Are You Pregnant, Sis?

Chapter 8: Are You Pregnant, Sis?

Lizzie stood frozen in the doorway, holding a stack of fresh towels and a small glass bowl in her hand.

Roman blinked. “Are those—”

“Goldfish.” I completed.

“I—I just came to drop off these fresh towels and...uh...” She lifted the bag. “Alyssa said this fishes need emotional support, and she thinks Roman has a ‘gentle aura.’” Her voice cracked on the last word as she blinked at the scene—me straddling Roman like a throne, hoodie rucked up, Roman shirtless and smug beneath me.

“I’ll just…leave it on the dresser. You guys…carry on. Or not. Or do. Who am I to judge? Goldie says hi.” She rambled.

There was a pause.

“Lizzie?” I arched a brow as a smirk formed on my lips.

“Oh. Oh no. I didn’t see anything. Carry on. Act like I wasn’t here,” Lizzie said, waving her hands dramatically as she backed up.

“Lizzie, we—” I began, scrambling off Roman.

“Nope. Nope. Doesn’t matter. I can’t even see. I don’t have my glasses on.”

She squinted comically into the room, then did a fake fumble along the doorframe like she was blind, feeling the wall like she was searching for her way out.

“You literally walked in here, Lizzie,” Roman pointed out dryly.

“Details!” she snapped, pretending to trip over her own feet. “Just two sexy shadows wrestling. Could be yoga. Could be crime. Who’s to say?”

She finally found the door, turned around dramatically like she was storming out of a telenovela scene, and declared, “Tell Chloe her cousin walked in on live amateur p**n. Also, you’re both super hot. Even a blind girl can tell!”

She slammed the door shut behind her.

I stared at it. “Did my cousin just bring a fish as an emotional support offering from my sister?”

Roman nodded solemnly, eyes still on me. “While I was being ridden like a mechanical bull for educational purposes.”

I burst into laughter and collapsed onto his chest. “God, I hate my family. They’re absolute maniacs.”

He grinned and stroked a hand down my back. “Remind me to get them all something for Christmas. Preferably therapy.”

“Dinner's ready! Savannah! Roman! Get your ass downstairs!” Chloe yelled at the top of her lungs.

I slid off Roman slowly.

“I'm gonna need a moment.” Roman groaned, rolling to his side.

“I'll wait for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The dining room glowed with warm light and smelled like rosemary chicken, wine, and drama. The table was long, polished and made of cherrywood.

Chloe had set the table herself—peonies in a white ceramic vase, her monogrammed napkin rings, and a curated seating chart that mysteriously landed Dean across from me and Roman. Strategic, as always.

My mother raised a glass.

“To Chloe and Dean,” she said. “A perfect match.”

I forced a smile and clinked.

Roman’s wine stayed untouched.

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “How long do I have to keep pretending I don’t want to throw him through that bay window?”

I smirked. “At least until dessert.”

I sat next to Roman. Of course.

My parents sat across from us. Aunt Janice down the table. Alyssa by Roman's right.

And by my left? Him.

Looking way too comfortable in a collared shirt, like he hadn’t ripped my heart out two years ago and handed it to my sister in a Tiffany-blue box.

Chloe's previous ring had been exchanged with a bigger one with a bigger pink stone and now she couldn't stop tucking her hair behind her ear every three seconds.

She smiled so bright during dinner that I contemplated stabbing her with my fork just to get another reaction from that face of hers.

Roman’s hand found mine under the table, lacing our fingers casually.

“So,” Chloe began, swirling her wine, “how long have you two been together?”

I opened my mouth, but Roman beat me to it.

“Three years. We've known each other for five years but we've been a couple for three years.”

Chloe’s brow twitched. “Oh. That long?”

Roman nodded. “She played hard to get. But once she kissed me, that was it. I was done for.”

Dean’s jaw flexed.

That’s strange,” Chloe said with a little tilt of her head. “Because when I called Savannah on her birthday last year, she didn’t mention a boyfriend. Let alone a fiancé.”

“Maybe I wasn’t worth mentioning,” Roman said, all silk and thorns.

I grinned. “No, he was just too good to share. You remember what happened the last time I introduced you to my boyfriend, Chlo?”

Dean's fork clinked against his plate.

I smiled, “Yeah, I think we all remember.”

Roman’s hand slipped under the table again and settled on my thigh. Warm. Possessive. Dangerous.

I didn’t dare look at him.

“You’re in finance, right?” my mom asked, smiling politely.

“Yes, ma’am. Mergers and acquisitions,” Roman said, charm turned up to ten. “But Savannah’s the impressive one.”

I blinked. “I—I am?”

“She basically runs her department,” Roman said. “Smartest person in the room. Most days I just try to keep up.”

Aunt Thelma made a mmhmm sound.

Dean spoke, voice casual. “I remember you always liked numbers, Sav.”

I didn’t look at him. “I remember you always liked secrets.”

Chloe coughed.

Roman’s thumb stroked my thigh under the table. It was subtle. Comforting. Possessive.

“So when’s the big day?” Lizzie asked. “You both seem pretty eager for the part that comes after the wedding.”

Alyssa snorted.

Roman smiled, then turned to me.

“Well?” he murmured. “You want to tell them, love?”

I grinned, realizing he was letting me steer the ship this time.

“Next spring,” I said quickly. “Small wedding. Beachside. Just us and the people we love.”

Dean looked like he swallowed a lemon.

“Will Dean and I get an invite?” Chloe asked sweetly.

I smiled wide. “Oh honey. If we start inviting exes, we’ll need a whole other venue.”

The table gasped-laughed.

Roman leaned in and kissed my temple like I was the most intoxicating woman in the room.

“I love when you’re petty,” he whispered into my hair.

“So how did you two meet?” Dean asked, voice casual. Too casual.

Roman raised a brow. “At a business meeting.”

“She’s still at that firm?” Dean said, turning to me. “Thought you once wanted to quit.”

“Thought you once wanted to marry me,” I snapped.

The table froze.

I lifted my wine. “Guess we both settled.”

Dean opened his mouth—but Roman cut in, calm and lethal:

“She could’ve had anyone. She chose me. Lucky me.”

Dean leaned back. “Right. Because this is real.”

“What’s not real about it?” Roman asked, smiling coldly. “I’m here. She’s mine. You’re invited to the wedding—though we’ll understand if you’re too busy to attend.”

Chloe’s fork scraped across her plate.

“We’re so happy,” she said through clenched teeth. “Aren’t we, Dean?”

Dean didn’t answer.

“I did a lazy search, son. You were featured in Forbes?” Dad asked while casually asking me to pass the cherry tomatoes.

“Twice,” Roman said, not bothering to look humble. “But who's counting?”

Dean stabbed his steak like it owed him money.

“You brought the Aston Martin Vantage?” my father was saying, eyes gleaming. “I’ve always said, you can tell a man’s character by the car he drives.”

“Oh God,” I muttered.

Roman adjusted his cuffs before speaking, calm and deliberate, “It was either that or the Mercedes-AMG GT Coupe.”

I glanced at Chloe and she was gripping her fork so tight it looked like it'd snap in two.

Dad's face lit up like a proud father watching his son. “I like this man, Savannah. This is the first time you've made me proud.”

Dean clenched his jaw as Chloe leaned in and whispered something to him. His hand was still twirling the wine glass leisurely, eyes set on me.

Chloe pulled apart with a smile while Dean's calculative eyes fell on me. His lips were pursed into a tight, thin line while he crossed his arms, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh.

“Sav, everything seems a little too fast-paced.” Chloe began, “So we were all kind of wondering, are you pregnant, sis?”