Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)



I couldn’t believe my eyes. As I approached Lorenzo’s restaurant, planning to make this short and sweet, I immediately spotted my momma outside on the terrace. Sitting next to her was Mrs. Blair and friggin’ Shelly on the opposite side, all three of them smiling and laughing—the perfect high society image.

It quickly became apparent that I’d been set up. So, turning slowly, I moved to walk away when I heard, “Rome, where are you going? We’re right here!” Taking a deep breath, I turned around to see my momma on her feet, Shelly and Mrs. Blair smiling brightly my way.

Keep calm. Play it cool. Get through it, I told myself as I took a second deep, relaxing breath. I didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to make my momma suspicious.

Waving my hand in acknowledgement, I entered the restaurant, freezing when my momma kissed my cheek for show, Shelly and Mrs. Blair following suit. My momma lived the perfect double life: the quintessential society lady on the outside, fucking nightmare on the inside.

“Here’s the jersey you asked for,” I said, handing it over.

“Perfect! Have a seat,” she instructed, gesturing toward the spare chair next to Shel.

Biting my tongue, I reluctantly sat down, playing along, saying, “Didn’t realize everyone would be here. Thought I was just dropping that off.” I pointed to the jersey, my voice perfectly monotone, not betraying my anger.

My momma leaned forward, eyes tight. “Well, we had an interesting call from Shelly here yesterday. She told us that you made quite the announcement at school. Something about some British transfer you’ve become… a little enamored with?”

I detected the anger, the threat in her voice, and her blue eyes never moved from mine. My heart thumped in my chest, so hard I felt like it was slamming against my ribcage. She knew about Molly, but I’d be damned if I showed that I was bothered. I had to protect her. I needed to throw my momma off the scent.

“Well?” Mrs. Blair pushed, Shelly leaning on the table to hear my response.

Shrugging, I said dismissively, “Yeah, I’ve been seeing her, casually, but it’s not anything serious. You know me. I’m not the monogamous type. She just proved a good distraction for a while. We’re done now.”

Shelly put her hand on my thigh in excitement. “You mean all this time you’ve been messing with her? Oh my God, Rome, that’s hilarious. The way that girl looks at you, she’s obviously in love! She’ll be devastated when you end it.”

Shelly couldn’t help but laugh, and I wanted to kick her off her chair. Her words, however, circled in my mind—the way that girl looks at you, she’s obviously in love. Was she? Was Mol in love with me?

“That had better be the case, Rome. And all these girls, it needs to stop. Shelly should be your only focus now. You’ve fooled around long enough, but it’s time to grow up, time to act responsibly.”

I stayed silent. I wasn’t going to get into a conversation with these three vultures about this friggin’ ridiculous marriage. My momma would know where I stood on the whole damn farce. I’m sure my daddy would have said something, and I wasn’t going to air all that shit out here on this friggin’ terrace, in public.

Shelly moved in closer, and I could tell by the look on her face that she’d believed everything I’d just said. It was the only time I was thankful that I’d whored around in my past; my dismissal of Molly was believable ‘Bullet’ behaviour.

As Shelly placed her hand around my waist, that suffocating feeling crept up my throat, but I had to pretend not to be bothered, even though I felt like overturning the table before me.

Mrs. Blair went on to ask me about football and I gave her some routine answer about wins, practice, and championships. Shelly giggled beside me at fuck knows what and then laid her hand across my chest, planting a damn kiss on my cheek. My jaw clenched at the action, my hands curled into fists. When I looked up, my momma was watching me like a hawk, scowling.

She was on to me. Nothing much got past her and I could practically see the cogs whirring in her head.

“Well, hey, guys! Fancy seeing you here!”

My attention snapped to the side of the restaurant. Ally was standing on the sidewalk, beyond the white fence, arms crossed and glaring at Shelly practically dry-humping my leg.

“Aliyana, always a pleasure,” my momma greeted coldly.

“Aunt Kathryn, lovely to see you too,” she repeated with equal disdain.