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“We have got to stop meeting like this,” I tell Roman.
Just like the other day, the last thing I should be doing is walking into the room and talking to him. I plow on regardless. He arches an eyebrow as I take a seat beside him at the bar, reaching for a glass. When I gesture for him to pour me a drink, he simply smirks before obliging.
I subtly take in his appearance. He’s changed his clothes, swapping the bloody ones for a clean white T-shirt and pants. His hair is still a little damp so I’m guessing he took a shower. He doesn’t look like a man who murdered an old man tonight and ruined an entire family. It’s a little eerie.
“Do you have something to say, trouble?” Roman questions without looking at me.
I wrench my eyes away from him, facing forward. “Nope. I’m here to sit and drink and wallow about the mess that is my life,” I say, taking a large gulp of the drink.
“I’m sorry you had to witness what happened tonight,” Roman says tightly, guessing inaccurately that his actions are the cause of my discomfort.
I shake my head. “Just another day in the De Luca household. I already told you, it’s not that easy to offend my delicate female sensibilities.”
He lets out a chuff of air. “So why the wallowing?”
I pause, wondering if I should say this to him. Then I realize with a jolt that he’s the only person I can say this to. It’s actually funny. Of all the people in my life, the one person I feel like I can talk to about this is Roman De Luca.
“Today’s the anniversary of the day my mom left,” I confess.
Roman stills.
“I thought you knew, actually. Then I realized you probably didn’t when you said you’d schedule the party for today.”
His lips turn down into a frown. “I’m not heartless,lupacchiotta, I didn’t fucking know.”
“It’s fine even if you did,” I assure him with a smile. “I mean, it’s ridiculous that I’m even sad about it. The woman left over a decade ago. I shouldn’t even care.”
“Of course you care. She’s your mother,” Roman states firmly.
I look into his eyes and he’s actually being sincere. It unnerves me. I raise my glass in his direction
“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little Elena, with her mommy issues,” I shake my head. “Pathetic. I mean, surely there’s something wrong with me. Tony lost his mom, too, and he’s fine. He walks around without a care in the world.”
“Your brother fights his battles in secret. And I wasn’t thinking that, Elena.”
I smile. “You called me Elena. I get worried when you do that. It makes me feel like you’re planning something nefarious.”
“Promise not to kill you,” he says with a smile.
I scoff. “You’d never kill me. But you could do so much worse.”
His brows furrow in confusion, and I want to reach over and smooth out his forehead. I’m having one of those moments again. Moments that seem to stretch on forever with a person I should hate but I really don’t.
I get to my feet, dropping the glass on the countertop. “I should probably get going.”
Roman’s eyes narrow. “It’s ten p.m. Just stay over.”
“I was going to stay with Rosa, but she asked to be left alone. Your mom’s with her anyway. I’ll just head home instead.”
“Where’s Carlos?”
“He drove my dad home earlier. It’s fine. I can catch a cab,” I tell him.
“No, you’re not doing that.”
The words feel like a command. Which is annoying. I open my mouth to argue but he gets to his feet.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
