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6
New York City, 1992
“No!” I yelled in his face and tightened the sheet harder around me.
“Why not?” He followed me from the kitchen to the living room like a hound.
“No, Roman, It’s crazy.”
He leaned over and traced the curve of my cheeks with his lips. My sweet brown-eyed Roman, always finding his way around my heart. This time I had to keep strong.
“Amore, I want us living together. I don’t like thinking about you alone on the subway all the way to the Bronx every day. As long as you refuse to let me buy you a car, you have to move in with me.”
“Roman, the Bronx is the only part of this city where I can afford rent.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“No!”
Six months. Six full months since he convinced me to give him a chance, and the man was already my whole life. I loved him like a madwoman. Of course, I could never tell him that; it would go straight to his head and the asshole would use it against me. He had enough ammunition as it was.
I don’t know what it was about Roman that made me smitten so fast. He was just a man – and I hated most of them – but there was something about him. I had no chance in front of his chocolate eyes. After my ex and I broke up, I was sure that I’d end up with an asshole who would only care about having food on his table and getting his dick sucked, but somehow, I ended up here, with this amazing man, who wanted to hear about my hopes and dreams and how my day went, who massaged my feet after I had to work ten hours straight and who made sure he made me come a couple of times before taking care of himself. What was I doing, fighting with him?
“Salva, baby, just come and see the place with me. It’s a lovely one-bedroom in Morningside Heights. I promise you it’s nothing over the top and I can afford the rent all on my own.” Obviously. The man paid fifty dollars for his haircut every two weeks. My boyfriend was well-off and it made me uncomfortable. “It’s five minutes away from your work and it has a nice view.”
“Roman, why would you even go apartment hunting? It’s too soon and you know I could never make rent for Morning Heights.”
“Because I knew you’d never agree to move into my parents' house.”
Fuck, no! I didn’t even know them.
“Maybe next year,” I said, trying to end this discussion.
“Next year?!” He looked like I just told him his mama was a whore. “Salvatrice, I want to move in with you now. Why are you holding out on me, amore?”
Because I’m scared you’re just a dream and I might wake up someday and be totally and heartbrokenly fucked.
“I’m not, baby. It’s not about us, Roman. Look, I applied for a couple of jobs that pay better. If they accept me, we will make it happen later, ok?”
“Salva, for the last time, I can afford…”
“Jesus Christ, Roman, if I wanted a sugar daddy I would have gone to Manhattan at night and shown some rich, old guy my tits.”
He frowned at me from across the couch and a fine line formed between his brows. In one move he had me lying flat on my back and he was above me like a lion.
“If you ever make another suggestion about you with another man, you’ll end up with a very red ass.”
“Mmm.” I gave him a peck on the lips. “I love when you’re all possessive.”
“I’m always possessive. I don’t say it all the time because it will drive you crazy, but I see every fucker that turns his head on the street to look at you. Give me some peace of mind and move in with me.”
“Roman…”
“Fine, we’ll split the fucking rent. I’ll do whatever it takes. Baby, I love you. Soon I will marry you. Don’t make me wait.”
And I was done. I was sure that if I looked down, I would see my heart beating through my chest. It was terrifying to think how much I loved him, but it was too late. I was his, I was all in. It was Roman or nothing.
“Fine, fine! I’ll go and see the apartment. We’ll share the rent, but you have to feed me for a couple of months until, I don’t know, I find something better.”
