Page 66 of The Breath Before Forever

Roman had turned into stone across the pool. “No, I can’t say that I do, but I’m a dude without a uterus. The only thing I think about when babies come to my mind is stabbing myself in the eye.”

“Nice, Rome.”

Another man in her life who didn’t sugarcoat shit. It really was no big shocker why Vera gravitated toward a husband like the one she now had when someone took a good look at the rest of the men she loved in one way or another.

Her brother grunted something unintelligible under his breath. It might have been an apology, or something else, but Vera wasn’t looking for that sort of sympathy.

He waved a hand while his other stroked his chin and down his jaw. “My point was—okay—that no, I can’t imagine how you feel, and it sucks you gotta feel that way at all right now.”

Raking her fingers through her hair—left loose and cut into an angular bob yet again—as she leaned back on the lawn chair, she continued using her fingertips to massage her scalp, across her cheekbones, and then at her temples. She wished it would help with the way even her face felt exhausted.

As if that was a real thing.

Except it seemed to be.

For her. Every part of her was tired. Of everything. Even moving and being. Something else about depression that nobody talked about—it wasn’t just being sad. There was so much more to the empty loneliness, a constantly growing hole, someone felt even when standing in a room full of people they loved. Or how getting out of bed every day was a chore, and only to be done when needed.

Cleaning?

What the fuck was that?

So had been Vera’s life in a nutshell for the past months that she’d been staying with her parents in New York. Day after day. Night after night. The same thing, it never changed. Yes, she was absolutely sad, but it was so much more than that, too.

No wonder her ma noticed. Claire probably knew she also couldn’t fix it, but making others around Vera aware of her situation at least offered her kindness, love, and support. For that, she was grateful.

Eventually, Roman decided to restart the conversation when he popped his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “So, I have a question. If you don’t mind.”

“Since when did my little brother ever care if I minded about something?”

His chest heaved with a gusty breath. “Dad told me after he came home from Russia that you seemed less prone to bullshit. I kind of took it as a fair warning.”

Huh.

“What was your question?” Vera asked.

All the arrogance that made up her brother’s personality had bled away the longer they sat together outside. He actually looked more like his twenty-one years sitting across from her—young and foolish about it. She missed being like that.

Carefree.

“So how come I know about the pregnancy thing,” Roman asked, “but Ma doesn’t? I mean, it’s Ma, Vera. I don’t particularly like to be mothered, but we both know she’s good at what she does. Maybe you need it, huh? Why not tell her? At least, she’s someone to talk to. Me, I just—fuck,” he swore, gesturing at his distressed acid wash jeans with the blown out knees, combat boots laced high on his feet, and the leather jacket he’d thrown over a plain black shirt. “Look at me. We both know I’m not here to do any feelings.”

“I don’t want to tell everybody,” she replied,” but I needed to tell somebody.”

Not even Hannah was there to listen.

Not right now.

“Maybe I thought my annoying little brother was the best person to share a secret with,” she added. “I wasn’t asking for you to cry with me. Just for you to keep your promise.”

Roman smiled, but it wasn’t very wide. “I did pinky promise to keep all your secrets once, didn’t I?”

She never let him forget it when given the chance. Like now.

“You were six, and really wanted that extra brownie.”

As a girl, she’d had no trouble at all manipulating her little brother. Frankly, her kid brother had made it easy.

He all out grinned at the mention of his favorite treat. Some things never changed. “Still do—I’d kill for one of Ma’s brownies right now.”