Always Together

Always Together
Chapter 284: Always Together 

Savannah 

Marriage? 

The word didn’t just surprise me, it landed like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through every thought I had.

For a moment, I simply stared at him, certain I must have misheard. “Married?” I echoed, breath catching. “Like… right now? You want us to get married right now?”

Roman’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his resolve sharpened.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Don’t you want to marry me?”

My heart lurched. Panic flared, not at the idea of marrying him, never that, but at the urgency behind it. “No!” I blurted quickly, shaking my head. “It’s not that. Of course I want to marry you. You know I do.”

Relief flickered across his face. His hand rose instinctively, warm palm cradling my cheek, thumb brushing softly along my skin as if grounding himself.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then there’s no problem.”

But there was.

I blinked, trying to organize the whirlwind inside my head. “But I thought we agreed…” I said carefully. “After the baby comes. That was the plan. We wait, we do it properly, we celebrate it in a grand way.”

His jaw tightened. I could almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes—fast, restless, troubled.

“I remember,” he said. “I remember everything we planned. But this…” His grip tightened around my hand. “This feels like the right moment, Sav. We don’t have to make it big. We can do something simple. Just us. Then later, when everything settles and our baby arrives, we'll have the wedding we talked about. Something big. Something grand.”

His gaze searched mine, intense and wide. “What do you think?”

I studied him quietly.

It wasn’t the request that unsettled me. It was the urgency. The tension beneath his voice. The way he looked like a man trying to outrun something unseen.

This wasn’t romance. This was protection. And fear. Colliding together and mixing up dangerously. 

It wasn't like I didn't want to marry my best friend. Heck, there's nothing I want more in this world than to marry Roman and have his children. I would even marry him right now if he asked me to. But this was… spontaneous. Way too spontaneous. 

I swallowed slowly. “I want to marry you,” I said honestly. “You know I do. There’s nothing in this world I want more.”

His fingers tightened slightly, as if he’d been bracing for refusal.

“But,” I continued gently, “this is sudden. Too sudden. And I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

His gaze dropped immediately. And that told me everything.

I lifted my hand and touched his cheek, guiding his face back toward mine. “Hey. Are you mad at me?” I whispered. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? Did I say something—”

“My father called you my girlfriend.” The words fell out of his mouth. 

I blinked. “I… didn’t even notice,” I admitted quietly.

Roman’s jaw flexed. “I did,” he said. “He chose that word deliberately. He wanted to diminish what you are to me.”

His voice was calm, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.

“I wanted to break his throat for it.”

I didn’t interrupt. I let him speak.

“There’s more,” he continued, gaze darkening. “My brothers.”

A cold understanding crept into my chest.

“I don’t trust them around you,” he said bluntly. “I can’t prove anything. I can’t accuse anyone. But waking up and finding you here… alone… with them…” His voice lowered. “It didn’t sit right with me.”

My throat tightened.

I knew where this fear came from. It wasn’t jealousy in its simplest form. It was memory. Trauma. The ghosts of what had happened before.

He looked almost frustrated with himself.

I know where this stemmed from. I should have known that this was the reason why he'd been very quick to lose his temper with Reese. 

Dahlia. That woman again. Somehow, it looked like I'll never be rid of her. 

Maybe a part of Roman was still paranoid or scared that Reese and I would get so close that I'd maybe magically fall in love with him. Or fall into bed with him. 

I swallowed. “Roman, if it's about Reese, there's nothing— absolutely nothing— like that going on between us—” 

He cut me off. 

“Baby, it's not just about Reese.” He began. “I admit I'm not overly comfortable with… that as well. But it's not because I don't trust either of you. It's because of…” he trailed off, looking down. “the past.” 

He sighed. 

“Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe I sound insane. But Randall buying you clothes. My father constantly provoking you. Everything feels…” He exhaled sharply. “Wrong.”

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him.

He leaned into me immediately, forehead resting lightly against my shoulder like a man exhausted by his own vigilance.

“You don’t sound crazy,” I whispered. “You sound scared. And it’s not weakness.”

He huffed softly, almost embarrassed. “I hate feeling like this. Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe I'm overthinking things and practically losing my mind. I probably sound stupid and insecure”

“No. You don't.” I said quickly. 

“Fuck, I almost felt stupid saying that out loud.” He admitted. “That's not something to say out loud.” 

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” I whispered. 

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said something that made my heartbeat slow and heavy. “I just want to protect you, Sav. Properly and completely.”

I pulled back slightly, searching his face. “And marriage does that?”

“It makes it clear,” he said. “To them. To everyone. You’re mine. You’re under my protection. Not… temporary. Not replaceable. Not negotiable.”

The intensity in his voice stole my breath.

“And if they want to touch what’s mine,” he added quietly, “they’ll know exactly what they’re declaring war against.”

I understood then that this wasn’t about ceremony. It was about territory.

I squeezed his hands. “I will marry you whenever you want,” I said softly. “Even today. Even right now. I don’t care about dresses or witnesses or timing or extravagance.”

For a moment, something bright flashed across his face — relief. Then it faded just as quickly. 

Worry crept back in.

My stomach dropped at the look on his face. “What is it?”

He hesitated—which scared me more than anything he could have said outright. “There’s something else,” he admitted slowly.

I braced myself.

“I’m afraid marriage might make things worse.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. “Worse?” I repeated. “How could it—”

His gaze locked onto mine. “If you become my legal wife… you and our child might enter a countdown.”

The air in my lungs froze. Every word he spoke next felt like ice sliding down my spine.

“My mother was legally married when she died,” he said. “Every woman who died in pregnancy in this house… every one of them was a wife. Not a fiancée. Not a girlfriend.”

Silence swallowed the bathroom.

I tried to think. Tried to breathe. Tried to dismiss the idea as paranoia. But I couldn’t. And that was because Roman wasn’t a man who invented fear without reason.

“What if that’s what he wants?” Roman continued, voice low. “What if he provokes me into marriage because that’s when the evil pattern completes itself?”

My pulse hammered painfully in my ears. “You think your father…” I couldn’t finish.

“I think he plans,” Roman said quietly. “And I think he waits.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

“But then why push us?” I whispered. “Why provoke you into wanting this?”

Roman’s eyes darkened. “Because desperation makes people predictable.”

A tremor moved through me.

He noticed immediately. His hands came to my arms, steadying me. “Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

I did.

“Nothing is happening to you,” he said firmly. “Nothing happens without me knowing. Without me standing in front of it.”

His certainty wrapped around me. But still, fear lingered.

“So what do we do?” I whispered.

He exhaled slowly. “That’s the problem,” he admitted. “Marriage protects you socially… but may expose you physically.”

The weight of that choice pressed heavily between us. Protection or risk. Visibility or vulnerability. Love or caution.

I pressed my forehead lightly against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“If we don’t marry,” I said quietly, “he keeps undermining me. He keeps treating me like I don’t belong.”

Roman’s arms tightened around me.

“And if we do marry,” I continued, “we walk into something we don’t fully understand.”

Neither option felt safe. But neither of us had ever lived safe lives.

After a long moment, I looked up.

“Then we choose together,” I said softly. “Not out of fear. Not out of pressure. But because we decide what happens to us.”

He studied me as if weighing something far deeper than the words themselves. “You trust me that much?” he asked quietly.

“With everything,” I answered. “With my life.” 

His forehead rested against mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

I smiled faintly. “That’s not your decision to make.”

A breath escaped him—somewhere between a laugh and surrender. His arms wrapped around me fully, pulling me close enough that the distance between us disappeared completely.

“I just want you safe,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“And I want our child safe.”

“I know.”

He closed his eyes briefly. Then, softer still, “And I want you mine in every way that matters.”

My chest tightened with warmth. “I already am. You already have me.”

Silence settled again, not heavy this time, but intimate.

Outside the room, life continued. The world moving forward as if nothing had shifted. But something had. A line had been drawn.

Not between us— but around us.

Roman pulled back slightly, searching my face once more, as if committing every detail to memory.

“We’ll think carefully,” he said at last. “No rushing. No traps. No decisions made out of impulsiveness or jealousy.”

I nodded. “Together. Always together.” 

Yet even as his arms held me, a quiet unease lingered in the back of my mind. Because Roman rarely feared shadows without reason.

And if marriage truly started a countdown… Then time had already begun to move.

And both of us knew who had set the clock. Reginald.