Chapter 54 A Swim Roman The drive home was ghostly quiet. Savannah sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as if the world rushing by outside was more interesting than anything inside the car. Her profile was unreadable, her lips pressed together so tightly they looked carved in stone. Her arms folded across her chest. I wanted to reach for her hand. I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to drown in silence, that she didn’t have to feel sad because her ex is having a baby with her sister. But I knew her well enough to know that if I pushed too soon, she’d hide her pain behind a joke. So I drove, my jaw tight, my grip squeezing the wheel until we pulled into the driveway. I unlocked the door and led her inside. The house was quiet, almost oppressively so. Not a single soul, no clinking dishes in the kitchen, no footsteps echoing through the halls. Just silence wrapping around us. Her shoulders were still drawn tight beneath my jacket, her eyes far away. I kept my hand on her waist as we climbed the staircase, guiding her gently. She let me touch her, let me lead her, but she still wasn’t letting me in. At least not how I wanted. When we reached our room, she slipped my jacket off and draped it neatly over a chair before sinking onto the edge of the bed. Her hands smoothed the hem of her dress over and over. I crouched in front of her, taking her chin gently between my fingers, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Talk to me, Savannah. Tell me what’s wrong.” She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.” “Don’t do that,” I pressed, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t shut me out. You looked like you’d seen a ghost back there.” Her lips trembled, but she forced them still. “I’m fine, Roman. Really.” I searched her face. Every line of it screamed the opposite. She looked like she had survived a storm. “Are you sad because Chloe and Dean are having a baby?” I asked carefully, watching her. Her body stilled. A tiny flicker crossed her eyes, but she blinked it away as quickly as it came. “No,” she said firmly. “That’s not it.”“Sav—” She stood abruptly, cutting me off. “I just… need to clear my head, Roman.” She smoothed her dress again. “I’m going for a swim.” Before I could respond, she retreated into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her, locking me out. I raked a hand through my hair, pacing. She was shutting me out, and I hated it. Every instinct in me screamed to break down that damn door and demand the truth. But I forced myself to wait. Minutes dragged by slowly, heavy and suffocating. Finally, the bathroom door opened. Savannah stepped out in a white bathrobe, her damp hair spilling over her shoulders, her skin glowing from washing away the makeup. She was now bare-faced, and even more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. She didn’t look at me. She just padded past, silent as a ghost, the soft pad of her feet on the floor was the only sound in the room. I followed. Down the staircase. Across the polished marble hall. Through the glass doors that opened onto the backyard.The night air outside hit cool and sharp, brushing against my heated skin. I watched as Savannah walked to the pool, undoing the knot of her robe. She let it slip from her shoulders, falling in a white heap on the stone tiles. And then she slipped into the water. My chest constricted. She submerged herself, then came up, bare skin glinting in the moonlight. The water caressed every line of her, every curve. She was a vision, dangerous and devastating, like something pulled straight out of a dream designed to ruin me. My body reacted instantly. My blood heated, rushing straight to my groin as my pulse thundered. Savannah. My Savannah. I yanked off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, and dove in after her. The water slapped cool against my overheated skin, shocking me. But as soon as I surfaced, I saw her. And nothing else mattered. She turned at the sound, her hair slicked back from the water, her eyes wide. But she didn’t speak. She just floated there, watching me.I deliberately swam closer. Not forcing. Not chasing. Just closing the distance one stroke at a time. When I reached her, I didn’t cage her in. I simply let my hand brush her waist under the water, featherlight, a question not a demand. She didn’t pull away. Just turned the other way. I leaned in, my lips brushing her shoulder first. Testing. Her skin was wet, cool, tasting faintly of chlorine and salt. She shivered in response. I kissed higher. Her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, the edge of her jaw. Her breath caught. Expectantly. Finally, I claimed her mouth. Giving her what I knew she craved. Her lips parted for me instantly, as though her body had been waiting for this all along. The kiss was slow at first, coaxing, teasing. Then deeper, hungrier, until I felt her melt against me. Her body obeyed my touch, pressing closer, molding to mine. Every soft sigh from her lips vibrated through me, unraveling the steel chains of restraint I’d wrapped around myself. I broke away just enough to whisper against her mouth. “Savannah… talk to me. Whatever it is.” Her nails grazed my chest underwater, a delicate scrape that made my breath hitch. She rested her forehead against mine, her breathing ragged and uneven. For a long moment, I thought she wouldn’t answer. That she’d deflect again. That she’d vanish into silence, leaving me hanging. But then she spoke. Just one quiet, shattered, line. “The baby isn’t Dean’s.” The world stopped. The water no longer rippled. The air no longer moved. Even my heart seemed to forget how to beat. Her eyes lifted to mine, wide, brimming with a storm she’d been trying to hold back all night. And in that single moment, I realized everything I thought I knew about what Chloe had just announced, about what was unraveling around us earlier, was a lie.