Page 27 of Roman and the Hopeless Romantic
“How terrible you apparently think we were.”
She smirked as the candlelight flickered across his irises. “How many games did you win before Charlotte joined the team?”
“That’s not the point. How would you know anyway? It’s been years since you came to a game.”
“Actually, it’s exactly the point.” She leaned back and prodded him with her bare foot. “And I stream the games online.”
He paused and looked at her. “You watch our games?”
Her brow furrowed. “I mean… yeah. Jesse is on the team. No other reason.” She stuck out her tongue in a very old-Cassie way. Annie would be proud.
A pout formed on Roman’s lips. “I think I liked you better when you hated me.”
Folding her legs beneath her, she scooted forward, dropping her voice. “Rome… I thought I already told you—”
“I know, you didn’t hate me.” He turned to face her on the couch. “But it felt like it. And that’s not your problem. It’s entirely mine. You’ve been dealing with—”
“A lot,” she interrupted. “It’s been a lot, Rome.” She sighed and closed her eyes. It had never been her intention to hurt anyone, but how could she explain this wasn’t something she could control? That Roman wasn’t a target for her sadness, but only a casualty of war, the war she had brewing inside herself.
She fought for every word, every look she threw his way, but this was Roman, the guy who’d bandaged her scraped knees and taught how her to avoid alligators when fishing. The emotions raged in her mind, trying to keep her trapped in her cage, but she was done sitting by, done waiting for things to change.
It was time to fight.
And that started with reclaiming her voice, no matter how hard it was or how much the anxiety twisted around her, trying to keep her from moving forward.
“Do you… want to play cards?”
A heart-stopping smile spread across his face. “The Game?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get the double deck.” He hopped over the back of the couch to open the large wooden entertainment cabinet.
Cassie took a moment to check her phone, surprised to see a host of text messages.
Jesse: Not coming home tonight. You okay?
Dad: Saw the storm on the news. I hope you brought the furniture in.
He was the only other person who understood what that meant.
Mary: Stay safe, kiddo. Call me if you need anything.
Roman returned a moment later, and Cassie put the phone away without responding to any of them. For once, she wanted to live in the now.
Taking the decks from Roman, she started shuffling, which brought images of her mom to the front of her mind. These didn’t make her sad, though. Instead, she smiled at the thought of the “card classes” her mom taught them, insisting it was an important lesson in life—to be able to play a multitude of games.
In cards, she’d say, there were no friends, only the ones you beat and the ones you let beat you. She’d said it with a gleam in her eye. It was her joke. She never lost, she only let others have a chance to win.
“Do you remember learning to play The Game?” Roman sat on the floor across the coffee table.
Cassie’s lips curved up. “It was just you and me because Jesse refused to learn how to play a game with such a stupid name.”
“The Game is not a name,” Roman imitated Jesse’s young voice. “Only something without any imagination would be named that.”
Cassie laughed. “My brother was such a dude.”
“What does that even mean?” Roman took the stack of cards and started dealing eleven cards each. “I’m a dude.”
