“Oh dear.”
He points at me with the pen. “You’re not a parent so I won’t be taking that attitude from you.”
His teasing affront makes me smile and gives me confidence I can be honest with him. “Listen, it sounds like she wants to go and maybe your feelings on the matter shouldn’t come into it. As long as you can guarantee her safety while there.”
He eyes me with that Roman brow of sex. “In other words, it’s not about you, Rossi.”
“I never said that, but yeah? Of course, you’re dealing with a minor and you want her to be safe and not in the middle of any toxic situation. But ask yourself if your resistance to this is because you want what’s best for Lena or what’s best for you.”
“Jeez, one round of mopping the bunk room and you’re the grand old oracle of wisdom?” His half grin, an expression I’m starting to adore, confirms he’s joking.
“I should open up an advice booth! Like Lucy in Peanuts.”
“Charge more than five cents though. Inflation.”
I smile. “No charge for you. I expect quid pro quo on all you’re going to teach me once I’m back on active duty.”
He stands and approaches, stopping just a few inches short.
Yet too. Damn. Far.
“I’m working on that, by the way. No promises, but I’ll be talking to Venti today about getting you reinstated sooner.”
“I’ll keep thinking it’ll happen. The power of positive thinking.” Can I positively think his lips onto mine? My entire body is awash with the masculine scent and heat of him.
He’s close and so very present, and while his mouth is moving, I’ve no idea what’s coming out of it. It takes me a second to realize he’s said something about Danny.
“What’s that?”
“If Acosta hassles you again, let me know.”
“I’m sure he won’t. I think he got carried away with the crew present.”
“Easy enough where you’re concerned.” His eyes drink me in. “And you’re right, dating a firefighter is tricky, not just because of the workplace dynamics but it’s tough on families. Your dad went through that with your mom, so I see where he’s coming from. Why he’s so protective. I’d be the same with my kid or with any woman I was involved with.”
He’s staring at me now, so serious, so Roman. Is he trying to tell me it’s a good thing we’re not exploring this attraction because one of us getting hurt or killed could result in unbearable pain for the other? Or is he saying that he feels protective of me?
“Best not to get involved at all,” I mutter, though the words sound weird and a million kinds of wrong.
“Listen, I know you probably have regrets about that kiss but—”
“I don’t, Roman. Not a single one.”
He huffs out a breath. “Good. I’d hate to be one of yours.”
There’s a double meaning there. Regret for what we’ve done and regret for what we can’t. It’s provocative and I want to take him up on the promise imbued in those words.
His chest heaves. I take a step. It’s perilous, but I seem to be living on the edge lately. My fingers twitch with need, my skin tingles with want.
Most troublesome of all, my heart starts an erratic beat. It’s not merely excitement or a sensual pull, though all of that is present. It’s a yearning for connection with this man who would hate to be one of my regrets.
The siren goes off, announcing, “Engine 6, Ambulance 59 …” and the code for the call, one I can’t go on.
Roman collects himself, and I realize it’s probably-maybe-possibly-definitely for the best. “Okay, Sullivan, back to work.”
Twenty-two
Roman
I put my head around the door of Lena’s bedroom. She’s on her computer, but quickly shuts the screen down when she sees me.
“Hey, you still mad at me?”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection there. “Yes.”
I take that as an invitation to come in. Really, I need to take a shower and get some Z’s after a killer shift, but this has to happen first. Abby’s advice resonated with me.
“I didn’t have time to clean up.”
“It’s okay. I kind of—” She stops and squares her shoulders. “What did you want to talk about?”
She sounds so grown up, as if the events of the last few days have added weeks or maybe months to her age. I hate to see those moments escape me.
“Let’s talk about your mom’s wedding. Other than being a part of it, how do you feel about it?”
“How do I feel? I don’t wish you two were getting back together, if that’s what you mean.”
“Not really, but good to know. We’ve never really talked about your mom and … Mark.” Mark Levinson, my former co-worker at Ladder 43. I practically choke on his name. “I guess I haven’t wanted to talk about them but I’ve not really considered how that makes you feel.”
I take a seat on the bed and wait for her to sort through her emotions.
“I don’t like what she did. The affair. It wasn’t fair to you … or to me. But Mom’s never been the kind of person who thinks about how stuff affects anyone else but herself. So I guess it didn’t surprise me.”
My girl has always been so intuitive where her mom is concerned. I hate that she has to be.
“And now they’re getting married,” I say. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in going. Getting dressed up.” I’m trying to frame this differently.
It takes her a few seconds but she considers this. “I’m not. But Mom said she has a dress for me. I don’t really want to wear that but …”
“But …”
“But if Mom wants me to be part of the wedding, to be a bridesmaid, it must mean that she … wants to see me, right?”
The heartbreak I hear in my daughter’s voice knifes me in two. Lena was—is—pretty hurt about Tori’s behavior during the divorce. Her mother never fought for her so Lena took that the way it was intended: her mom didn’t love her enough. Now it sounds like she’s prepared to wear a dress that would make her feel unlike herself if it means pleasing the woman who’s held her at arm’s length since she was born. My little girl would stuff her feelings down deep to show her mother she could be the daughter she wanted.
I’m so fucking angry but I have to show a different side of myself to Lena. I have to make excuses for my ex-wife’s behavior so my daughter will be less hurt. “Of course she wants to see you. Wedding or no wedding, she wants to see you. But she’s been planning it for a while so it keeps her busy.” Even to the point of canceling Lena’s last visit to New York.
“I thought this would be a good way to show her I’m making the effort.”
You don’t have to show her a damn thing.
But I don’t say that. I want my daughter to have a good relationship with her mother, so if this is the way it has to happen, then she gets to be in the wedding party.
“You still want to go, even though you have to wear some stupid dress?”