Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(4)

I like gruff, snarky, loud people who are as interested in me as I am in them.

I cannot deal with the niceness for too long without longing for the days when my dad would grunt at me over dinner and scream at me to pass the remote.

For God’s sake, Clari keeps trying to hug me and she’s cried three times since I arrived…an hour ago. Miah seems indulgent and harried. Jared looks at his wife as if the poor woman’s being holds all the secrets to life.

And the other two are so gaga for their girls it makes me sick.

Well, not sick exactly…

Okay, so I’m jealous and resentful that they’re together while the guy I love is prancing around like Mr. Freaking Double Agent. Or something.

At least I hope he’s, like, infiltrating and not getting settled in, because if the latter is true, his balls are in danger of becoming ground beef.

“So, Mel, honey, tell Mama what’s going on with your morning sickness,” Judith trills, smiling so widely that it’s a physical struggle for me not to attack her and remind her what this shit is like.

Does she seriously not remember waking up so fast, you’re falling head-first into the toilet bowl before your eyes open? And what’s up with the way this Clari chick is smiling when she looks greener than a pea?

“Er, it sucks bal—I mean, it sucks a lot, ma’am.”

“Oh pooh, call me Mama! Now you remember to take your vitamins after your breakfast and never drink ginger ale warmer than chilled and you’ll be just fine. Oh!” she squeals so loudly that I actually jump out of my skin for a second before the tears and hand clapping start. “I can’t believe this. George, we’re going to have more grandbabies! Can you just imagine it, honey?”

George, or Pop, as he keeps insisting I call him, just smiles indulgently and goes back to his paper when his wife keeps chattering about onesies and matching nurseries.

I’m scoping out the Lane men as they all four recline beside their women, looking uneasy.

I know what their mood is about because I’m the reason for it. They are watching me as if I’m about to pull a runner at any moment.

And I am. I so am. The first minute I find myself unsupervised—if that ever happens—I’ll be gone. I just need a plan. Right now my only objective is to get in touch with Roman—something that’s been near impossible since he stopped calling the burner phone he got me.

Weeks of waiting has taken its toll. I may be ready to just lie back and relax for more than a minute, but I need to find that rat bastard before he either gets his fool head shot or my kid pops out.

That’s about the only softness I’ve allowed myself since my daddy got involved with that no-good bunch of murderous thieves.

Lesson one, as Daddy always said, stay strong no matter how weak you are. I’m halfway to broken right now, but I haven’t shown it except for that little crying incident back at my childhood home. I have no intentions of breaking now.

After I brain Roman and make spaghetti out of his nuts, that’s when I’ll cry and let all this pent-up pain and rage out.

It takes about another hour of interrogation before old Judith lets me go upstairs to a bedroom that matches Roman’s tastes but smells nothing like him.

I close the door with a sigh and lean back against the door, resisting the urge to smell a pillow because…really, who smells a dude’s pillow?

“Goddammit!” I yell when I reach the bed without thinking and find my face buried in his pillow, my nose watering when all I smell is fabric softener and clean sheets.

“Get yourself together, Mel. You are not the pillow-smelling type.”

I fall to the bed, clutching the pillow to my chest, and stare into the darkened room. I’ve morphed into one of those pathetic women who start pining over a guy and end up standing outside his building, waiting for a glimpse of him while he swans around town with a piece of cheap tail.

I hate those girls, and yet as I lay here and watch the light of the stars twinkling in a crystal-clear sky, I miss Roman so much that it feels like I have a limb missing or something.

I met the man when I was so desperate to do something to help Daddy, and I knew that playing house with him was not a good idea.

I played it anyway, and before I knew it we weren’t playing anymore. Roman is just so…irresistible I guess is the word. With those blue eyes that are always twinkling with mirth and that boyish grin, I soon found myself wanting to make him smile and relishing the times I could make him laugh with my off-color humor.

It doesn’t hurt that the man is sexy as hell. I couldn’t resist him, not with the way he’d touch me every chance he got and drop little suggestive comments whenever the opportunity arose.