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I kind of am. It’s the only way I know how to talk to Roman, and I find myself wanting to talk. I just don’t know what to say.
At the next block, we turn left, and Roman’s hand knocks against mine. Startled, I look at him, but he stares at the sidewalk, lost in thought.
At the Chinese restaurant, we place our order and sip on cups of green tea as we wait.
Roman adds sugar to his and grimaces. “Your tea is better.”
That pulls a laugh from me. “It’s a completely different type of tea.”
“Are you saying not all weeds are the same?” he teases. When I mock-scowl at him, he leans forward. “So, tell me all the ways that earl grey and green tea are different, oh god of tea.”
“Just remember you asked for this,” I warn before launching into the growing, harvesting, and drying process of tea leaves.
The topic carries us through the server dropping off our to-go order and all the way back to my apartment. Roman carries the bag of food, leaving me free to gesture as I talk. I expected him to zone out within five minutes, but he’s actually interested, asking pointed questions that keep the topic rolling.
He’s better at this socializing thing than I am.
As he steps inside, and we kick off our shoes, he glances around the small, box-filled space. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m being evicted at the end of the month.” I move a box aside to make room for our food.
He frowns as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Did you miss your rent payment?”
I shake my head. “I leased the place under my family name. Mother canceled the contract.”
Not looking at me, he pulls the food containers from the bag. “She’s really determined to force you to fall in line, isn’t she?”
Pulling two plates from the cabinet I haven’t packed yet, I set them on the table. “She’s going to be disappointed.”
“You’re not moving back home, then?” Though he sounds casual, tension runs through his shoulders.
“No,” I say slowly.
His head stays down. “And her hunt for your perfect spouse?”
“Don’t worry, you’re off the hook for that.” I study the top of his head. “I won’t be auctioning myself off.”
He forces a laugh. “That’s good, because I really didn’t want to pay ten-thousand a month for a kid. There are far better ways to spend that kind of money.”
“Oh?” I pop open the container of thin pancakes and take half before he can steal them all. “What will you do with all that spare cash now?”
Without looking up, he takes the remaining pancakes. “Investment it in something meaningful.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “What’s more meaningful than kids?”
“Dreams.” His eyes lift to meet mine. “A tea shop.”
The blood drains from my face, and I grip the table for support. “You’re the new owner?”
“Investor,” he corrects. “I don’t know anything about tea. That’s all on you.”
Slowly, I sink into one of the chairs. “Why did you do that?”
Roman scrubs a hand through his hair, mussing the auburn locks. “I’m apparently really bad at this, so I’m just going to say it.” Striding forward, he kneels in front of me and takes my limp hands. “Warren Heardst, I’m in love with you.”
“Bullshit,” I whisper, too shocked for my brain to come up with anything else.
Roman’s eyes narrow. “Not only am I in love with you, but I think you feel the same.”
