Soulmates & Twin Flames

6 - No Expectations

I chuckle and shake my head. "You have that I know better look in your eyes."

"Because I do." His voice tingles with amusement.

"I'm sure you do." I say, unable to stop my heart from racing when his eyes turn amber.

"How old am I?"

My gaze lingers on the subtle whites behind his ears and the deep lines on his forehead. "Thirty...five?"

"Thirty-two."

The waiter serves our small, artsy dishes on golden plates, pours us some white wine, then leaves. Roman raises his glass and smiles as we sip our drinks.

"I don't think you are a journalism graduate..." I speculate. "Econ or BA."

He nods again. "Business administration. The plan was to run Dad's estate empire with him, but he passed away when I was still in Harvard."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Mom thought it would be easier to cash out. She only kept her house and my grandparents' estate upstate. Sold everything else," he says bitterly.

"Is that what you'd rather do? Real estate?"

"Maybe. But the magazine is my life now," he says. Then he presses his lips into a tight line and looks out at the city lights.

"That's still family business, though, right?" I ask, picking up an oyster and swallowing it in one big gulp. Its saltiness makes me scrunch my nose. How do people eat this shit? I put down the empty shell and sip some wine to clear my pallet. "At least you still have a piece of what your Dad had started—"

"It's unfair how history will remember who found the magazine and forget about who carried it to glory, though." Roman sighs and pours some pink sauce on the oysters with a silver spoon.

I reach for his hand. "You're angry at him."

"Of course I am," he spits, pulling away from my touch. "The magazine meant nothing to him. It was a game...a minor investment to keep his kids out of the way while he ran his empire. I was fifteen when I attended my first board meeting on his behalf—that's how much Dad cared for it. He was never there. Too busy to see his kids grow..." He tosses the spoon on his plate, then points at his chest. "I spread Optimus Maximus around the US like wildfire. I'm the one who gathered partners and sponsors. I'm the one history should remember."

His clenched jaw and tensed shoulders ache my heart. "You were under his shadow all your life," I whisper.

Roman chugs his wine. His anger is mine, and it burns my chest.

I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "They say I'm more like my mom. She was the fun, outgoing one—a waitress and, later, a stay-at-home mom," I say softly. "When she passed, Dad buried himself into chemistry, anatomy and his never-ending formulas. He turned down some great offers to stay in Philadelphia, but he was never home." I catch Roman's gaze and force a smile. "I don't remember much about Mom, but I don't have any childhood memories of my dad, either."

"You grew up under his shadow," Roman says.

"Yeah." My smile turns sour. "The average daughter of a genius...a Nobel Prize winner."

Roman reaches for my hand. The wind brushes my fingers as he lifts my wrist and presses his lips onto my palm. His kiss knocks my insides. My heart flutters. My breath hitches.

"You are not average," he says, kissing my hand.

"Roman..." I whisper, and he lets out a chesty groan. I'm shaking.