---4---
The still cold room was slightly dark with light only seeping through cracks in the window blinds. Roman woke to find that Kate had stolen all the covers. He let out a small laugh, and unsuccessfully tried pulling some back while looking at his watch. Ten to eight. He turned over, wrapped his arm around her and rested his head in her hair. Vanilla. She always smelled like vanilla, he thought. This began a debate in his own head as to whether or not women did things like this intentionally. After vowing to get to the bottom of such mysteries, he began flashing back to last night. The way she whispered his name. The way she clung to him as they made love. It has to be love, he thought, how could sex be that intense if it wasn't?
A half hour later, she woke and felt engulfed in his arms. She turned over and kissed him, once on the mouth and twice on the cheek while smiling. She grabbed her robe, and started putting it on. Roman snatched it away and threw it across the room.
"Roman, stop. I have so much to do today."
"It's Saturday."
"Point being...? I have to go over to Lucas'. Something's going on that he needed to talk to me about. Then I have a hair appointment, I have to go shopping for groceries, and I have Basic Black work to catch up on." He acted as if he hadn't heard her, and kissed her in hopes that she would forget all about her "to do" list. Instead, she pushed him off her and reached over to grab her robe from where it landed on the other side of the bed. He took it again and held it up so she couldn't reach it.
"Roman, I'm not kidding. Cut it out," she demanded, but with a smile that gave off a different impression.
"One more hour," he suggested.
"Fine, but then I have to get up."
"It's a deal."
One hour turned into two, which progressed to three. Twelve-thirty crept around, and after making love two more times, Kate finally grabbed her robe and put it on. Walking towards the bathroom she said coyly, "Roman Brady, you've made me miss half the entire day."
"Well worth it, I'd say."
She stepped into the hallway to pick up the morning newspaper. As she shut the door, he came out from her room. "Any coffee in this bachelorette pad of yours?"
"I don't know," she said staring at the paper.
He waltzed over to her fridge and opened it. "Mmm, vodka, even better," he remarked sarcastically.
"Well, if you want coffee, make yourself useful and go out and get some," she shot back while flipping through the financial pages. He snatched away the sports page, tried concentrating on the World Series write-ups, but couldn't.
"OK, I wanted to get a few cups of coffee in you before I brought this up, but I just can't wait that long."
The nervous grin on his face worried her, and she began questioning her recent actions. She never let men stay the night. It was a rule. A rule that was never broken, which prompted her to began searching for any feelings of regret that may have be lurking in her for making Roman Brady, of all people, an exception. She couldn't find any, which scared her even more so than if she had. She knew, then, that whatever gestures, ideas, or expressions of love he may exhibit towards her must be thwarted. Keep them all at arms' length, she thought, and took a deep breath waiting for him to begin.
"First of all, last night, couldn't have been any more perfect. I had to laugh at how untraditional the whole thing was, but then again, so are we, so I guess it's fitting..."
She let out a nervous laugh, shifted into Indian-style position on the couch while trying her best to keep eye contact.
"I just wanted to talk to you about all this, because I'm sure we've both had enough experience in our days to know that what we have is more than just a one night thrill."
She nodded. "Oh Jesus," she thought, "why did I just do that? I'm encouraging him. I'm botching my own plan."
"So, I just wanted you to know where I stood," he continued. "I'm willing to test this out. It just amazes me how well it all works. I mean, I've always been attracted to you on some level, but I never thought we'd get on as good as we have."
She gave a fake smile. '...as good as we have,' she thought, how can I be with a man who has bouts of bad English?
"You're smart, you're charming...when you're in a good mood, you're driven, you're probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, you care about your family, your job, me, I hope...Well, anyway, I just wanted to lay the cards out on the table for you. If you want this...us...to be a permanent thing, just say the word."
His tone, his words and his carefree demeanor told her that he wanted this. Really, really wanted this. She could also tell that he was sure he'd get it. His confidence sickened her almost as much as it saddened her. She didn't want to hurt him, necessarily, but she did want to hit him for believing that she was the type of woman who was easily swept away. Cynicism had overtaken her throughout the years. All the abuse, all the heartache, all the broken pieces that she was forced to pick up alone. Did she have anything left to give? Anything that wasn't already shattered? She sat silently for a few moments mulling this over until, "no" finally came from her lips without warning.
"What?" he asked, his facial expression moved quickly from certainty to confusion.
"We had fun last night, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, let's just leave it at that," she replied coldly, once again picking up her newspaper.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His eyes shot around the room as if answers to the millions of questions formulating in his head were written on the walls or the ceiling fan or a lamp shade. He stood up, grabbed his keys from the coffee table and headed for the door. He turned, looked at her, still reading the paper as if he were a client she had just let out of their contract for failure to meet standards.
"Ya' know...," he said as he opened the door to leave. "Sami was right about you from the start." And with that, he left.
She lowered the paper, exposing her eyes, filled with tears. If she had no regrets for letting him stay, she certainly had them for letting him leave.
The still cold room was slightly dark with light only seeping through cracks in the window blinds. Roman woke to find that Kate had stolen all the covers. He let out a small laugh, and unsuccessfully tried pulling some back while looking at his watch. Ten to eight. He turned over, wrapped his arm around her and rested his head in her hair. Vanilla. She always smelled like vanilla, he thought. This began a debate in his own head as to whether or not women did things like this intentionally. After vowing to get to the bottom of such mysteries, he began flashing back to last night. The way she whispered his name. The way she clung to him as they made love. It has to be love, he thought, how could sex be that intense if it wasn't?
A half hour later, she woke and felt engulfed in his arms. She turned over and kissed him, once on the mouth and twice on the cheek while smiling. She grabbed her robe, and started putting it on. Roman snatched it away and threw it across the room.
"Roman, stop. I have so much to do today."
"It's Saturday."
"Point being...? I have to go over to Lucas'. Something's going on that he needed to talk to me about. Then I have a hair appointment, I have to go shopping for groceries, and I have Basic Black work to catch up on." He acted as if he hadn't heard her, and kissed her in hopes that she would forget all about her "to do" list. Instead, she pushed him off her and reached over to grab her robe from where it landed on the other side of the bed. He took it again and held it up so she couldn't reach it.
"Roman, I'm not kidding. Cut it out," she demanded, but with a smile that gave off a different impression.
"One more hour," he suggested.
"Fine, but then I have to get up."
"It's a deal."
One hour turned into two, which progressed to three. Twelve-thirty crept around, and after making love two more times, Kate finally grabbed her robe and put it on. Walking towards the bathroom she said coyly, "Roman Brady, you've made me miss half the entire day."
"Well worth it, I'd say."
She stepped into the hallway to pick up the morning newspaper. As she shut the door, he came out from her room. "Any coffee in this bachelorette pad of yours?"
"I don't know," she said staring at the paper.
He waltzed over to her fridge and opened it. "Mmm, vodka, even better," he remarked sarcastically.
"Well, if you want coffee, make yourself useful and go out and get some," she shot back while flipping through the financial pages. He snatched away the sports page, tried concentrating on the World Series write-ups, but couldn't.
"OK, I wanted to get a few cups of coffee in you before I brought this up, but I just can't wait that long."
The nervous grin on his face worried her, and she began questioning her recent actions. She never let men stay the night. It was a rule. A rule that was never broken, which prompted her to began searching for any feelings of regret that may have be lurking in her for making Roman Brady, of all people, an exception. She couldn't find any, which scared her even more so than if she had. She knew, then, that whatever gestures, ideas, or expressions of love he may exhibit towards her must be thwarted. Keep them all at arms' length, she thought, and took a deep breath waiting for him to begin.
"First of all, last night, couldn't have been any more perfect. I had to laugh at how untraditional the whole thing was, but then again, so are we, so I guess it's fitting..."
She let out a nervous laugh, shifted into Indian-style position on the couch while trying her best to keep eye contact.
"I just wanted to talk to you about all this, because I'm sure we've both had enough experience in our days to know that what we have is more than just a one night thrill."
She nodded. "Oh Jesus," she thought, "why did I just do that? I'm encouraging him. I'm botching my own plan."
"So, I just wanted you to know where I stood," he continued. "I'm willing to test this out. It just amazes me how well it all works. I mean, I've always been attracted to you on some level, but I never thought we'd get on as good as we have."
She gave a fake smile. '...as good as we have,' she thought, how can I be with a man who has bouts of bad English?
"You're smart, you're charming...when you're in a good mood, you're driven, you're probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, you care about your family, your job, me, I hope...Well, anyway, I just wanted to lay the cards out on the table for you. If you want this...us...to be a permanent thing, just say the word."
His tone, his words and his carefree demeanor told her that he wanted this. Really, really wanted this. She could also tell that he was sure he'd get it. His confidence sickened her almost as much as it saddened her. She didn't want to hurt him, necessarily, but she did want to hit him for believing that she was the type of woman who was easily swept away. Cynicism had overtaken her throughout the years. All the abuse, all the heartache, all the broken pieces that she was forced to pick up alone. Did she have anything left to give? Anything that wasn't already shattered? She sat silently for a few moments mulling this over until, "no" finally came from her lips without warning.
"What?" he asked, his facial expression moved quickly from certainty to confusion.
"We had fun last night, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, let's just leave it at that," she replied coldly, once again picking up her newspaper.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His eyes shot around the room as if answers to the millions of questions formulating in his head were written on the walls or the ceiling fan or a lamp shade. He stood up, grabbed his keys from the coffee table and headed for the door. He turned, looked at her, still reading the paper as if he were a client she had just let out of their contract for failure to meet standards.
"Ya' know...," he said as he opened the door to leave. "Sami was right about you from the start." And with that, he left.
She lowered the paper, exposing her eyes, filled with tears. If she had no regrets for letting him stay, she certainly had them for letting him leave.