LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(73)
He rolled over the rest of the way and opened the covers in invitation. He was wearing only his underwear, and I could see the irresistible planes of his chest and abdomen leading down to his happy trail. “You getting in?” he asked in a sleep-roughened voice.
I stripped out of my clothes and left them in a pile on the floor before sliding in beside him. His skin was warm and inviting, and he reached out immediately to draw my cooler body against his, wrapping arms and legs around me to warm me up.
“Sleep,” he murmured into my ear. “Everything’ll be okay. Promise.”
I wasn’t even sure he was awake enough to know what he was saying, but just knowing he didn’t want me to worry about anything made me feel cared for. Being enveloped by his bigger body made me feel protected and safe. It had only been a few nights, but I was already falling for him like a desperate fool. But I refused to expect or demand more from him than he could give. Roman already had way too many people in his life who seemed to do that.
I wouldn’t be another person who put his reputation in jeopardy. Except that I already had. What would happen if my mom contacted the tabloids? What if she sold his location, or god forbid something even more personal like a photo or news of our relationship, to the paparazzi?
Could he ever forgive me?
I thought back to the conversation he’d had about his career. I remembered the stories about him in the news when he’d accidentally smashed a real antique guitar on set rather than the replica or when he’d been featured in a Rolex magazine spread but then was photographed wearing a Breitling at one of his premieres, but I’d never thought about how that might have affected his career or whether or not certain people in the industry would want to work with him.
He’d come to Vermont to lie low, to avoid any negative press. His agent and PR people had warned him that he was close to an unofficial “three strikes” rule. They worried that one more bad story in the news would solidify his reputation as being too much of a risk to work with in Hollywood.
The idea we could continue to stay here—that he could continue to stay here—without the paparazzi finding out was becoming less and less likely. With my mother here, it was downright impossible.
And even if we were able to finish out his time in Vermont without making waves, what were the chances we could move forward and build a life together without me or my mom somehow fucking it up? Zero. Nada. Zilch.
I’d brought a horse to his front door for god’s sake. I was the epitome of fucking it up.
As I lay there pressed against him, my brain whirring at top speed, I realized his breathing had changed. Roman’s fingers danced lightly along my shoulder and down my arm. I wondered if we’d just been too naive to think we could truly try to have a real relationship. If it had all just been wishful thinking.
“Your brain is literally putting off heat,” Roman murmured into my hair. “Your hamster wheel must be spinning like crazy.”
“Sorry,” I said, letting out a breath. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
He pushed up onto his elbow. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you? I assume it’s your mom.”
I curled tighter around myself, my back still to him. “Anything I say would be beating a dead horse,” I admitted. “But I can’t let it go.”
“Tell me. What part specifically has you in knots?”
When I didn’t answer, he tugged gently on my shoulder, pulling me onto my back beside him so he could see my face. He kept a hand on my chest, the weight of it a comfort against my thundering heart.
“She’s going to sell you out for a quick buck,” I told him. “I just know it. You don’t realize that it’s not an issue of if, it’s more a matter of when. And from everything you told me, you can’t afford for that to happen right now. So I’m worried.”
Roman smoothed his hand up my chest to run the back of his index finger down the side of my face. “Then let’s talk about it. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was dismissing your concerns earlier, but I also didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t have your own mother come stay with you.”
I sighed, frustrated I couldn’t make him understand. I appreciated how willing he was to give her a chance, and it meant more than I could say that he was doing it for me. But he didn’t know her like I did. He didn’t know that I’d already given her more chances than I had fingers to count them.
“I get that,” I told him. “I do. But it’s… she’s not like regular moms. She’s a con artist. And she’ll smile and profess her love to you at the same time she slides the knife in.”
I stopped with a jerk, my own words and tone surprising me. Roman’s face showed a similar response.
I quickly began backpedaling. “I mean…”
Roman grasped my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. “You’re not alone in this anymore, Scotty. You have me now. We’re together. A team. And I’m not about to let her or anyone else hurt either one of us. Do you understand?”
My stupid eyes filled. I nodded, too afraid to speak in case my voice broke. This was all too good to be true. No one had ever made me feel like that before, especially not someone so kind and funny.
“Why don’t I arrange for an apartment in Queens and get her on a bus back there tomorrow?” Roman’s voice was quiet but determined. “She probably shouldn’t be out of state right now anyway, right?”