Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(34)
“Said she was tired.”
“For Christ’s sake!” I shouted, causing Cass to jolt upright and hold up her cell.
Fiddling with the screen, she put it to her ear, winked at me, then slurred, “Molls, get your juicy English ass out! We’re getting trashed and need the fourth musketeer!” Cass smiled up at me, nodding her head smugly as though certain her drunken little call would work. I couldn’t hear what Molly was saying, but by the drop in Cass’s expression, I could tell she wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.
Ally made a mock strangling gesture behind Cass’s back and snatched the device from her hand. Cass tried to wrestle it back but was distracted by the sight of Jimmy-Don heading down the stairs and, screaming in excitement, ran over into his open arms, pretty much tackling him to the floor.
Ally was now speaking into Cass’s cell phone. “You sure you won’t come, darlin’? I don’t like that you’re alone in your room and everyone’s here having a good time.”
I held my breath, never taking my eyes from Ally’s, but when they dulled with disappointment, I chugged the rest of my beer, hearing Ally signing off, abruptly ending the call with a shake of her head.
“She says she’s just tired.” Reaching out, Ally laid her hand on my bare arm. “Molly’s extremely guarded, Rome. She don’t really let anyone in. She’s the most private person I know.”
Not true, she’d f*cking let me in—on Ally’s balcony, that night at the initiation. I was friggin’ different to her. I knew I was, but her never turning up or sticking around for me to see her was really starting to piss me off.
In a second, I made up my mind… Time to pay Miss Shakespeare a visit. No more hiding.
“I know that face,” Ally said warily, a flood of questions in her eyes.
Backing out of the doorway and smiling at her reproachful face, I waved. “Catch you later. I got somewhere to be.”
Slamming her hands onto her waist, Ally yelled, “Rome, I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea to go over there uninvited! She’s not one of your sluts!” Pretending not to hear the worry and censure in her tone, I kept going through the crowd but smiled when I heard her shout begrudgingly, “It’s the balcony to the left of mine, top floor! But don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
Stepping out of the backdoor of my frat house and running across the street, I found myself below Molly’s balcony, looking up at the stone columns, a dim light coming from her room, and I shook my head in complete disbelief.
Romeo below f*cking Juliet’s balcony…. Fuck. Me. Sideways.
Reaching down to my junk, I checked my balls were still there… You know, just in case they’d been revoked at such a pathetic and desperate act, but yeah—still intact and aching for the chick in that room just a stone’s throw away.
I reached down to the fancy landscaped lawn borders, scooped up some of the red gravel surrounding the plants and rolled the stones in my hands. I was about ready to throw them at her window when my cell vibrated in my pocket, my fingers parted and the gravel slipped through the gaps.
Moving to a shadowed, secluded spot, I slumped down to the warm grass and read the message.
Daddy: Look, son, I went too far with you the other day. Let’s talk about this calmly. I really need you to make this marriage with Shelly happen. The business needs it, the family needs it, and if you want to keep things good between us, you need it to happen too.
My head fell forward. Even when he was trying to be nice, he couldn’t help but issue a threat. I didn’t know who he got it from. My grandparents were the nicest folk on Earth. His brother, Ally’s daddy, a saint, but my daddy was ruined by money and greed, and meeting my momma—who was equally as money-hungry—turned him into a nightmare.
My stomach sank some as I thought of my paternal grandparents. I’d been real young when they moved to Florida, and they both passed away shortly after they left.
I remember my granddaddy taking me to pee-wee football for the very first time. He’d been so damn proud of me that day, proud that his grandson showed good promise. But he never got to see me play properly, and I wished he could’ve stuck around longer to see what I became. I remember it feeling so different being around my grandparents; even as a tiny kid I could tell that much. They always cared for me, and on my eighteenth birthday, I found out just how much. They’d left me a trust fund, a f*cking huge trust fund, one that my folks couldn’t touch. My daddy flipped when I told him a lawyer had turned up at my frat house with the details, and it was from that day that he knew he could no longer use money to control me, so he switched to blackmail and humiliation instead.
Fighting the urge to scream and pummel my fists into the wall, I stared up at the sky, deep in thought.
What was I doing? My folks were never going to let me out of this marriage shit, and part of me felt like just giving in for an easier life, but more of me wanted to resist it with every ounce of my being.
Rolling my neck, I stared back up at Molly’s balcony. If I kept going down this road with her, I knew there was the very real danger that I’d never be able to let her go. I wasn’t stupid. Christ, she’d already gotten into my head and I’d barely even touched her, barely even scratched the surface of who she really was. But I was addicted nonetheless, and I had to decide right now if she was worth it… worth disobeying my folks… worth facing months of hell… worth lowering my barriers.