Page 120 of Along Came Amor
“We forgot about dessert,” she exclaimed. “I’ll go get it.”
While Dulce went to help Mikayla, Ava and Roman collected the dirty dishes to bring them back to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to hear that,” Ava said quietly as she stacked plates.
Roman’s brow furrowed and he paused in gathering the silverware. “Hear what?”
“Your argument with your mother. About her moving out.”
Roman stared at her blankly. “Why wouldn’t I want you to hear it? We were just talking.”
She shrugged, worried he’d see too much. “Never mind. I guess it made me think about my own family, that’s all.”
He only nodded, but his watchful gaze said they’d come back to this later. “Are you having fun tonight?”
“I am.” She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “They’re great, Roman. Really great.”
“I know.” He gave a huff of laughter. “It’s probably weird that I don’t want them to leave, but you can see why, right?”
She could. This was the core of who he was. He took care of the people he loved, in every way he knew how.
That includes you now, that little voice whispered. But instead of scaring her, it made her feel warm inside.
Chapter 37
Roman leaned back in his chair, a slice of chocolate torte sitting ignored on the plate in front of him as he watched Ava chat with his mom and sister.
He was so fucking happy.
These three women meant more to him than anything else in the world, and seeing them together in his home made him feel settled in a way nothing ever had before. They were getting along well—not that he’d expected otherwise. Ava fit here. As seamlessly as if she’d been coming over for years. It was like he was being given a glimpse into the rest of his life, if he could only convince Ava to give them a real chance.
He was tired of hiding and sneaking around. He understood that she was uncomfortable opening up with her family, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Didn’t she know he’d protect her from anything that caused her distress? Even her own relatives.
After dessert, Dulce insisted on showing Ava photos from Roman’s childhood. Mikayla took that as her cue to go watch her friend’s video game livestream.
Roman had told Ava that his wealth was new, but it seemed like, while perusing photos of him as a little boy in the 1980s indifferent neighborhoods in Brooklyn, she looked at him with deeper understanding in her eyes.
“This is why you work so hard,” she said, coming up next to him after Dulce had excused herself for the night.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and surveyed the apartment around him, as he did so often, still unable to believe it was his, and that it wouldn’t be going away.
“I had to learn all this,” he said. “How to be a wealthy person in this city. How to manage money and business. I did my MBA as quickly as I could while bartending at night. I had to learn how the people with generational wealth do it, so I didn’t screw up, so I could secure Mickey’s future the right way. I was terrified that I’d blow all my money on stupid shit, or that a corrupt financial adviser would clean me out because they saw me for what I was—a poor Puerto Rican kid from Brooklyn who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”
“You’ve done so much.” Ava took his face in her hands. “When do you get to rest?”
He cupped his hands around hers where they pressed his cheeks. “I’m still that kid, Ava. He’s still with me, in me, every second of the day. He doesn’t rest.”
He needed her to know this. Toseehim. He wasn’t just Mr. Roman Vázquez, CEO of VQZ Ltd and the owner of Dulce Hotel Group and Casa Donato Rum. He was Ro, that kid who would do your homework for five bucks, the guy who worked at the pizza place around the corner, the bartender who never lost his grin, even after the most chaotic closing shift. He was Román, the college grad who’d stumbled his way into a short-lived but surprisingly lucrative television career. Every version lived within him, along with thehimhe’d always felt himself tobe at his core, no matter his age, what he wore, or how much money was in his pocket.
“I admire you,” she said softly, her sparkling hazel eyes drawing him in. “You know that? The more I learn about you, the more I like what I see.”
“It’s one of the things I love about you,” he told her. “A lot of people only see me as I am now. But I think you would have liked me, even back then.”
She pursed her lips and pretended to think. “The teacher in me isn’t thrilled about your homework smuggling ring, but you were just a kid, and your intentions were noble. Otherwise, yeah. I think I would have liked you then, too.”
He barked out a laugh and moved in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It started slow, a gentle slide, then deepened into something more luxurious, with a simmering undercurrent of passion.
“Come to bed,” he whispered against her mouth. Her lips trembled like she was inhaling his words.
