This Time, Stay

The first thing I noticed when we returned was that the nursery shelf had been fixed.

The second was that Roman didn't mention it.

He carried the bags upstairs while I held Sophie. She was seven months old now, interested in everything and offended whenever an object was placed beyond her reach.

Roman had prepared the guest room beside the nursery. My favorite pillow was on the bed. The closet was empty enough for me to use without moving his things.

"I put the bottle supplies downstairs," he said. "Unless you'd rather have them up here."

"Downstairs is fine."

He nodded, then remained in the doorway.

"Roman, you can come in."

"I know."

"You look like you're waiting for an inspection."

"I am."

I laughed. Sophie immediately looked offended that she hadn't caused it.

He smiled at her, then at me.

Dinner was simple. No relatives summoned to make the house feel welcoming. No staff lingering to observe our return. He'd ordered food from the Italian place I liked and put it on actual plates, although the containers in the trash betrayed him.

"Did you cook?" I asked.

"I arranged dinner."

"Very carefully phrased."

"I've become cautious around women who read documents for a living."

After we put Sophie down, we sat in the kitchen. I told him about an irritating meeting at work. He told me Nico had bought a boat without telling Elena and was now pretending it belonged to a business partner.

"How long do you think that'll last?"

"Until she looks out the window. It's in their driveway."

I laughed hard enough that Roman started laughing too.

The sound filled the room strangely. I had spent months remembering our arguments. I'd forgotten how easy we could be together when neither of us was hiding something.

At the guest-room door, he stopped a few feet from me.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

His eyes went to my mouth. Mine went to his.

He turned before either of us moved.

At two in the morning, Sophie woke. I was still gathering myself when Roman knocked softly and asked whether he could take her.

I let him.

When I went downstairs twenty minutes later, he was walking slowly through the kitchen, murmuring to her in Italian. A bottle sat ready on the counter. His hair was a mess, his T-shirt damp beneath her cheek.

"Go back to bed," he whispered.

"I wanted to see whether you needed anything."

"A better singing voice. She has complaints."

Sophie made a protesting sound.

"See?"

I touched her foot. Then, without thinking, I straightened the twisted collar of his shirt.

His gaze lifted to mine.

I left my hand there for a second before lowering it.

"I'll be upstairs," I said.

"I know. Sleep."

I did. When I woke, sunlight was coming through the curtains.

For several seconds, I lay still, listening to Roman speak to our daughter in the next room. There was no emergency in his voice. No impatience. Just the ordinary effort of someone who had taken his turn.

I went downstairs feeling almost happy.

His phone rang during breakfast.

He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stepped into the hallway. I kept feeding Sophie mashed fruit while his voice became the one he used outside our home.

When he returned, I knew before he spoke.

"The meeting tomorrow has moved," he said. "They want me there this afternoon."

I put down the spoon.

"Where?"

"Chicago. A property sale. The buyer is leaving tonight."

"You knew there might be a change?"

"They mentioned it yesterday. I told them I wasn't available."

"And now?"

He looked at me, then at Sophie.

"Now they're saying they won't wait."

I nodded. Got up. Picked up the empty bowls.

"Jenna can collect us early. I'll call her."

"Erin."

"It's all right. We'll go before lunch."

I meant that I could manage. I wasn't granting permission or testing him. I simply knew how to rearrange a day when he disappeared from it.

He followed me to the sink.

"You haven't asked me to stay."

I kept my eyes on the bowl.

"I asked you before."

He stood behind me without touching me.

Then he returned to the table and picked up his phone.

I heard him tell his attorney he wasn't coming. They discussed options. Nico could attend with limited authority. The buyer might refuse. There was a substantial deposit at risk, and another arrangement would be more expensive.

Roman listened, then repeated that he wouldn't be there.

When he ended the call, I turned.

"I don't want you making a disastrous business decision just to prove something."

"It isn't disastrous. It's costly. Those aren't the same."

"You'll be angry about it later."

"Possibly. With the buyer."

He picked up Sophie's dropped spoon.

"I committed this weekend to being here. I'm handling the change. You don't need to reward me for it."

I watched him rinse the spoon and sit down beside our daughter.

He still took calls that afternoon. I heard enough to know the problem didn't vanish because he'd stayed. He worked during Sophie's nap, returned when she woke, and didn't make us listen to the cost.

Later, we walked in the garden with the stroller. I touched his sleeve to slow him beside a flowering shrub.

He stopped instantly.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to stand here."

His hand covered mine.

We stood until Sophie became impatient with flowers.

On Sunday evening, I packed the bags. Roman carried them down without asking whether I could leave some clothes behind.

I paused at the door.

He waited, looking at me with an effort at composure that made my heart ache.

I stepped closer and kissed him.

His breath caught. His hands rose to my waist, gentle but unmistakably eager. For one moment, I let myself remember the shape of him.

Then I drew back.

"I'm still going tonight."

He lowered his hands.

"I know."

Outside, Jenna waited beside the car.

Roman opened the door for me, then leaned down just enough that only I could hear him.

"Can I invite you again?"

"Yes," I said. "You can."