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On the dance floor, he pulled her close and whispered, ‘What about your heart line?’
‘What about it?’
His hand slid down her back. ‘How many hearts have you broken?’
‘None, by my count.’
‘I guess there’s still time.’
Samantha was convinced nothing short of a wrecking ball could shatter this man’s heart. ‘I’m not a heartbreaker, Roman.’
‘No, you’re a sweetheart.’
He pressed a kiss to her temple, a polite, friendly kiss. She didn’t like it.
An hour later, Roman drove her back to the resort and walked her to her door. They lingered there a while. Roman’s eyes looked black in the darkness, his features sharp. It was not yet midnight and Samantha did not want the night to end.
‘Would you like to come in … for water?’ she offered.
Water was the official beverage of the Friend Zone, which was somehow where she found herself.
‘No, thank you.’
Roman took a step back and leaned against one of the porch columns. He was studying her again, in that serious way.
Samantha took a step forward. ‘Do you hate the blog posts? I admit it’s not my finest work.’
‘Like I could hate anything you do.’
‘What is it, then? I know something’s wrong.’
‘I thought you were writing about travel and Tobago, Cotton Bay and the Nylon Pool.’
‘Well, I never actually made it to Cotton Bay.’
‘You know what I mean,’ he said. ‘It’s about you and your feelings and all the things you struggle with.’
‘You think it’s too sentimental? Too touchy feely?’
‘It’s raw and honest.’
‘It made you uncomfortable.’
Roman shook his head. ‘It made me see that your break-up bothers you way more than you let on.’
She couldn’t deny it. ‘But it’s for the best. If he had made the trip, we would have spent our time arguing or actively avoiding an argument – that was more our style. I have no regrets. And it’s not like I’m broken or anything. I’m fine.’
Had Timothy bothered to come, she would have been trapped in this bungalow with him, trying to decode his many moods. She and Roman would have never had a chance to get to know one another.
‘Maybe I’m the broken one,’ he said, almost to himself.
He was fine right up until the moment he read her blogs. All that whining about not having a date must have led him to think she was still hooked on Timothy.
‘Samantha.’
‘Yes?’
‘Would you like to be my date for a wedding I have to attend this Saturday?’
