Page 84 of Shattered Dreams
I come apart with a cry that echoes through the kitchen, my fingers tangled in his hair, my thighs trembling around his head as he works me through it with his tongue.
When he stands, he kisses me hard, letting me taste myself on his lips, then spins me around to face the counter.
"Hands flat on the granite. Don't move."
I obey without question.God help me, I obey.
He enters me from behind in one deep, brutal thrust that has me screaming his name and gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles go white. He fucks me like he's reclaiming every inch of what he lost, like he's marking territory, like he's proving that some things are worth fighting for.
Each thrust is a promise; every grunt is a vow.
When I come again, my whole body shaking with the force of it, he follows immediately, holding me so tight against him that I think we might both break from the intensity.
But we don't break.
Not this time.
Later that morning,after we've showered together, and I've put on actual clothes, we pick up Poppy from Amanda’s house. She runs to Roman like nothing has changed, like the months of separation were just a bad dream. I notice Amanda and Scottexchange looks, but they say nothing, which I’m grateful for. Of course, everyone is going to have an opinion, but it needs to be my decision now.
“Daddy!”
We take her to the park, the one with the big oak trees and the playground equipment that's probably older than both of us. She runs ahead in her favourite tutu and bright yellow rain boots that don't match anything but make her happy.
Roman watches her with an expression I haven't seen in years—pure, uncomplicated joy. His fingers are laced with mine as we walk behind her. He keeps kissing my hand, and it makes me feel so fucking special.
"She doesn't hate me anymore," he says quietly.
"She never did. Kids don't hate the way adults do, Roman. They hurt, but they don't carry grudges. They forgive easier than we do."
He nods, his jaw tight with emotion he's still learning how to express.
We walk in comfortable silence, watching our daughter spin and dance and laugh at things only she can see. The sun is warm on our faces, and for the first time in months, I can picture a future that includes all three of us.
Poppy runs back to us after a few minutes, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and grabs Roman's free hand. She squints up at him with that serious expression she gets when she's thinking hard about something important.
"You don't look like a prince anymore," she says matter-of-factly.
My heart aches for him—I know how much this hurts him.
Roman blinks, then kneels down to her level. "No? What do I look like?"
She tilts her head, studying his face like she's memorizing it. "Like a dad who's trying really hard."
He chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob and pulls her into a hug that lifts her feet off the ground. "That's so much better than a prince anyway, baby girl."
We keep walking after that, the three of us hand-in-hand-in-hand, his thumb circling my palm the whole time.
And something that's been shattered for months finally feels like it might be slotting back together again. My shattered dreams need to be replaced with new ones, made of something tougher than glass. This time, they’ll be unbreakable.
EPILOGUE
AVA
The backyard is full of noise—laughter and clinking glasses, Poppy squealing as Jacob lifts her high in the air. Roman's mom is fussing over the grill with her apron on and tongs in hand, like she's running a restaurant. My aunt is chatting with Amanda in the shade, both sipping wine and throwing looks my way every few minutes.
It feels weird having everyone together like this, this normal life after everything that happened.
Roman stands across the yard, watching Poppy and watching me. We do that now—keep each other in view, not because we're desperate or scared, just because we want to.
