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The noise made me and my dad jump.
Dad whirled around. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“Sophia? Sophia!” Rome shouted. “Please give me a chance. I need to talk to you!”
I couldn’t see him, but I could hear the urgency in his voice. And the pain.
Tears sheened my eyes. I wanted to see him. And I also didn’t. It hurt just to hear that much of his voice. Could I really be strong enough to listen to whatever line he was going to give me and still walk away?
Dad turned back to Rome. “Give us a second.”
And then he slammed the door closed in Roman Grier’s face.
God, I loved my dad.
“Sophia, I know you’re hurting, but I really think you should listen to what he has to say. At the very least, you need closure. But I have no doubt that that man out there loves you. And we’ve already seen how much he’s willing to do for you. I think you should listen to what he has to say.”
“Really? The way you were talking to him, I figured you were going to tell me to let him have it and leave.”
My dad grinned. “Nah. No need to make this easy for him. Kinda fun to make a movie star cower a bit. I can keep going if you want.” He raised his eyebrows at me, his eyes twinkling. He was loving this.
“No, I think you’ve done a pretty good job already.” I sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Do me a favor and take him to the backyard. I don’t know how long we can have him on our front step without the neighbors noticing. It’s not really an everyday occurrence, you know?”
I smiled wryly. When did my life turn so surreal? “Sure thing, Dad.”
“Good.” Dad patted my shoulder as he walked away from the door. “And don’t forget to make him work for it. You deserve the very best, and if that fool out there doesn’t see that’s true, then he’s not worthy of you.”
“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.” His words echoed down the hallway as he escaped to his study.
I took a deep breath, braced myself, and opened the door.
Rome was still there, his hands deep in the front pocket of his jeans. His head snapped up, and he gave me a sad smile.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
But I couldn’t show him that. From the start of this relationship, we had been on uneven ground—with him holding all the power. Either manipulating me behind the scenes or due to my own starstruck attitude. That all ended today.
Still, I couldn’t see him and not feel sadness and ache that he looked exactly how I felt. My eyes went past him to the old-school, rust-crusted pickup parked at the curb. I had a vague memory of seeing it in Rome’s garage in Malibu. Never thought he drove it. Actually, I’d assumed it was the gardener’s pickup.
Rome kinda matched his pickup today in his jeans, a faded t-shirt, and a ratty baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His ubiquitous sunglasses were clutched in his right hand.
He was underdressed, for a change, and he still looked ridiculously hot.
Life just wasn’t fair.
“Why are you driving that hunk of rust?”
Rome turned and looked at his old pickup before facing me again. “It reminds me of who I really am and where I came from. I was hoping it’d help me remember to not be such a Hollywood douche.”
I…didn’t know what to do with that. Feeling uncomfortable in the face of his surprising sincerity, I shifted my weight, still holding the door open. “Oh.”
“You look gorgeous,” Rome sighed.
He was lying. I was wearing a baggy pair of yoga pants, a worn concert shirt from college, with my hair pulled up in a funky bun. I looked horrible.
