Page 60 of Along Came Amor
“Ha. I noticed you didn’t answer the question.”
“It’s really okay—”
“Ava,please. Whatever it is, it can’t be more embarrassing than what I’ve already told you.”
She searched his face for a moment. “Pride & Prejudice. The 2005 film version,” she hurried to add. “I mean, I love the 1995 BBC miniseries too, but we’d be up all night and you have a flight tomorrow.”
Roman had never seen it, and even though Ava told him atleast a dozen times that he could pick a different movie, he put it on.
It wasn’t so much about the movie as it was learning what made her tick, to see her reactions and hear her memories from past viewings.
Snuggled together in bed, they cuddled, joked, ate pizza, and spilled Doritos in the sheets. They didn’t touch the wine.
“This Mrs. Bennet is a trip,” Roman commented, as the woman on screen had another attack of nerves.
“Mm-hmm. I can relate to having a matriarchal relative with no filter.”
At the description of Mr. Darcy, he said, “Are they talking about me?”
Ava squinted at him. “I’d say you’reinconveniently rich.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Only to you. I suppose Darcy’s a step up from Darth Vader, at least.”
She tossed a piece of popcorn at him, then settled her head against his shoulder and continued to watch.
“My cousins and I used to debate who was who,” she murmured. “They argued over who got to be Lizzie.”
“Who were you?”
“They always said I was Jane.”
He noticed that she’d said “they,” not “I.” “Is that the blonde one?”
“The perfect one.” After a moment, she added, “Deep down, I feared I was Charlotte.”
“The one who marries that boiled potatoes pendejo?”
She sighed. “The one who sacrifices her happiness for the sake of her family.”
Ah.He gave her a gentle squeeze and stroked her arm in soothing movements. “Who do you want to be now?”
“That depends.” She peered up at him from under her lashes. In the dark bedroom, the light from the TV flashed across her face, highlighting the sweet arches of her cheeks, her pretty eyes, her supple mouth. She’d piled her curls into a bun on top of her head and washed the makeup from her face. She looked younger, softer, like the embodiment of vulnerability and quiet strength, like the answer to a question he’d never dared to ask.
She was the most beautiful being he’d ever seen.
“On what?” he asked, nearly breathless at the wealth of affection threatening to swamp him.
A smile quirked the corner of her lips. “Are you Darcy or Bingley?”
He lifted a hand to stroke the curve of her jaw. His answer came out husky and full of honesty. “I’m just Roman,” he said. “And you’re just Ava. That’s all we need to be. Not perfect, not cool, not a martyr. Just us.”
The look in her eyes was so wistful it broke his heart. “I like that better.”
“Me too.”
She fell asleep three-quarters of the way through the movie with her head resting on his chest. He held her and watched until the end, needing to know why this was the movie that had so captivated her when she was young. He could see how the story of a woman finding love despite her wacky and dramatic family would appeal, and why she still turned to it for comfort now.
Tonight, though, she’d turned tohimfor comfort.
