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“Thanks.” I step up onto the sidewalk while he claps Robert—who is still holding the door—on his shoulder. “Take Elora’s and my bags to my place, but tell Clifford to leave them in my room and that we will sort through them when we get home.”
“Of course, sir.” Robert dips his chin before slamming the door shut and walking around to the driver’s side.
“Who’s Clifford?” I ask quietly, and Roman looks down at me.
“My house manager.” I nod like I have a clue what that means.
I don’t.
Just like I didn’t know what he really meant when he said we were going to the airport and catching a flight was that we were actually getting on a private plane where the pilots knew him by name.
His eyes roam over my face. “Ready?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“I hate being back here.” He glances at the building we’re standing in front of, and my stomach hurts for him.
“I’m sorry.” I slide my hand into his. I want to tell him it will be okay, but I have no idea what we will be walking into. Having heard his mom say she was sorry when he spoke with her on the phone, I hope this reunion with his family goes all right. I hope enough time has passed to allow everyone to heal a little and find some perspective, but you just never know how things will go. Especially when emotions are running so high.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lean into him as we head for the sliding doors of the hospital.
As soon as we step inside, the coldness and smell are so hauntingly familiar that my stomach churns, and my feet itch to take me right back outside. I haven’t been in a hospital since my mom passed, and I forgot the heaviness that fills the air, like the weight of everyone’s worries is trapped within the walls with no way to escape.
We don’t stop at the front desk. Instead, we head for the elevator and up to the floor his grandmother is on while they evaluate if she needs surgery—something that has been debated all day. A debate Roman wanted no part of, not after the situation with Val, and I don’t blame him. There is only so much weight one person can carry on their shoulders, and I know he’s still lugging around the weight of choosing to take Val off life support.
When we get off the elevator and start down a long hall with private rooms on each side, a group of three women standing outside of one stop talking and look in our direction. Instantly, I know the beautiful older woman in the group is Roman’s mother since she shares her unusual eye color with her son. And I’d bet money that the two younger women are Roman’s sisters. They look exactly like the woman they’re standing with, from their blond hair to their tall, slim figures.
“Roman,” his mom whispers right before she sobs, covering her mouth.
Untangling my fingers from his so that he can go to her, I watch them embrace, feeling my throat get tight. I look at the two women, watching them with tears in their eyes, and my body relaxes when they close in on Roman, whose big body accepts all their weight with ease as they hug him too.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I lean back against the wall out of the way of the nurses and staff while the four of them reunite. When Roman looks my way and holds out his hand, all eyes turn my way, and my knees weaken.
“Elora, this is my mom, Francesca, and my sisters, Sofia and Lucia,” he introduces me, wrapping his arm around my waist, his touch doing nothing to lessen my nerves.
“Elora.” His mom eyes me warily, and I try my best to smile as my insides crumple under her scrutiny. Even after likely spending the last couple of days in the hospital, she and her daughters look like they could walk into that hotel back in California and fit right in, while I feel out of place and underdressed in a pair of black linen shorts and a plain tee.
“It’s nice to meet you all. I wish it were under better circumstances.” I focus on his mom, meeting her gaze. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you.” She looks down at Roman’s fingers digging into my hip and presses her lips together. “And how do you two know each other?”
“She was with him in Vegas, and he refused to leave her behind,” a man’s voice cuts through the air, and Roman’s muscles go taut. “I’m guessing he picked her up there.”
Turning, I watch a man about a foot shorter than Roman with none of his features walk toward us, with a very smug-looking Jimmy at his side. The man’s eyes on me put the way Roman’s mom scrutinized me to shame, and I have never felt so inadequate in my entire life. I might as well be old gum that accidentally got stuck to the bottom of his shoe with the way he inspects me with disgust.
“Isn’t that right?”
What he is implying registers, and heat spreads up my neck to my cheeks.
“You—”
“We should go see your grandmother,” I cut Roman off, turning toward him and resting my hands on his chest, and his eyes drop to mine. “Please,” I mouth, and his jaw flexes while his fingers fist in the material of my shirt at my side. I’ve never once been scared of him, not even earlier today when he made bodily threats toward Jimmy. But seeing the blatant rage in his eyes right now, a shiver spreads across my scalp and down my spine.
“We’ll talk later,” he bites out, turning us away from the man who must be his father and the women who are all watching with unease.
When he ushers me into the room a few feet away, I realize my hands are shaking. “Is that your dad?”
