Page 133 of Along Came Amor
They’d spent a lot more time around Ava’s family than Roman had, and they’d seen firsthand how Ava was treated. Like Cinderella, Ashton had said. Like love was conditional.
But the problem was twofold—she wasn’t just afraid of her family’s reaction to finding out about him, she was afraid of their reaction to her relationship with himending. On some level, despite what she said about trust, she was still afraid he was going to leave her.
Like her ex. Like her parents.
How was he supposed to prove he wanted forever with her when she wouldn’t let him? He’d propose tomorrow if he thought she’d say yes, but he knew it would just scare her away. Look how she’d reacted to the idea of leaving a toothbrush by his sink.
Be there.Every day.
Ashton’s directive stuck with him. It sounded simple,toosimple, except... Roman couldn’t actually do it. He was gone too often. What was he going to do, ask Ava to quit her job to go on business trips with him? That wasn’t fair to her. She had a career, even if it sounded like she was dissatisfied with her current position. And it wasn’t like he had tons of free time while he was away. He was still working nonstop.
He recalled how Ashton responded to Roman's desire to help Ava with her family.You don’t.Stop trying.
Yeah, like it was that easy.
Mikayla’s voice, yelling at him.I don’t want you todoanything!
Who the hell was he if he wasn’t trying to solve problems for the people he loved? If he wasn’t trying to make their lives easier and save them from hardship?
The idea flummoxed him, making him feel tense and out of control.
His mother’s words came back to him then.You can’t control everything.When is it going to be enough?
It was never going to be enough. Therefore, he’d never beable tobe therefor Ava the way he wanted to, the way she deserved.
A hollow pit opened in his gut, and before he could question the impulse, he called his mother. Dulce picked up on the third ring.
“Hi, Ro.”
“Is this what I do?” he blurted out. “Fix things, instead of being there?”
“Hold on.” The sound of the K-drama in the background went off. “What do you mean?”
“For you and Mickey.” He shoved a hand through his hair and paced the corner of the lounge, walking a tight loop. “Is this my MO? Rushing to fix, instead of, I don’t know, justbeing therefor you.”
He heard his mother sigh. “If you’re asking, you already know the answer.”
“But fixing things isn’tbad.” He sounded childish, but somehow, talking to his mom made him feel like he was ten years old again. “Why would I let the people I love suffer if I can do something about it?”
“Listen to me, Roman.” Her voice was quiet and firm. “You cannot change the fact that your father left.”
Her words landed like a direct hit to his solar plexus. He wanted to deny it, to say that thisabsolutely wasn’t about his fucking father, but now that she’d said it, put those words—“your father”—into the air, the subject coalesced into something tangible and distracting and real.
Yes, he realized. This was, at least in part, about his fucking father.
“Maybe not. But if we’d had more money, more security,our lives would have gone differently.” And the part he didn’t say:Maybe he wouldn’t have left.
As usual, his mother read his mind. “Your father was always going to leave, whether we had one dollar or one million. He couldn’t handle responsibility, and no amount of money would’ve fixed that.”
On an intellectual level, Roman knew she was right. But some part of him had always wondered,What if?
“I don’t remember him,” Roman admitted in a hushed tone. “But I knew you were struggling. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it. Except work.”
He’d felt powerless as a child, watching his mother bust her ass to pay the bills and take care of him. When he’d handed her money for the first time, something had shifted in him, a growing sense of purpose.
Money had given him control over his situation. The more money, the more control. And the feeling of helplessness had diminished.
Yet it had never entirely gone away.
