Roman quite enjoyed that Monday morning. She was up when he got out of bed. She had freshly brewed coffee ready for him and a pancake batter ready to go on the skillet. She was almost like a little house wife. He had enjoyed his coffee and pancakes, silently hoping this would be what a future would look like with her if he ever got to have that.
"How is it to work at a bank?" She asked.
"You know, the usual. Some people are happy, others complain they can't get a loan. I see all types of people," he answered. "How is it to work for a traveling agency?"
"Busy," she shrugged. "You have no idea how many people call to get their money back if they didn't enjoy their vacation. Look, lady, I just book it for you. It's up to you to actually figure out what to do once you arrive."
"If you were to travel yourself, where would you go?" He asked.
"Iceland," she smiled. "It's very beautiful. I would like to see it at some point."
"Maybe I'll take you there," he chuckled.
He kissed the top of her head and then fixed his tie.
"Duty calls. Don't burn down the house while I'm gone," he said.
"No promises," she winked. "Oh, wait. I made you lunch."
"You made me lunch?" He asked.
She handed him a bag and he couldn't help but feel even more drawn to her. She had made him lunch. No one had made him lunch since he was a kid, and his mother didn't count in this.
"It's nothing really. Just a couple of sandwiches. One with ham and cheese and one with pepperoni," she said.
"It's perfect," he said. "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, you cooked dinner," she said.
"You cooked breakfast," he countered.
"You bought me a salted caramel latte. And it was a grande. Don't ever underestimate the power of coffee," she said. "You've earned that lunch."
He went on with his day in a good mood. New day, new week, new mood. The weekend had been a shit show and he would do everything in his power to turn it around. She deserved that. His good mood disappeared when he came home. He had tried calling her to tell her he was off work but she hadn't picked up. The house was quiet when he entered it. Her shoes were still there though.
"Whitney?" He called.
He tried her phone again and he heard it ringing from the living room. It wasn't loud though. He walked in there and found it buried under a pillow on the couch. He picked it up and saw several unanswered calls.
"Whitney? Where are you?" He called.
He walked through the house and found his bedroom door closed. He opened it and found her on his bed. She sat with her back against the wall. Her legs were pulled up to her chest. Her head was on her knees and her arms around her legs.
"Whitney, what's wrong?" He asked.
He sat down next to her in bed. She raised her head to look at him. Her cheeks were still wet from crying. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her phone ringing. She started shaking and he looked at the caller ID. Unknown number like the day before.
"It's him. I picked up earlier. He won't stop calling," she said. "Make him stop, Roman. Please."
He was torn between holding her and screaming into the phone. He nodded at her, pressed the green button and put the phone to his ear.
"Finally you pick up. I figured you'd grow tired of your own game," Joe said.
"What do you want, Joe?" Roman asked.
"Roman?" Joe chuckled. "Of course she ran to you."
"Don't play smart with me over the phone, boy. You know damn well I can take you. And I will come for you if I have to," Roman warned. "So I'm only gonna tell you this once. Stay the hell away from her or you will see me very soon."
He hung up and handed her the phone back.
"There. Hopefully that'll do the trick," he said.
"Thank you," she said.
"Do you wanna talk about what happened Saturday?" He asked.
"You know," she looked down.
"But talking about it is part of the healing process. I'll listen," he said.
"I'm embarrassed," she said.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn't do anything wrong," he said.
"You don't understand," she said. "I'm embarrassed with something he did. Something I never wanted to do. I feel so degraded and dehumanized."
He leaned his back up against the wall too, spread his legs, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her over to sit between his legs.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"You're only embarrassed because of eye contact," he answered. "I'm gonna sit here and you can sit here too or leave. You can talk or sing a song. Or we can sit in silence. It's your choice."
She didn't talk or move for a few seconds while she thought about it. Finally she leaned back against his chest.
"Will you massage my scalp?" She asked.
"Of course," he answered.
He moved his hands to her head, running his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp the best way he could. She was silent for a good, long thirty seconds before she finally cleared her throat.
"I fell asleep upstairs in Jason's bedroom," she said. "I woke up to something heavy on my legs and the feeling of my clothes being pulled down."
He listened to her tell everything. It took some time. Several times she had to stop. Many tears were being shed. Some of them weren't hers. He cried too. He didn't pressure her. She told the story in her own time and in her own words. Words that cut him into the bone.
When she was finally done, she was exhausted. She kept sitting between his legs, leaned up against his chest. He had moved his hands from her head and instead he had wrapped his arms around her waist. They sat there in silence for a long time until he realized she had fallen asleep up against him.
He gently maneuvered her around to get her to lie down. He was gonna let her sleep for as long as she needed. He figured she'd wake at some point during the evening when she got hungry. That never happened. When time came for him to go to bed, he had the choice between joining her or taking the couch she had slept on the night before. He wasn't sure if she was gonna hate him for it but he chose his bed. He was gonna be the perfect gentleman all night. If she felt the need to scream at him next morning, he would take every word with a smile.