Page 66 of Roman and the Hopeless Romantic
Cassie
When Cassie was a little girl, the couch in her dad’s office was a familiar place. If she was invited to sit in there with him, it usually meant she was in trouble.
Her mom didn’t have the heart to issue out punishments to her ornery kids. Well, to Cassie at least. She’d always been her mom’s favorite—not that she’d ever tell her brothers that. But Jesse knew.
He hadn’t cared because he’d had their dad.
That’s not to say their mom neglected any of her kids. She was the best mom in the world. But she found Cassie’s troublemaking to be more funny than punishment-worthy.
They shared that wild spirit. The spirit Cassie lost the day she lost her mom. She often wondered if it died with her, just like her dad’s joy seemed to fade into memory.
Now, here she was in the same place. The couch wasn’t the same piece of furniture that sat in the room when she was a kid, but it took up the same space.
Cassie curled her legs up under her, trying to get comfortable on the unfamiliar leather sofa. “It’s too stuffed.”
“What?” Her dad looked up from where he’d been checking his phone.
“The couch. I don’t like it so stuffed.”
One corner of his mouth curved up. “It just hasn’t been used enough.” He met her gaze, probably calling forth the same memories as her. Their “conversations” used to be a bi-weekly occurrence at the minimum. Sometimes Jesse or Roman would be beside her awaiting their own punishments. Other times, Cassie took the blame for whatever the three of them did.
It was usually her fault.
She stretched her arms along the back of the couch, trying to act as if being there didn’t bother her. It was a tactic she’d learned when she was eight years old. Though, her short arms at that age had to stretch to reach the back of the tall couch.
“This feels normal.” Her dad set his phone down.
“Annie likes to say there’s no such thing as normal.”
He chuckled. “She’s said that to me a time or two.”
“She told me you two talk.”
“On occasion. It started when I wanted to know how you were doing, but then it became a regular occurrence.”
She dropped her arms and leaned forward. “Dad, you could have just asked how I was doing.”
“No.” He shifted his eyes away. “For a while there, I couldn’t.”
She understood what he meant by that. Their grief, their trauma, was like a vast sea pulling them under. Each time they tried to surface, a wave crashed down around them.
They had to wait for the seas to calm, having faith that one day they would. Maybe their faith paid off. “I think you’re supposed to be punishing me.”
He perched on the corner of his desk and ran a hand down his faded dad-jeans. They were a far cry from the pressed suits he wore almost every day of his life. She glanced around the office, noticing the dark computer screen and clear desk. He wasn’t working today.
When was the last time that happened?
He offered her a tentative smile. “Whenever I used to hand out punishments, your mother would wait outside the office door, eavesdropping and bouncing on her toes.”
Cassie could picture it, and it made her smile. “She was nervous for me.” She laughed. “Even though the only punishments you ever gave me were extra chores or longer reading times in the evening.”
“You sure hated to read.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now it seems like the only thing you do.”
“I was too young back then to discover romance novels.”
He cringed. “Cassandra.” He stood and moved to the couch, taking a seat beside her. “I won’t pretend to know why we found you asleep in Roman’s room this morning.”
“He was sick, Dad. I didn’t want to leave him alone. We just fell asleep.”
