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“You are,” I growl. “You’re so much better than him.”
“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, smiling softly. “But when I was in the thick of my addiction, I didn’t feel like I was. I felt like a lowlife. Like—like him. So, one day, I told Kon I was done. Anytime I felt the need to drink, I called him and he reminded me of all the reasons why I shouldn’t. Eventually, it got easier. And now,” he shrugs, “I don’t miss it. It’s just a part of who I used to be.”
I stare at him in awe. Other than Kon, he’d done that by himself. He got sober alone. He fought his addiction, one I didn’t know he even had, alone.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, and he looks at me, his brows bunched in confusion. “I wouldn’t have drank if I knew about this. I won’t anymore.” His mouth tucks up at the corner and he tucks my hair gently behind my ear.
“My sweet girl,” he murmurs softly. “It doesn’t bother me. I’ve been around Chase and his friends for years. They don’t stop drinking for me. I’m used to it.”
“But I don’t want to tempt you,” I tell him and he shakes his head.
“You won’t.”
“But—”
“Goldie,” he says firmly, and my mouth snaps shut. “If I start to have any issues with it, I’ll let you know, okay? But I want you to have fun. I want you to live your life, baby. Don’t hold yourself back for me. If you don’t want to because it’s your choice, I’ll support it. But if you want to go to these stupid parties with Chase every other weekend, that’s fine too. Just…” He strokes my cheeks softly with his thumb, and I lean into his warm touch. “If you start to think you’re having any issues with it, please tell me. I’ll help you.”
My heart squeezes. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met. How did I ever get so lucky to have him?
“I will,” I whisper. “I promise.”
His shoulders relax, and he leans over, pressing a kiss to my lips. His tongue slides against them, and I open, eagerly letting him in. His hand slides to the back of my head, holding me where he wants me as he ravages my mouth with his.
I whimper, and he swallows the sound, his body moving closer to mine. Gripping my chair, he pulls me closer, forcing me between his spread legs. My arms wrap around his neck, holding him just as tightly back.
Somewhere in the house, the familiar sound of my ringtone on my phone goes off and I groan.
“Ignore it,” he breathes, and I shake my head.
“Chase is expecting a phone call from some realtor in Vermont about a farm. He gave her my number in case she couldn’t reach him.” Roman rolls his eyes, but nods and lets me slide off the stool.
Hurrying through the loft, I grab my phone from the bedside table and answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mrs. Anderson?”
My brows push together. “This is her granddaughter,” I say slowly. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, fine,” the man says. “We have your number on file. We’re closing our facility, so you’ll need to come pick up your stuff. If you leave it, then it’ll go to auction and you’ll likely never see it again.”
“What stuff? Who is this?” I run my hand over my hair, glancing at the doorway when Roman enters. He gives me a questioning look, but I wave him off.
“This is Legacy Storage Units,” the man tells me. “We’re closing in a month, so you’ll need to come get that stuff soon.”
“Right,” I breathe. “Of course. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem.”
Without another word, he hangs up and I stare down at my phone. “Who was it?” Roman asks, stepping toward me. I glance at him, my lips tipping up in a smile.
Gran’s stuff is a few hours away. Maybe this is exactly what we need right now. A fresh start. Something new. A change of scenery.
Turning toward him, he rests his palms on my hips and tugs me closer. I move my hands to his chest as I smile up at him. “How do you feel about a road trip?”
* * *
Three days later, we’re standing in the center of Gran’s storage unit. It’s mostly empty, except for a stack of boxes in one corner and some old furniture scattered around the hot, dirty room.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, racing toward a box in the back. Sitting on top is my Raggedy Ann doll from when I was a kid. “I thought I lost her!”
