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“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. He’s made everything so much more bearable.”
“He’s the best. I hate that he thought that.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I know we made him feel like it was all his fault, but we know it wasn’t. He was right. Val would have hated being stuck here. He would have wanted us to let him go.”
“I get it. I understand accepting you’re going to lose someone is hard, even if you know that loss is inevitable.”
“Sofia.”
Knowing that voice, even if I’ve only heard it once, my insides seize. Turning to look over her shoulder, she then slumps forward after she turns back to me, whispering, “Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”
“Hopefully.” I watch her get up but don’t turn to look over my own shoulder at her father. Early on in life, I learned that people only have power if you give it to them, and I refuse to give any power to Roman’s dad—or stepdad, whatever.
Alone once more, I focus back on the TV while my mind wanders to Roman and how he’s doing. Part of me wants to go to him, just to see for myself that he’s all right, but I know my presence isn’t wanted right now, even if he did explain to his family that I’m not, in fact, some call girl he picked up in Vegas.
When my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the lunch we had on the plane—which I barely touched with Jimmy staring at me—I take my purse and go to the front desk to ask if there’s a vending machine or somewhere I can get food nearby. Luckily, the girl working there tells me there’s a cafeteria on the second floor, so I start to make my way to the elevator but stop when I spot Roman and his family getting off.
Backing out of the hall, I go back to where I was sitting in the lobby, wanting to give them whatever time they need. Before long, Roman joins me, his body falling into the chair next to mine, and I look over at him.
“Did they come to get her?”
“Yeah, they’re prepping her for surgery. The doctors said it’s going to be a few hours, so I figured I’ll take you home, then come back when she should be getting out, so you don’t have to wait here.”
“Are you sure? I’m okay if you want to stay.”
“No, I want you to be comfortable.” He reaches for my right hand and smooths his fingers over mine, seeming to pause on the one next to my pinky. “I put in an order for a car since Robert is driving my mom and sisters back to their house.”
“All right.” My eyes roam over his face, and I ask softly, “Are you okay?”
He shakes his head, and I lean my head on his shoulder.
“It will be okay.” I hope it’s not a lie. I hope his grandmother is all right and that the surgery goes off without a hitch.
When his phone that I have never heard ring starts to buzz, he pulls it out and checks the screen. “Our car is here.” Standing, he waits for me to get up, then wraps his arm around my waist as we make our way through the lobby and out the hospital door.
Walking to a black car with tinted windows, he opens the back door for me, and I slide into the cool interior. He doesn’t say a word to the driver as he gets in, so I assume he already gave him the address to his place.
As we roll down street after street, I’m able to make out a few landmarks, and even though there’s a lot of traffic, it doesn’t seem to take very long before the car stops in front of what I first believe is a department store… until I get out of the car and look up, and up, and up. The building is so tall I feel dizzy, even with my feet planted firmly on the ground.
“Come on.” Roman takes my hand and leads me toward a set of glass doors.
“Mr. King, glad to see you back.” A man in a suit with a cap on his head opens the door, and Roman dips his chin in greeting before escorting me inside.
As we stop at the front desk, a pretty blonde comes out of the back room and smiles at Roman. “Mr. King.”
“Jess, this is Elora Barlow.” He smooths his hand up my back. “She’s going to be staying with me for the foreseeable future. Can you please get her set up in the system?”
“Of course, Mr. King.” Jess smiles at me. “Do you have an ID on you, Ms. Barlow?”
“Umm… yeah.” I drag my bag off my shoulder and dig out my wallet, handing over my driver’s license.
“You’re from Wyoming?”
“Yeah.”
“My family is back there.”
“Really?”
