Beyond The Roses - Monica James Page 0,47

together.

But he what? Finds it weird, too? Why? “It’s fine, honestly.”

He appears relieved. “Okay. I’ll just be outside the door. Call out if you need me.”

“Not necessary, but thank you.” When he lingers, I shoo him out the door. And even then, he hesitates to leave.

It takes me about ten minutes, but I’m finally naked. I avoid the mirror but look down at my concaved stomach. I look frail and unwell, but here’s to hoping that changes soon. I shuffle over to the shower, glancing at the clothes Roman placed on the edge of the basin. I can tell he most likely grabbed handfuls of clothes with his eyes closed, as most items are mismatched, but that’s fine. The familiar sight settles my nerves.

Just as I’m about to step into the shower, a flash of red catches my eye. Doing a quick double take, I almost collapse for an entirely different reason. Under my T-shirt sits Georgia’s bandana. How did Roman know? As silly as this is, just it being here gives me the strength I need.

This is a sign that things will be okay.

“Thank you again.”

“It’s not a problem, really.”

Roman’s gaze never wavers from the road as he drives us to Strawberry Fields. We’ve taken his Jeep instead of the bike.

My sensitive stomach feels as if I swallowed a gallon of acid, but it’s already feeling better. All in all, the side effects are horrid when they hit, but the aftermath isn’t as bad. With the initial trials, Georgia and I would be sick for days.

I finger the red bandana around my neck, smiling at the memory of when she gave it to me. Roman’s admission about not needing pictures to recall special events sticks in my mind. I agree with him. I don’t have that many photographs of Georgia because neither of us wanted a reminder of how ghastly we looked. We promised that would change once we got well. It might have been wishful thinking, but it gave us something to look forward to.

“Everything okay?”

Roman’s concern stirs me from my head, and I nod. “Yes, it really is.”

He doesn’t address my strange response; he’s probably accustomed to my weirdness by now. That has me thinking. “So will you drop me off down the street or something?”

“No. I’ll park the car, and then I’ll walk you inside,” he replies.

I turn to look at him, curling my lip in confusion, but I don’t argue.

All this sneaking around could get Roman into serious trouble. I owe him, which reminds me. Lifting my hips, I dig into my back pocket of my jean shorts and fish out my phone.

“What’s your email address?”

He averts his eyes from the road, intrigue and curiosity tugging at his lips, but he rattles off his email.

Once I’ve attached the tickets to the email, I peer at the subject line and think of something witty to write.

Hut! Hut! Hike!

I press send and smile. Roman’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Message sent.

Roman drives around the back to the parking lot.

The sun is pleasantly warm as I exit the car, and I take a moment to feel the balmy rays on my skin.

Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and bask in the sunshine. If the trials were unsuccessful and I was to eventually succumb to my disease, then I think I would miss the little things the most. The sun’s rays on my flesh, the lulling sound of rain pounding against a window during a storm, and the stillness of being with someone like Roman Archibald.

Our paths cross with different people for many reasons, and I can’t help but think that Roman’s and my meeting was fated within the stars. Georgia was a big believer in fate and destiny, and I’m now beginning to believe it too. Whatever happens is mapped out for us, and we’re just holding on, hoping for something…better.

Gradually opening my eyes, I take in Roman standing before me. He is an exquisite man, but underneath that beauty lies a broken being. He confessed to me as much last night, and I can’t help but wonder who he lost. I remind him of her. Is she the reason he’s so closed off to Tamara?

We enter around back, and I lower my face, suddenly feeling like I’m doing the walk of shame. We say our goodbyes, and as I walk to my room, I bump into Sadie.

She looks awful.

Her green dress hangs off her bony body, and her eyes are sunken into her gaunt cheeks.

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