Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3) (20 page)

"I need more time," she says.

"How much more? You want to stretch this out so long that neither one of us will ever tell him? Is that your plan?"

"You never wanted us together in the first place did you?"

"No I didn't, and I never made that a secret to Roman. It's nothing personal, but Rome is a very complicated man. Distractions throw him off his game, and you have become his ultimate distraction. You think it's because he doesn't have any new clients that he's acting crazier than usual, but that's not it. It's you."

"He's changing, and you don't like it. It scares you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I'm sorry, but last time I checked you weren't a fucking psychologist. He's not changing, and I'm not scared. You should be though."

"I thought you and I were good."

"We were cool ... until this."

A text comes in from none other than the topic of our discussion.

Roman: Where's my old address book?

"Excuse me one second," I say. "Speak of the devil."

The look on Elizabeth's face is priceless. She's scared shitless.

Me: The dinosaur?

Roman: Yes, I need a number out of there. I didn't transfer all the contacts to my phone.

Me: Why?!

Roman: JADE!

ME: All right. It's at the club in the back of the second drawer of the file cabinet.

Roman: Where r u?

Me: A meeting

Roman: I'm not paying for you to spend the day getting your nails done. Get back to the club.

Me: You need to get laid.

Roman: You're fired.

Me: That's too bad because I have the key to the file cabinet.

Roman. Get your ass in here NOW!

I chuckle out loud and then turn my attention back to Elizabeth. By the look on her face, she seems to be upset by our text exchange. She's probably paranoid that I've already said something to him.

"I didn't say anything if that's what you're worried about."

"Did you tell him you were here?"

"No."

"What can I do to convince you to help me?"

"Nothing."

"Jade, please. I need more time to tell him."

"You've got forty-eight hours. You want Rome busy with work? You want things better between the two of you? Then tell him about this shit, and you'll see just how fucking busy he'll become. The old Roman would have taken care of that loser the minute you told him what happened, but you must have a magic box in between those legs of yours, because I've never seen him leave loose ends like this."

"I can see that you are very loyal to Roman, and while that is to be commended, the fact remains that I can handle my life in whatever frackin' way I choose to. If I choose not to tell him about a harmless email that would only upset him, then that's my business. Not yours."

"He didn't email you for nothing. You can't be that stupid. If he's reaching out, there must be a reason. That's the issue. It's not going to stop with this one email."

"I don't know if it will stop or not, but I'd like to be allowed the opportunity to see if it does before I'm forced to involve other people. So in other words, I want you to mind your own damn business."

Finally! The girl is starting to grow a pair. Her eyes tell me that adrenaline is coursing through her body, and she's had it with this visit. She's livid. She walks to her front door and opens it for me. My cue to leave. I look at her for a moment, stand up, and walk towards the door.

"Nice to see you have a little bit of a backbone, Elizabeth, I wasn't sure if your sweet, suburban ass had it in you. But two days is still all you've got. If he doesn't threaten to fire me about this in the next two days, I'll know that you haven't said anything."

I think I got my point across. If she had slammed the door any harder behind me, she would have taken off one of my fingers.

Some nerve.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ROMAN

"Did you get it?" I ask Jade.

"You know theft was never part of my job description when you hired me," she says as she sips on a bottle of some weird diet green tea.

"Your job description is to do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. I'm sure that's written down somewhere on your paycheck."

"And I'm SO sure that I could sue your ass for the way that you talk to me."

"You sure keep finding creative ways to get out of keeping your job. I think you're itching for me to fire you."

"It'll never happen. I know where the bodies are buried."

"You keep thinking that. So did you get it or not?"

"I got it, I got it. Here."

Jade hands me a stamped letter-sized envelope with my name on it. It's the letter from my mother. I had a hunch I knew where Joseph was keeping it, and I asked her to go over there under the guise of picking up some old vendor paperwork for The Lotus. Many of the old files are still in Joseph's home office, and I knew that he wouldn't be there on Tuesday. He always heads over to the boathouses on Tuesdays.

"Did you have any problems?"

"Of course not. Juliette let me in and gave me free reign. I made sure to take some Lotus files too, so it would look legit."

Jade hands me several old Lotus files. I toss them on the floor and continue looking at the letter. It's been opened and then resealed with scotch tape. Clearly Joseph read it, didn't like what it said, and kept it from me. I'm not totally sure why he didn't rip it up though, but I'll be the first to admit that the old man is like an enigma to me. I'll never figure him out.

"What's up with Elizabeth?" Jade asks totally out of the blue.

I raise my eyes to meet hers. Why is she suddenly so interested in my relationship with Elizabeth?

"What do you mean what's up with her?"

"Just haven't seen her in a while, so I was asking. Is that a federal crime?"

I cock my head to the side and squint my eyes. I've already told her that we were taking a little time off.

"She's fine," I say suspiciously.

"All right already. I'm leaving. You can never say that I don't ask you shit about your life, because I just did, and you acted like I was about to rob you."

She's up to something.

"Thanks for the letter, lazy lima bean."

She grunts some sort of good-bye as she heads out.

After she leaves, I pour myself a shot of Patron and then chase it with a lowball of Jack. I need to take the edge off if I'm going to read this letter. I have no idea what it's going to say, but my mother never had a great way with words. I'm sure it's not going to be filled with heart-felt sentiments. She's incapable of that. Whatever it says though, I'll deal with it. I'm a big boy.

♥
♥
♥

Dear Roman,

If you're reading this letter it means that, that son of a bitch Joe is getting soft, or I'm dead. I'm writing this letter as a part of my amends to you. My sponsor suggested that I write it. She's a bitch on wheels, but she's successfully sponsored like fifteen people who are still clean, so I'm sticking with her.

I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't call or visit with an apology for fucking up your life, but the truth is that I'm not ready to face you. Not when I'm still working stuff out. Not when I know that Joe gave you everything that I couldn't. It would just make me feel entirely too shitty if I faced you now. And when I feel shitty, I get high. It's one of my patterns.

So I'm just going to tell you all the things that I'm sorry for here in this letter. In fact, there's something that I've wanted to tell you for a long time now. Actually there are a few things. The first thing is that while it isn't an excuse, there is an explanation for my behavior. I have a dual diagnosis of bipolar disorder and narcotic addiction. That's what my doctor said.
 

In other words, I am a very sick woman, and I always have been. No one was able to help me up until now. For a long time no one knew that I had this thing wrong with me. This defect. I'm sure you already know all of this by now, but I just wanted to make sure you understood it. I didn't choose to be such a mess. I was genetically cursed with it. You may want look it up one day in case you have kids or something.

Second thing is if you are angry with me. Stop it. Being angry with me will only make your life a living hell. I know because I was angry with my own mother for so long. I still am. But I'm working everyday to try and stop being so mad, so that I can be better and maybe one day be better to you.

The last thing is the hardest thing I've ever had to say. To admit. I haven't been truthful with you and this might make the second thing I told you to do (stop being angry) a lot harder, but here it goes. Joe is not your biological father. Before you ask, I do know who it is, but he's dead, so it doesn't make much sense to look for him or his family. I wouldn't even begin to know where to tell you to start anyway. He wasn't really important to me. He was just a guy.
 

Joe was everything to me back then. I felt like I was drowning. I was up, then I was down. Because of my mood swings, I couldn't keep a job and I didn't understand why. I couldn't keep a man interested in me for long unless I gave them sex. The only guy in the neighborhood who treated me like a person with feelings was Joe. He was nice. He was my friend.

When I found out I was pregnant, I panicked. I didn't know how the hell I was going to support a child. I didn't even have the money to get an abortion. Your real father acted like he didn't have it or couldn't get it. So I admit that I thought Joe was my ticket.
 

I made sure to sleep with him once, and then I made him think that he was the father. I had fooled myself into believing that once I did, he would all of a sudden want to be with me. Want to marry me. And raise you together. But that wasn't reality. And when reality bit me in the ass, I wasn't prepared, and I tumbled really low for a really long time. You saw a lot of my low and I'm sorry for that too.
 

I never said anything to him, because he took care of you. He sent money and he'd send you a birthday gift every year. That's more than my father ever did for me. More than your real father was ever going to do.
 

So there you go. All my sins. All my regrets. I hope you can find some peace in what I've written. It felt kind of good to write it. Now I just have to get the guts to send it. Which if you're reading this right now, means I must have grown a pair and did the right thing.
 

I live in Nevada now with a real nice man who treats me well. He's a postal worker and is set to retire in a few years. If I can stay clean, we're going to get married and I'll invite you to the wedding. I may have never said it much, but I do love you, Roman. You're my son and nothing will ever change that.

Be Happy,

Your Mother

♥
♥
♥

I'm not a feely, touchy type of man. I don't think it's part of my genetic make up; I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my mother's letter has rocked me to the core.

Even if she's off the pills and the booze, it is painfully obvious that she is still obsessed with only how she feels every fucking minute of the day. As if her feelings are the only ones that matter.

While the tone of the letter is somewhat apologetic, it's more narcissistic and self-serving than anything. Especially that bomb she dropped at the end. The old man isn't my father? And what the fuck does she think I'm supposed to do with that revelation at this point in my life. He's been my father for most of my life. The only one I've known. Like it or not, he's been there. She hasn't.

Have I judged him too harshly? Is it possible that the old man has known my entire life that he isn't my real father and raised me anyway? What about that whole confession speech he made about not wanting me but choosing to take care of his responsibilities. Has my mother actually pulled one over on him all of this time? It's hard to believe. One thing Joseph isn't is stupid. If my mother was just a one-night stand for him, or even a casual fling, I can't imagine that he wouldn't have made sure that I was his kid.

Damn, she's a bitch.

I haven't seen or heard from my mother in years and she still is incapable of giving me what I need. The only thing I've ever really wanted from her.

Closure.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ELIZABETH

There's nothing sexy about Spanx. I mean let's be honest. They do everything they can to resist being pulled on the human body. It's almost as if they are fighting back the soft and squishy curves of a woman. And let's be real. No man has ever gotten a hard-on looking at a woman's stomach, thighs, and butt encased in a pair of flesh colored, high waisted, spandex shorts. Looking very much like a raw sausage link. Definitely not sexy.

And then there's the fact that most women need to create an entire ritual to get the things on and off. I include myself among that lot. In fact, I've created a simple protocol for putting on these magical pieces of stretchy fabric, which I'm fine-tuning tonight. I'm attempting to get these suckers on by slathering my favorite Jasmine scented body butter all over my thighs to provide a bit more slip, and then wiggling them on while dancing to some sickeningly empowering Meghan Trainor song. Another song about how big and beautiful she is. Seems like an ironic song selection, since I'm trying to make myself appear ten pounds lighter.