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)
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I lean back against the wall out of the way of the nurses and staff while the four of them reunite. When Roman looks my way and holds out his hand, all eyes turn my way, and my knees weaken.
“Elora, this is my mom, Francesca, and my sisters, Sofia and Lucia,” he introduces me, wrapping his arm around my waist, his touch doing nothing to lessen my nerves.
“Elora.” His mom eyes me warily, and I try my best to smile as my insides crumple under her scrutiny. Even after likely spending the last couple of days in the hospital, she and her daughters look like they could walk into that hotel back in California and fit right in, while I feel out of place and underdressed in a pair of black linen shorts and a plain tee.
“It’s nice to meet you all. I wish it were under better circumstances.” I focus on his mom, meeting her gaze. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you.” She looks down at Roman’s fingers digging into my hip and presses her lips together. “And how do you two know each other?”
“She was with him in Vegas, and he refused to leave her behind,” a man’s voice cuts through the air, and Roman’s muscles go taut. “I’m guessing he picked her up there.”
Turning, I watch a man about a foot shorter than Roman with none of his features walk toward us, with a very smug-looking Jimmy at his side. The man’s eyes on me put the way Roman’s mom scrutinized me to shame, and I have never felt so inadequate in my entire life. I might as well be old gum that accidentally got stuck to the bottom of his shoe with the way he inspects me with disgust.
“Isn’t that right?”
What he is implying registers, and heat spreads up my neck to my cheeks.
“You—”
“We should go see your grandmother,” I cut Roman off, turning toward him and resting my hands on his chest, and his eyes drop to mine. “Please,” I mouth, and his jaw flexes while his fingers fist in the material of my shirt at my side. I’ve never once been scared of him, not even earlier today when he made bodily threats toward Jimmy. But seeing the blatant rage in his eyes right now, a shiver spreads across my scalp and down my spine.
“We’ll talk later,” he bites out, turning us away from the man who must be his father and the women who are all watching with unease.
When he ushers me into the room a few feet away, I realize my hands are shaking. “Is that your dad?”
“Not biologically, but he’s the man my mom has been married to since she was pregnant with me,” he says quietly, but even so, there is no missing the anger still evident in his tone.
I open my mouth to ask him about a dozen questions, but a soft voice weakly calling Roman’s name catches our attention, and we both look across the room at the bed. When my eyes land on an older woman with golden hair cut into a bob that looks perfectly styled and eyes just like Roman’s and his mom’s, I let out a breath. Now is not the time for questions, even though I’m starting to see that whatever I assumed Roman’s life was like, I had no idea. With my heart still thundering, I watch him walk across the room and drop to his knees next to the bed that is low to the ground.
“If you wanted me home, you just had to ask. No need to be so dramatic and put yourself in the hospital,” he tells her, wrapping both his hands around one of hers.
She gives him a lopsided smile before looking over at me and pointing with one finger.
“Diana, I’d like you to meet Elora,” he says, watching me as I walk toward them. Then he leans in and whispers something in her ear, something I can’t hear, and her gaze, still locked on me, softens.
When I reach his side, he looks up at me and smiles. “Elora, this is my grandmother, Diana Francesca King. The queen of New York real estate.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say softly, joining Roman on my knees at the side of her bed. She doesn’t speak but attempts to lift her shaking hand toward me, and I rub her leg.
“Home.” The single word filled with fear is spoken almost inaudibly, but I still grasp it.
“Soon. The doctors want to make sure you’re okay first.” He kisses her fingers, and tears fill my eyes when her expression crumples. It’s obvious she’s scared and worried, and the scene is so familiar it’s difficult not to recall being in this exact position with my mom after her surgeries or treatments that left her stuck in bed.