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Chapter Thirty
Tara approached the table. ‘Is this seat taken?’
Roman studied her, taking in the defiant glint in her eyes. ‘It is, actually,’ he replied.
She sat down anyway. A leaping flame of anger scorched Roman’s insides. He flinched in pain.
‘Could you tell whoever it is whose seat I’ve stolen that I’ve been through a lot?’ Tara kept her tone light and playful. ‘I woke up in a cold sweat at 2 a.m., booked a flight which turned out to be three connecting flights, just to get here in time for one of my best friends’ wedding.’
‘There was no need to do all that. You had plenty of notice.’
She side-eyed him. ‘My date dumped me last minute.’
‘That’s not even remotely true.’
‘It’s kinda true!’ She rested a hand on his thigh. ‘Relax, OK? Accept this as the grand gesture that it is.’
Roman stared at her blankly. He tried to see the traces of the woman he once loved. For years they’d been so close. He knew her inside out. Now he had no idea what she was thinking.
‘This may very well have been a bad idea,’ she said. ‘Nevertheless, I’m persisting. I’ve come too far to back down now.’
‘You’re incredible,’ he said under his breath.
‘In a good way or—’
Roman wasn’t in the mood for playful banter. ‘When did you get here? Where are you staying? Did you fly in to Crown Point?’
‘Aw, sweetie! You’re worried about me.’
He pushed aside his place setting in annoyance. ‘I worry about you wandering alone in a place you’ve never been.’
‘That’s very patriarchal of you, but as you can see I’m fine. I flew in this afternoon and I’m staying at the Blue Moon Beach Resort not far from here.’
‘You could’ve called. I would have met you at the airport.’
‘Except you wouldn’t have answered my call. You blocked me, remember?’
‘I haven’t blocked you or anyone. I’m off the grid.’ As evidence, he pulled out the basic smart phone that he used while in Tobago, instead of the iPhone that served as a portal to his New York life. He hadn’t charged that one in weeks. The phone in his hand was a refurbished piece of junk that tied him to Samantha. That’s how he liked it.
‘Off the gridis just a clever way of saying you’ve buried your head in the sand. Everyone is looking for you.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘I’ll fill you in later.’
She was aware – as was Roman – of their dinner companions actively eavesdropping. The only difference was that he didn’t care. He was more concerned with what Samantha might be thinking. He didn’t dare look at her, but he could feel her laser-hot glare on him. His phone had stopped chiming with her messages; a bad sign.
Dinner was served. Roman managed to make it through the meal without choking. Afterwards, Naomi stood and exited the reception hall followed sagely by her bridesmaids. Roman watched as Samantha made her way out of the room, her head held high. Soon enough, Anthony got up and made his way toward their table. He grabbed one of the empty chairs and wedged it between Roman and Tara. He forced out a laugh. ‘Hey! Look who made it!’
Tara planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘It’s the man of the hour! How are you, buddy? Holding up OK?’
‘Great! Never better!’
‘You look a little pink around the ears. Have you been drinking?’
Anthony clasped his big hands together. ‘You only get married once. Am I right?’
‘In your case it’s twice, and with the same woman,’ Tara said. ‘But never mind that. Congratulations!’
