☆KC☆

“Fuck!” 

Jimmy’s knee-jerk reaction to the heated iron of the alternator accidentally pressing against the skin of his wrist propels him to drop the car part, a hiss slipping past his teeth.

The jarring sound of the heavy metal component falling back under the hood of the Hellcat forces Roman to seize up before shooting Jimmy a look of annoyance.

An array of tools and oil-stained rags lie scattered near the tires as Jimmy smacks his teeth and readjusts the knit gloves Roman tossed him earlier, “it’s hot, bruh. My bad.” 

It’s a sweltering day in Florida, albeit an off day nonetheless. 

He’d decided it was as good a time as any to pop open the the hood of his SRT and finally replace that shitty alternator that’s been giving him problems when the twins peeled into his driveway with a six-pack of beer to watch the game between the 49ers and the Eagles. A proposition he gruffly accepted under the stipulation that they lend him a hand in his stubborn driveway project.

Roman gets back to unscrewing the bolts with a wrench when Jimmy picks the hunk of metal up. His head tucked underneath the propped-up hood, he mutters. “Lower.”

“It’s low, uce.”

“Lower.” His eyes quickly flit to his cousin, his hefty bicep powering the see-saw of his arm to loosen the screw. “If you two can’t make yourselves useful, the gate’s right there.”

Jimmy holds the alternator at a steeper angle and looks past Roman’s shoulders to his open garage. 

Jey, inside the makeshift gym, grunts as he lifts the weighted bar off his chest one more time before hooking it back onto the bench press— a look exchanged between the two brothers when their eyes lock as a breathless Jey lifts himself into a sitting position. He stands and walks over to them, the squeeze of his water bottle driving a stream of ice cold water down his throat.

“Aye, what’s up with you uce?”

In all walks of life, detachment has never been a practice he’s had much issue with. In fact, many would say it’s his strong suit. So much so that his ability to do so as seamlessly as he does itself often creates conflict. Most notably in his past relationships, if they could even be called that. 

The complaints were infinite, but he’s still managed to hear them all. 

You don’t even care, do you? 

You know you can pretend to give a fuck, Roman.

His stoic disposition never did him any favors, neither. Six foot three and two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure impenetrable stone. Yet, for reasons that he can’t fucking stand, time and time again, you have proved to be the only exception.

You’re all that’s been on his mind.

It was a little easier to detach from you after the split because he was so upset with you for leaving him over a situation you’d essentially caused, but he’s been finding it much more difficult this time around since he was convinced you were keeping him at a distance for Younes’ sake; most of all, because it’s been a month and he’s yet to see anything from you to prove it had anything to do with Younes at all. 

You went on two dates with ole boy, you brought him to the house, you cut Roman off over what happened to Vernon’s boat which is coincidentally what got him fired, you weren’t having any of Roman’s attempts to make it right with you, you’re forcing him to respect the custody agreement which sounds like you’re making sure he doesn’t pop up at the house outside of when you’re expecting him— and now you’re cutting off his access to the security camera?

This has ‘you cut him loose because you and Younes are a thing now and you want to be able to slip him in and out of the house without his knowledge’ written all over it. 

Despite his speculation overwhelmingly pointing to the complete opposite, it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility that you were being honest with him when you said it was about Vernon. You do care about that type of shit. Fucking… kindness and shit like that. 

He’ll never forget the first time you watched him surf at the beach when you two first started dating. It was five in the morning when you saw baby turtles hatching on the sand. You picked them up to move them closer to the sea and make their journey shorter, telling him that they have a low chance of even making it to the water because of predatory birds and other animals on the shore. He watched, perplexed, telling you that you were messing with the natural order of things, that the ones who survive are the ones meant to. Natural selection and shit.

You didn’t care.

It’s just that, if you were telling him the truth, then he’d fucked up.

Big time.

Shit, the only reason he threw caution to the wind with Mia was because he was so sure you were lying to him. 

He even gave you the opportunity to end it during the blow-up at your place when he walked in on the two of you after your date, and you couldn’t. You were only willing to after you found out about the boat and what it ended up doing to ole boy. That was all he needed to know.

Two dates.

Two. 

When he hadn’t taken anyone on even one since he’d laid eyes on you for the first time.

And then the way you were talking about how ‘it was time you started taking your love life seriously’ during that argument? It was incriminating. 

He was just reading between the lines, or so he thought.

He knows you and how much of a lovergirl you are. It’s only so long until you’re prancing around this island with that piece of shit. The same way you used to do with him. When you’re in, you don’t care about anything. You can be idealistic like that. It wouldn’t matter to you that word would make it back to him, you’d want what you have to prosper outside of confinement. Everyone be dammed.

Yet, you haven’t. And it’s making him rethink everything.

Regardless, it’s none of these idiots business.

His eyes are locked onto the alternator as Jey approaches from behind, grime staining Roman’s loose muscle tee, his upper arms, and his shorts. “Your dumb ass brother can’t hold this shit correctly to save his damn life, that’s what.”

Jey leans over the exposed intestines of the Hellcat, “I would’ve just taken this shit to the shop.”

Roman scoffs under his breath, “I don’t expect anything more from two grown ass men that get chauffeured around like they don’t have hands and feet of their own.” 

Jey smacks his lips as Jimmy turns to look at Lorelei on the other side of the lawn, “your daddy’s a real hard ass, Lorelei. Say it with me sweetheart,” he enunciates slowly so it’s easier for her to pick up, “hard ass. Uh-huh. Sending you back to your mama with some new tricks.” 

Jey’s laughing as he takes another gulp from his water bottle when Roman flits his eyes away from underneath his hood for a second to check in on her, wiping away at the sweat on the bridge of his nose with his wrist. 

She’s sitting on the pristine grass near the garden, the slobbery cherry lollipop Jey gave her three hours ago still in one fist and a stuffed animal in her other hand. As he’s placing the wrench back around one of the bolts, he pauses to do a double take. 

The longer he squints at the stuffed animal in her hand, the more he recognizes it.

“No, I want that one.” You point past the big teddy bear prize and at a much, much smaller stuffed animal. A baby deer.

He scrunches his face up, “why? That one’s fucking tiny.”

“It’s so cute. Look at it’s doe eyes. And the baby pink bow on it’s nose.”

The sound of children laughing and music from the carousel fills the state fair as he shakes his head, giving the bored employee his ticket card to scan. 

You watched with intrigue off onto the side, a blue wisp of cotton candy in your hand, as he flings darts to three rows of moving balloons, popping all but the one at the tip top of the pyramid structure.

The employee grins smugly, “aw. Maybe next time.”

You intertwine your hands with his and pull him away, his eyes still locked on the employee. “It’s okay, c’mon.”

“Fucking scam. They’re designed to fail. They just want your money.” He mutters. 

But when he sees three boys who look to be in their mid-teens rough-housing one another near the funnel cake food truck, he gets an idea. 

“Stay right here.”

You watch him approach the boys with your brows furrowed. He says something you can’t make out of due to the distance and the volume of all the rowdy games, but you see them look at one another with a smirk before nodding at him and placing their funnel cakes on the table they’re near. He pulls his wallet out, give all three of them a bill each, and walks back over to you.

“What did you w—” Your question dies on your tongue when you see two of the boys stalk towards the Balloon Dart stand and the other one stealthily approaches from the side. 

The two interrupt a conversation between the man tending the booth and the people next in line, pointing at a random route and look back at him as if they’re seemingly in need of direction. All as the other one tip-toes behind the guy, sneakily climbing on the back platform and reaching for the stuffed baby deer.

You turn towards him with your mouth parted, but he’s concentrated. He watches it play out with his arms crossed and his index finger and thumb pinching his bottom lip, the edges slightly upturned. “Roman!”

He grabs your hand and casually leads you away from the booth, past the neon arch entrance of the fair despite your inability to look away from the scene. Strategically, long before you hear the guy yell a resounding ‘Hey!’ in the distance. 

The three teens sprint past the exit, past the boardwalk, and past you, only slowing to a stop near the trash can landmark in the parking lot just as Roman instructed them where their laughs bleed through their attempt to catch their breath.

When they spot you two rounding the parking lot, one of them yells a ‘look alive.’ He tosses the stuffed animal in the air like it’s a football and it lands directly in Roman’s palm before they start walking in the opposite direction.

You look at him in disbelief when he hands it to you, “you’re actually ridiculous.”

“You said you wanted it, didn’t you?”

The gruff rumbling of a nearing engine jerks his attention from Lorelei to the other side of the lawn. Squinting, he removes himself from the hood, puts the wrench down and peels his gloves off his hand when the block gates of his estate slowly part.

Jey turns his body around to face the entrance, looking to Roman. “You expecting someone?”

He grabs a cloth and wipes off some of the grime that snuck onto his fingers, “hell nah.” Definitely not someone who knows the pin for entry. Shit, even the twins don’t have that.

A fold forms between his brows as he watches his father’s Ford truck peel into the circular driveway.

As Silas puts the truck into park and exits the car, Lorelei lifts herself up and walks the fastest her little feet can take her towards all the ruckus. Silas slams the door shut and rounds the car, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Lorelei waddling up to him. “Uh-oh, uh-oh!” he crouches to his haunches, his wide eyes darting to Roman, “since when?”

He sticks his hands into the pockets of his shorts and makes his way over to him as Lorelei waddles straight into her grandfather’s arms with a gummy grin, a high-pitched shriek spilling out of her when Silas takes her into his arms and shoots upright to his feet. 

Roman blows out a breath and shakes his head, “a couple months ago, out of nowhere.”

The speed in which she’s growing is… too fast. He doesn’t like it one bit. Hell, he didn’t even like it when she started pushing his hand off the bottle to hold it up on her own. That shit ruined his day. He used to always get on you for being so obsessed with getting her every walking moment on digital camera, but the more milestones she reaches, the quieter and quieter he’s gotten about it.

“Watch out world, huh?” Silas looks at Lorelei in admiration and strolls up towards the twins with Roman by his side. He greets them both with short and firm one-shoulder hugs, “what y’all working on?”  

Roman crosses his arms and ticks his head down towards the engine, “alternator’s jammed.”

“You have grandpa’s toolbox here, right?”

“Yeah.”

Sternly, “then what’s the problem?”

Jimmy pipes up, “the… collaboration.”

Silas turns to look between Jimmy and Roman for a second before shaking his head. “Collaboration. Lorelei and I would get this done in a jiffy and still have time left over for ice cream. Wouldn’t we princess?” he puts his hand up for a high five and she starts beating on it, “I know that’s right.”

Roman interjects, “I thought you weren’t getting back from Boston until the seventeenth.”

As the founder of a private investment firm, Silas often finds himself flying in and out of town for business trips. The most recent one had him tied down in Boston to tour a facility the company had a keen interest in. His glued attention on Lorelei conceals the way Silas’ smile falters for a second, “yeah. Change of plans.” 

Before Roman can pry any further, Silas peels his eyes away from his granddaughter and adds to no one in particular, “you know, working under the hood in eighty degree weather with no beer is a federal crime. Good grief.”

Jey lifts his cap to run his hand up and down his mullet and places it back. “There’s some Bud Light in the fridge. Brought it for the game.”

“Is there? Well then. You boys keep working at it. I’ll go grab some for us.” He turns towards Roman, “I’ll need a hand. Come with me, son.”

The air conditioning in the house is a reprieve when they make their way inside. 

In the kitchen, Roman pulls out a couple beers and an apple juice box out the fridge. He turns and unwraps the straw from the plastic, piercing the box before taking the lollipop to free one of Lorelei’s hands and replacing it with the juice box. Silas’ voice sounds off behind him, “she starting to looks like her mama.”

Doesn’t he know it. 

She’s something of a spitting image of you. A resemblance that grows with every passing day, but for reasons unbeknownst, he sees it most when she sleeps. When it’s his day with her and he’s backing up after lying her down in her crib at night. After she’s spent the day wearing him out and getting her way. Her eyes flutter shut, and it’s the puzzle piece that reveals how apparent it is that his genes didn’t even put up a fight. 

“How is she? Capri. How are things on that fr—”

“Why’d you cut the trip so early?”

His father stares at him for a minute. He murmurs lowly, “anyone else in the house?”

A sense of guard starts to rise within Roman. His brows furrowed, he shakes his head and follows behind Silas when he turns to walk to the home office. Once inside, he places Lorelei on the floor and takes some steps back until he’s leaning against the mahogany desk.

A moment of silence is shared between the two men. Silas, suddenly, is much more somber than he was outside. 

He looks like the man Roman is familiar with.

Silas looks at the ground, his words measured. “I ran into an old friend last week in the city. This guy I golf with every now and then, an executive at Marriot. We had dinner with a couple of other people from the firm, and at dinner, he told me he heard that there’s a proposition out for a Four Seasons resort here in town. Apparently they have their eyes set on Oak Ridge as the site.”

Oak Ridge.

17 YEARS AGO.  ROMAN’S JUNIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL.

The house is eerily quiet, only the clink of his spoon making contact with the ceramic bowl of cereal and cicadas just outside the patio door piercing the veil of silence.

It’s only three A.M, but three P.M is no better around here. It’s always eerily quiet now. It has been for a while. 

Perhaps it’s why his sleep schedule is as fucked up as it is. His body can’t tell the difference. It wakes him up whenever and he just bends to it’s will.

The familiar engine of his grandfather’s truck backing into the driveway precedes the two blinding headlights that flash through the glass of the patio door. Under the impression that his dad was upstairs asleep, the tip of his brows dip into a downturn. He drops his spoon into the bowl and gets up as he hears a door shut, opening the patio door and stepping out. 

Roman squints, the night making it difficult for him to make out of what he’s seeing. Silas has the tailgate of the pickup truck flat as he tosses a variety of tools onto the trunk. “What are you doing?”

Silas whips his head around, his stomach dropping at the sight of his son. Fuck. He pauses to take a deep breath before continuing to grab the tools by the shed and tossing them into the trunk, avoiding eye contact with Roman. “Go to your room.”

One step forward and the outdoor light in tandem with the natural moonlight clarifies the piece of tarp shoved into the corner of the pickup truck’s trunk is tightly wrapped around the shape of what looks a lot like a body. Silas continues to wordlessly move, slugging a duffle bag and a shovel onto the trunk. 

Roman’s eyes dart around the silhouette in the trunk, his heart starting to gallop as he looks back at his father. “Go to my— dad. What is that? What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what I have to do. For us.” He sharply turns toward Roman, hissing at close range “He found your mothers necklace. I… I don’t know how the cops missed it. But he was about to figure it out, and I couldn’t let him. He’d be a liability, son. People like him, they become liabilities.”

The crash was an accident. 

A month ago, Emiliana had gotten the call from the hospice nurse that things weren’t looking too good and that her mother was experiencing what they like to call The Surge. Terminal lucidity. A sudden upswing of clarity from patients that look like progress on the surface but often signals that the end is closer than presumed.

It could’ve very well been her last chance to get everything off her chest. Everything she swore she was going to take to her own grave, but the fear of it weighing down the casket had become too great. Those childhood wounds took intensive therapy and plenty of those professionals advised she explore the option of coming clean to her mother about the abuse she endured under her roof, but under the hand of that man.

That wretched, reprehensible man. May he burn in hell.

She deserved to live a life of peace. A life with a regulated nervous system. She wanted to be free of her past. It was the last step. 

She’d always seen the best in her mother. The woman was just too busy to see the signs. Too busy to see the way she’d stiffen up when he’d come around. Too busy to see how uncomfortable she’d gotten wearing certain clothes in her own house. Too busy to see that she’d taken interest in quite literally any extracurricular that limited the amount of time she’d have to spend in his proximity.. 

Yet, at her bedside, her mother didn’t look like her world had been turned upside down at what she was being told. There were no indication of shock or surprise. 

Only shame. Because this wasn’t news. She wasn’t an idiot, she just had a reputation to protect. 

Her own.

What would everyone say? People in this town gossip like it pays, imagine what they’d think of their picture perfect little family if her suspicions about her new husband were true. She’d already been divorced once from Emiliana’s father, she just couldn’t go through another one. The women at the country club are piranhas. Imagine what they’d say.

The revelation ripped Emiliana’s heart out her chest.

Midnight on a backroad, the ride home was a speedy blur. While driving, she ripped the necklace her mom had given her all those years ago off her neck and mindlessly threw it out the open window mere seconds before tearing onto a T-intersection, bypassing the stop sign entirely.

The other vehicle came out of nowhere. 

In an attempt to quickly stabilize the car, the other driver overcorrected on the narrow road and slammed into a wooden post head on.

When she got out in a panic to check on the driver, the phone in her pocket was ringing. Silas was worried. She’d been gone for longer than he’d expected. But when she’d told him what had just happened in between cries, he’d sprung into action.

Once she’d told him that the woman in the other car was bleeding profusely, he’d instructed her to put her hand through the broken window to check her pulse. There was no pulse.

She fought him tooth and nail when he told her not to call the police and to get back in the car. What if she read her pulse incorrectly? She could’ve made a mistake. What if she could still be saved What if someone did this to her baby? What if someone did this to Roman? But he calmed her down. He told her she wasn’t thinking straight. She’d just gotten into an accident and she wasn’t thinking right.

That he’ll fix it. 

And so, as stricken with guilt as she was, she listened to her husband. He wasn’t going to do it, but she was right. So as she was on her way home, he’d drove to the nearest payphone and called the cops anonymously so it wouldn’t get traced. 

In the days following, she became a shell of herself. The conversation with her mother, the accident, the news of her mother’s passing. It was too much. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. 

Silas couldn’t bear to see her like that, and it infuriated him to learn of her mother’s revelation even further. She made a mistake and an innocent person lost their life, but he wasn’t going to let her spend the rest of her life paying for it. Not after everything she’d gone through. She’d suffered enough.

She’s his wife, and he’d do whatever he has to do to protect her. To protect Roman. To protect his family. 

And that’s exactly what he did. By any means necessary.

When the Sheriff, who was on first name basis with Silas and his family, came knocking door to door to see if anyone had any information on the fatal accident across the small town, Silas played the role. Knowing his wife was still too shaken and that she’d buckle under the weight of her guilt if she was questioned by the authorities, he slinked outside onto the porch and used the recent passing of Emiliana’s mother as the reason as to why she couldn’t speak to law enforcement. 

He’d rubbed shoulders and shook hands with too many people for the cops to do anything but sympathize. He played golf with the Sheriff, an official whose successful campaign Silas largely funded. Their son was the captain of the football team. He and Emiliana were respected members of the community. Too affluent. Too socially well-liked. Too prestigious. 

According to the Sheriff on the porch, skid marks on the road were indicative of the presence of another vehicle in the collision. Yet the absence of cameras on the desolate road and other tangible evidence like debris of the other vehicle made it difficult to identify the perpetrator.

It was the hallmarks of a case about to go cold.

The guilt was stretching Emiliana thin. So much so that, despite how stern her husband was when he’d told her to not come out onto the porch when they came knocking, she had her hand wrapped around the doorknob. And right as she was about to go outside and sing like a canary, the door opened itself as Silas came back inside. 

A near collision that caused a roaring argument. One that Roman would overhear as he came into the house from the backdoor. The same night he’d found out what his mother had done, and what his father was trying to.

Silas had decided that it was in the best interest of the family that Emiliana leave Key West for the time being. It was doing her no good. He’d needed to clean everything up and it was becoming clear that she’d be a problem. She was becoming unpredictable, but she’d also deserved the rest. He was doing it for her. She’d made a mistake on the worst day of her life, she didn’t deserve to rot for the rest of her life for it. He’d wanted to send her to somewhere tropical. Somewhere beautiful. So he sent her to their house in Caicos. 

But on the tarmac of the private jet before she left, she confessed to him that she’d thrown her necklace out the window before the crash near the scene of the accident. One with her name on it.

He’d went searching for it immediately. He went back to those backroads and scoured the woods they line for hours and came up empty handed. The possibility of the cops finding it and storing it as evidence was more haunting than ever, but then he happened to come across a worn pawn shop just off the road. The odds that someone had found it and pawned it were low, but he felt the urge and followed through. 

And there it lied, right under the dirty plexiglass counter. 

Once he asked the owner behind the counter how much it was going for, Wayne, he slowly sized him up. He eyed the shiny Rolex on his wrist, his clean haircut, the Benz parked out front past the window. When Silas accepted his eight hundred dollar price tag and pulled out his wallet, Wayne paused and changed it to a thousand. After a tense stare-down, he pulled out two more hundred dollar bills. But instead of accepting the cash Silas was holding out, Wayne just became suspicious.

Clearly, Silas wasn’t from this part of town. No one driving a Mercedes Benz lived around here, nor do they shop for jewelry at pawn shops. When he looked down at the necklace again, he recalled it being the one he found the week prior. Five karat pure gold with an engraving behind the pendant. 

That’s when it clicked.

Wayne slipped the necklace out the plexiglass counter and flipped the dainty pendant around to read the small cursive print, “the name Bella Camden ring a bell youngblood?”

Emiliana Isabella Anoa’i.

Previously known as Emiliana Isabella Camden.

Silas stiffened up, blinks. “Do you want the money or not?”

“Oh, I want the money. But this clearly has some sentiment behind it. I’m starting to think a thousand dollars is too much of a steal, wouldn’t you say? Besides, look at that toy you got out there. You ain’t hurting for some cash.”

Silas’ nose flared, “how much do you want?”

“Six thousand and we’ve got a deal.”

“...I’ll be back tonight.” Silas muttered before as he started making his way to the door.

Wayne’s silver tooth made an appearance when he grinned, “well well well. Would you look at that. First the cops and now a big fish. Makes you wonder what’s with all the sudden foot traffic ‘round here.” He laughed, “nine P.M. Don’t be late.”

The mention of cops sent a chill down Silas’ back. 

It felt foreboding, like Wayne knew more than he was letting on. Pawn shops run late, what if he witnessed the accident? What if he heard the collision and came outside, and that’s how he found the necklace? He’s clearly money hungry. Who’s to say this ends after he gets his six thousand? Especially with information that he could hang over Silas’ head. 

This… this won’t work.

So he went back to the pawn shop a couple hours ago with a gun tucked in his waist and blew a hole in his chest.

Roman follows his dad to the drivers side door after Silas slams the trunk shut and hops inside the car, “where are you taking him?”

“Oak Ridge.” 

Roman had always respected his father, but the night he’d watched him leave to bury Wayne was something of an indoctrination. Sometimes you have to do fucked up shit for the greater good, especially for the ones you love.

Silas drawls, “the resort is being built by Prescott Properties, apparently. They haven’t bought the land yet, so it’s still in the early stages. Nelson said something about struggles with funding. I imagine that has something to do with it.”

Shit. 

If they start construction on the site, it’s only so long until they find Wayne’s body and that pandora’s box get reopened. Hell, the cops already found it odd that two crimes occurred in the same vicinity so close to one another back then. It’s just a matter of time. 

Roman exhales tightly and scratches at his beard. He diverts his eyes off the floor and back at his father, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m gonna throw my hat in the ring.”

Roman squints. “The firm would never sign off on real estate.”

He nods, “I know. That’s why the firm won’t be the one investing. I would. Personally. Outside the firm to… diversify my portfolio.” He grabs the edge of the desk, “the Prescotts are hosting Solstice this year. It’s the perfect opportunity to make a bid. If I put enough money up, I steer the boat. Far, far away from Oak Ridge.”

Roman nods. That makes sense. If they’re having issues with funding the resort and Silas becomes a major investor, he’ll get a say on the site of the project. Solstice is also tomorrow night, which must be why he decided to come back today. He’ll need help, though. Roman couldn’t help before, but he can help now. “What do you need me to do?”

“To stay out of the way. I don’t want you anywhere near it, hear me? I only told you this because I knew you’d piece it together once you heard about it and found out mom is leaving town again. If this goes left, your involvement will only bring even more eyes than it already will and we don’t need that.”

“What are you talking about? You’re my father. If this goes left, it doesn’t matter if I’m involved or not, there will already be even more eyes on it.”

“Look at her. Is this something you’re willing to lose?” Silas points to Lorelei. Roman looks down at her, and she’s sitting on the rug, playing with her baby deer. “She needs her father. Nobody or nothing needs you like she does. Don’t forget it.”

.

It’s a navy blue morning on the pier.

With your hands clasped over the wooden railing, you’re watching the pale sun tip toe past the horizon when you hear the familiar cadence of flip flops smacking against the long boardwalk nearing with every step.

“Remember a couple months after I first moved here? When I told Yvette that I was craving fries and mumbo sauce because it reminded me of home.” 

Namina chuckles as she stands beside you, “and we tried to make it at home. What’d the recipe say? Ketchup and orange juice?”

A faint smile blooms on your face as the memory plays in the eye of your mind; a vignette of you holding the pan like you weren’t only a little bit taller than the stove was. You and Namina shrieking as the simmering sauce you were trying to imitate splattered onto the wall right next to the stove, giggling to each other as aunt Yvette would groan Jesus be a fence all the way from the living room sofa and yell at you two to use the damn pan lid.

“Pineapple juice.”

She makes a face. “That shit was nasty Pri.”

“Because we didn’t make it right! There were more ingredients.”

She turns with her back to the railing and hops to sit on it, “well. Let’s leave it to the DC Chinese takeout joints. I’m not trying that again.” At her elevated angle, she sees the envelope in your hand. “What’s that?”

Your smile fades, “a postcard. From Barbados.”

It was addressed to the shop and shoved underneath the front door when you came across it during your shift, opening it like it was any other piece of mail and only freezing when you slipped it out of the envelope to reveal a stiff card with an illustrated backdrop of the tropics underneath large print that reads greetings from Barbados.

You put the card back into the white sleeve was like you were diffusing a bomb. Under no circumstance did you want to accidentally flip it around and read anything she had to say to you. 

You’re dealing with enough bullshit as it is. You really don’t need any more on your plate.

Namina’s eyes flit between the envelope and your side profile at least three times, hesitating on whether or not she should freely speak her mind as is second nature or if the recency of the little tiff you two had gotten into deemed it too fresh to be breached.

When you told her about Mia’s visit at the shack during an ocean-side brunch, pure disbelief initially barred her from taking you at your word. Yet, with every following moment after the drop of that bomb into her lap, it became crystal clear that you were being honest. 

She loves you down to your bones. Your happiness matters to her just as much as her own. You are the last family she has left and her mother’s dying wish for you two to take care of one another is one she intends to uphold.

But, whether it’s your intention or not, you’ve been much too lenient with that woman and she needed you to hear it. In fact, you should’ve stopped being so lenient a very long time ago. Preferably right after what happened in Italy instead of your decision to hold your tongue. All this grace you lead with in an effort to preserve your own peace is a double edged sword— it grants you that peace but it’s always temporary and it’s entirely because grace in the hands of someone like Mia is a gift that keeps on giving. It gets taken advantage of, and eventually you land yourself in a situation much like the one you’re in right now.

How much water can you fit under the bridge before it overflows?

Regardless of how she feels about Roman, ending the relationship is a call that belongs to you and him, and you and him only. Point blank. Never should it belong to the vermin that’s been slithering her way through the grass since the very beginning.

It’s for that reason only that she thinks you did the wrong thing.

Time and time again, Mia has shown that she will do whatever it takes to be with that man. Sure, she says she’ll leak the tape if you don’t exit the picture once and for all, but in doing so, she stands to lose something too. Roman.

On what planet would the world’s most possessive man react well to such an intimate video of you being seen by millions of eyes at her doing? 

And that was the stem of the disagreement, because the way you see it, she has shown you that she’ll do whatever it takes to be with him and every situation has been an escalation from the former. In fact, he’s well aware it as well. Yet, what did he do after you broke up with him despite knowing what her and Anastasia’s motives were behind sending you abroad? He started seeing her.

You are undoubtably the center of his world until you leave him, and then the gloves come off. He treats it like you can’t hold what he does when you aren’t together against him, but you hold it against him.

What both of you could agree on is the fact that this time is different than the others.

There is a tape on the line. One that could not only ruin your reputation on this tiny island you’ve spent your years building a life on, but more importantly, ruin the life of your daughter if you aren’t cautious— so you’re not being anything but.

Still, despite your doubt, the entire existence of the video in the first place is why Namina knows for a fact that any chance Mia would have with Roman would be dust if that video recording she has ever saw the light of day. A failed attempt at sleeping with him in Italy isn’t equivalent to her leaking you and his’ sex tape. It’s apples and oranges.

But she knows you, and she knows the reason you’re being so cautious pertaining this entire ordeal is because of the woman behind the postcard in your hand. 

The wound your mother left was insurmountable. When you were younger and, for reasons unbeknownst, more willing to acknowledge her existence than you are these days, you once told Namina that you felt like she and your father loved each other more than they did you. That if they knew that he was going to die as suddenly as he did, they probably would’ve committed some sort of suicide pact beforehand and left you to find their bodies the morning after. 

They always made you feel like an afterthought as a child, and it was just reinforced after your dad died and your mom left you with Yvette without sparing you another glance. She knows those are wounds you don’t want to give Lorelei.

Perhaps if shit was different, shit would be different. 

And maybe that’s what you truly see in Roman. Perhaps in your eyes, that’s one of his redeemable qualities; the fact that despite his transgressions, he can’t seem to leave you alone, and it’s more than your mother could ever say.

Namina rolls her lips into her mouth, squinting as a gust of wind blows a tendril of hair onto her eyelash. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

You scoff and take the postcard out of the envelope, your eyes tracing the illustration on the back one last time before tossing it onto the surface of water without a second glance.

.

Roman’s eyes shut at the exact moment the line cuts, his nose flaring as he curses and shoves his phone into his pocket. Below the moonlight of South Bay Country Club’s front patio, his feet carries him in a restless pace back and forth— the humidity underneath his formal button up pushing a layer of sweat against the surface of his skin. 

He’d ran much more than just a little late tonight.

So much so that, by the time he got here twenty-five minutes ago, his father was long gone. 

Despite Silas’ stern warning to keep his distance, he wanted to be present tonight. Solstice is a benign social gathering of Key West’s elites. He’s been dragged by his collar by he and his mother to these every year since he learned to walk. Who the fuck would ever bat an eye?

When he’d realized that Silas truly wasn’t here and not just making his rounds, shaking hands and making small talk with the attendees, he snuck away from the crowd and made his way to the front patio to call him. He found out, due to the existence of an exclusivity agreement between the lead investor already tied to the resort and Prescott Projects, Derek Prescott had denied Silas’ offer to invest into the resort. Apparently, the strategic agreement gave the lead investor first dibs on providing the funds for the project under the circumstance that it call for it, all in the name of preventing the dilution of their ownership stake by hindering the introduction of competitors— much like a noncompete clause. 

According to Derek, although they were low, to protect their ownership, the lead investor had decided to put more money up to make up for the difference. Silas’ investment wouldn’t only be a breach of Derek and his investor’s contract, it was also no longer necessary.

They would be moving forward as planned.

His palm rests at the nape of his tense neck as he stares at the ground. As clear as the writing on the wall may be, Roman has never been a defeatist. They’re not fucked. They’re not. They’re going to fix it. It’ll be fine. As he’s imagining up ways to get his dad out of the jam he’s in, the squeaky hinges of the country club entrance draw his attention.

Past the threshold at the pinnacle of the short staircase in the dead of night, is you. 

In grey cotton capri’s with the matching compact long sleeve top, a rolled up baby pink mat lies tucked underneath your arm. Your curls tossed in a hasty updo, away from the sweat glazing your face.

“Pri?”

You pause your trek down the stairs for a second when your eyes land on him. You state more matter-of-fact than curiosity as you meet ground level, “Roman.”

He sizes you up from head to toe and looks back up behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“Hot yoga. They just started offering night classes here. I’ve always wanted to join but I work during the day, so.” You decide to add, “Lorelei’s with Namina… unless you’re talking about me still using your membership card, then—”

He shakes his head, his heart rate lulling. “Nah, it’s… nah. You know it’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

You jut out your bottom lip in acknowledgement and nod before veering your glare anywhere but his, because he’s giving you that look. It’s earnest and it’s true and it’s intense enough to melt steel beams. You’ve know it very well.

But you don’t bend to it’s will. Because as much as you love him with every fiber of your being, with every passing day you find yourself directing more and more of your outrage at the impossible situation you’re in at him. None of this would have transpired if it wasn’t for him and his decision to bring Mia into the picture in the first place. None of it.

“Baby.”

Both you and him turn to the door. Mia stands in a baby blue satin dress, intricate white lace embroidered on the v-neck and leg slit of the fabric. She pauses when she spots you, her smile faltering. Suddenly more interested in what’s going on out here than in the back of the country club, she steps farther out onto the front patio. “Capri… I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Just here for a class.” You force out.

Her eyes land on the mat under your arm. “Oh. You know, we should take a class together here one of these days. I’ve been looking for a partner for the longest. You got my package didn’t you? Those sets are perfect for yoga.”

Incapable of faking it, you huff out a barely discernible breath of disbelief at her gall through your nose and turn back around as the phone in your hand pings. As you’re reading the message from Namina, your vision randomly gets spotty and you suddenly become light-headed, your hand shooting out to hook around the stair railing.

Roman’s in front of you in two swift steps, his thick brows drooping over his eyes as he grabs your other arm to hold you and lowers you to a squat on the brick step of the porch. “Woah woah woah. Sit down. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just got a little light headed. I haven’t ate much today, that’s a—”

“Why the fuck are you doing hot yoga on an empty stomach? The hell’s the matter with you?” he’s on autopilot, his voice adopting the same tone he uses to scold Lorelei when he finds her playing in shit she has no business in. His eyes dart up to Mia on top of the stairs, “go into the ballroom and get a water and something off the table.”

Mia frowns, her eyes darting between the two of you. 

You shake your head, the palm of your extended arm flat out in front of you and towards him in protest of all that. It won’t be necessary. More than anything, your light meals have something to do with the fact that you haven’t been able to keep anything down recently. It’s been unforgiving. Neither one of your pregnancies were quite like this one. As crucial as it’s has been in helping you unwind, yoga on such a light stomach, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea. You’re sure that’s all it is. “It’s not that—”

Roman blinks at a still Mia, “now.”

That seems to shake her out of it. In a matter of minutes, she returns with a cold bottled water and a BLT and hands it to Roman, who hands it to you. You take it from his hands and rise to your feet, “I’ll eat it in the car. I need to go.”

He makes a face, “like hell you are. Sit down.”

Your stomach drops. If you take a bite of this sandwich right now, you’ll probably immediately puke in the bushes to your left and he’ll look at you for five seconds before figuring out exactly what’s up with you. “I won’t leave the lot until I finish it, but I need to get home. Namina just texted me. I left the teddy Lorelei sleeps with is in the car. She’s probably giving her hell.” You lie through your teeth. Namina asked you where you left the wine opener, but you know how to use being a mother to get you out of situations you don’t want to be in from time to time.

You take his silent stare for compliance and grab your mat off the floor. As you rise to your feet and turn before making your way down the pavement leading to the parking lot, you catch Mia’s eye. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, her arms crossed.

When you’re a distance away, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and turns to Mia.

“Really?” she murmurs.

“What?”

“Go into the ballroom and get a water and something off the table.” She repeats.

Roman squints, “she was feeling faint, Mia.”

Coming out here to find you two alone was already irritating enough, but for him to ask her to grab something for you? She didn’t like how that made her feel at all. “I understand that. I wouldn’t have an issue helping if we didn’t have the history we do. But having me run behind the woman you’ve made me feel second to for so long? how do you think that makes me feel, Roman? Your girlfriend.”

He’s unamused. “Don’t start that shit. I was thinking on my feet and you were standing right there.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m telling you how you’re making me f—”

His words are slow. Measured. “I told you to grab her something because she got light-headed before she got on the road. She’s the mother of my child. You want me to hang her out to dry? That’s the type of man you need me to be for you? You want me to duck and dodge my responsibilities?”

Fire heats her chest at the reminder of what tending to his responsibilities looks like to him. How the last time he was tending to his responsibilities, it resulted in her losing her appetite for two weeks. “Lorelei is your responsibility, not Capri.”

He’s firm. His eyes hard. There’s no room for question, “there is no Lorelei without Capri and that was never debatable. You know what you signed up for.”

That, she does. Still, it doesn’t make these moments any less painful. Particularly because she expects things to change when certain things change. “I know that. Why do you think I do things like send her shit from the brand and invite her to yoga classes with me? And you just saw how she reacted. So to tell me to run behind her right after she basically laughed at the suggestion? That’s crossing a line.”

He sighs. Between his father’s issue and now this, he’s exhausted. He sees where she’s coming from but at the same time, he could never hold your aversion to accepting her olive branch against you. He just mainly attributes it to Italy, which she doesn’t know you and he know about.

“Then maybe this won’t work. However you feel about her doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s not going anywhere. If you’re going to react out of insecurity over the smallest shit every time, then it’s not gonna work. And frankly, why would I want to be with someone who finds helping the mother of my child with something so minimal as this big of a burden? She’s never done anything to you. In fact, what would’ve happened if I wasn’t here?”

She blinks rapidly and reaches out to grab his hand, “don’t say that. I’m not trying to… I do know what I signed up for. That just… I don’t know. I’m s—”

He pulls his hand away, “answer the question.”

“What question?”

“What would’ve happened if I wasn’t here?”

Her eyes dart around his face, “obviously I would’ve helped. It just would be on my own volition instead of yours.”

He squints, “that’s not what you said. You said you ‘wouldn’t have an issue helping if we didn’t have the history that we do.’”

“Roman. I would help. I would. It’s just your role in it that makes it different.”

He looks her in her eyes for a long moment inquisitively, his brows furrowed. “You know how important they are to me, right? Both of them.”

“Of course.”