spine. "Don’t you dare say that about yourself." I lifted my head. His eyes found mine—burning, fierce. Protective. "You think so because of that weasel? Because of that snake? Sav, if you could see yourself the way I see you—" I laughed bitterly. "You mean like a train wreck in slow motion? I can't even stand without losing my balance.” "No," he said, gripping my jaw gently. "I mean like a goddamn wildfire. Beautiful. Devastating. Alive. And not meant to be tamed." I swallowed hard, biting down the emotion clawing its way up. "You say that now," I whispered. "But what happens when it’s too much? When I ruin everything again?" He stared at me for a moment. Then, without a word, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Then we rebuild. Together. Every time. Because that's what we do. It's what we've been doing for five years, Sav.” Silence settled again as I chewed on my bottom lip, heavier than before—but not cold. Just full. I don't know what to say. I shifted a little, pressing my cheek against his chest again. My fingers idly traced the faint scar along his rib. "You and Alyssa," I murmured. "You’ve been so close yet so far from each other. There's this… huge connection between you two but you've never even met her until this week.” Roman exhaled slowly, brushing hair away from my face. "It was almost shocking. I never suspected Ryan could stray from his perfect life and have… something like this.” "How long has he been married?” His mouth pulled into a thin line. "Seven years. A ridiculously lavish event that lasted three days on his cruise ship. Sea sickness nearly ended me.” I chuckled. Images of Roman hunched over the railing and spewing his guts were automatically conjured. At the back of my mind, I did the obvious math. Emily is just five. Oh Alyssa, what were you thinking making the same mistake? "Emily," I said more softly. "She does look like you… in a way. Especially around the eyes.” Roman's eyes dimmed. "She is his. I guess we kind of do look alike." I nodded slowly. "I take it you guys aren't close.” He didn’t answer right away. Then he said, quietly, “No, we're not. It's complicated.” I playfully walked my fingers up his chest. His eyes followed the movement. I gave a light shrug. “I can listen.” His face hardened instantly and he looked away. “No. There's nothing to tell.” I noticed it was a sensitive topic and he probably wasn't ready to talk about it. So I dropped it. Another silence stretched. Downstairs, we could hear faint bursts of laughter. Forks against plates. A cork popping. Emily was home. She had been discharged this morning. The doctors said she was free to go. A knock sounded on the door, light and playful. My mom peeked in. Hair wild. Eye bags on display. Pale, ashen skin. Eyes a little red around the rims. Even her lips were chapped. She looked worn out and exhausted. "You two lovebirds coming down for cake and wine or should we just send you a slice with two forks?" She tried to smile. Roman smirked. I blushed. "We’ll be right down," he said, voice calm and even. “Don't take too long.” She playfully scolded us. “And don't forget to get some rest, mom. You look tired.” I added. “I will.” She winked and shut the door. He groaned softly and shifted. "I should shower. Unless you want to go first?” I shook my head. "You go. I’m still—processing." He stood, stretching. Then, without ceremony, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down. My heart tripped. I turned my back quickly, facing the other side of the room—but my gaze caught on his laptop screen perched on the desk. The dark reflection on the blank screen acted like a mirror. And oh, I looked. His broad back flexed as he rolled his neck, muscles rippling down to his narrow waist. The sweatpants he tossed aside hit the bed and left him completely bare, unapologetic in his nudity. I caught a glimpse of the sculpted lines of his thighs, the broadness of his back and shoulders, the curve and tightness of his ass, the sheer ease in the way he existed in his own body. My eyes landed on that part of him. The part that posed a threat to our friendship. The part that my treacherous body reacted to without thinking. My breath hitched. He was magnificent. Majestic. Very magnetic, I couldn't look away. It was as if I was compelled to keep my eyes on him. A pulse fired to life low in my stomach. My nipples tightened, breasts prickling against the thin fabric of my dress. My thighs pressed together instinctively. You shouldn't be feeling this way, Savannah. He ran a hand through his hair, yawned, and strolled into the bathroom like there was no one else in the room. I would never understand how he feels so comfortable being in my presence like this. I stared at the black screen long after the door clicked shut. God help me. He came out a few minutes later, towel slung around his hips, damp hair clinging to his forehead. "You okay, Sav?"I nodded. "Yeah. Just… hungry." He tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Food-hungry or…?" "Roman," I warned, laughing despite myself. I could feel my ears flaming up. He grinned. "Vertigo acting up?" "A little. It’s manageable." "Need help showering?" My cheeks warmed. "No. I just need help pulling these tights down my legs." He stepped behind me, careful, gentle. His knuckles brushed the bare skin of my waist as he slowly, slowly dragged the tight material down the curve of my ass. I shivered. His breath hitched. "You’re freezing." I wasn’t. My core throbbed with a fierce, aching need. My nipples strained harder against the lace of my bra, every nerve in my body sparking.He noticed. I knew he did. He finally got it down to my ankles and I pulled it all the way off successfully. "Thanks," I said quickly, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. I needed a cold shower. Or a priest.