Why The Rush?

Why The Rush?
Chapter 285: Why The Rush? 
Savannah 

I lay awake long after Roman surrendered to sleep.

My fingers moved slowly through his hair, gently massaging his scalp the way he seemed to like. Each soft stroke earned me a deeper exhale from him, his body relaxing further against mine. 

His arms were wrapped securely around my waist, his head resting heavily on my chest like he needed the reassurance of my heartbeat to stay anchored.

I couldn’t sleep. Not even close. So much was going on up there. 

My mind was too full, too loud, too tangled with fear and hope and a hundred thoughts that refused to settle into anything orderly. But despite the storm inside me, I was grateful for one simple thing.

Roman was sleeping.

Real sleep. Not the induced, painful one he’d been in for the last two weeks. This was deep, unguarded rest. The kind of sleep a body claims when it finally believes it’s safe—even if only for a moment.

We had agreed to get married in three days.

The decision had come quickly, almost breathlessly, as though delaying it would somehow tempt fate. A lawyer would arrive with the documents. The ceremony would be small. Quiet. Private.

Roman had suggested the garden near the roses. I had suggested our bedroom. We still hadn’t decided on a venue. 

If it were entirely up to me, we would do it here in our bedroom. No witnesses except the people we trusted. No audience. No watchful eyes. No Reginald.

The thought of that man observing us—analyzing, calculating, waiting—made something cold curl in my stomach.

Roman shifted in his sleep, a low groan escaping him as he burrowed closer, pressing his face more firmly against my chest. His hold around my waist tightened as though even in unconsciousness he refused to let distance exist between us.

I brushed the back of my hand over his forehead and relief softened my shoulders.

No fever.

My gaze drifted to the bedroom door. Then back to Roman. I needed to speak to Reese. The need pressed at me insistently, like a thought that refused to be silenced.

But leaving Roman… I just couldn't bring myself to do it. 

Even asleep, even safe in this room, I struggled with the idea of stepping away from him. Not in this house. Not with everything that had happened. Not with Reginald moving through these halls like a shadow that never fully retreated.

What should I do?

Carefully, I reached toward the nightstand and retrieved my phone. I angled the screen away from Roman’s face and typed.

Me: Hey, you asleep?

The reply came quickly.

Reese: Not at the moment. What’s up?

Me: I need to talk to you.

It took a moment for the next response to arrive.

Reese: Is anything wrong? Did something happen?

My thumb hovered before responding.

Me: It’s a lot.

Reese: Do I come over? Or…?

I glanced down at Roman again. His breathing remained slow, steady. His lashes rested against his cheeks, peaceful in a way I rarely saw.

Me: I don’t know. I don’t want to leave Roman alone. But I also don't want him to hear what we're going to discuss. Yet. 

Reese: He’s asleep?

Me: Yes.

The typing indicator appeared… vanished… appeared again. Before the next message arrived, a quiet knock sounded at the door.

My phone vibrated.

Reese: River is at the door. She was with me. She’ll stay with him until you get back.

My pulse quickened.

Me: But what if he wakes up while I'm gone?

A moment passed.

Reese: LOL. Then we deal with it.

I swallowed, then slowly eased Roman’s head from my chest. He stirred. My entire body went still. But he only shifted, murmured something unintelligible, and settled again.

I wonder if that doctor had mixed in sleeping pills with his dosage to make him sleep so well. 

Nevertheless, I replaced the warmth of my body with a pillow, tucking it carefully against him so the absence wouldn’t be abrupt. Slipping from the bed, I grabbed a robe and tied it tightly around myself before moving to the door.

River stood outside in dark blue pajamas, her expression gentle and alert.

“Thank you,” I whispered, stepping aside.

She smiled softly and entered. “Not a problem.” 

I paused just outside, glancing back once more at Roman. He hadn’t moved. “Let me know if he wakes up,” I murmured. “He might be… in a mood.”

Her smile widened slightly in understanding, and she nodded.

I closed the door quietly behind me and moved quickly through the corridor. My steps were light but purposeful, my eyes scanning instinctively for movement, for shadows, for anyone who might be watching.

Reese’s room wasn’t far. I reached his door and lifted my hand to knock but before my knuckles touched the wood, the door opened.

Reese stood there in a white shirt and grey sweatpants, as though he’d been waiting. “Come in,” he said quietly.

I stepped inside. He shut the door behind me.

“How did you know I was there?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He pointed toward the floor. “Saw your feet under the door.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretched for a moment before he spoke again.

“What’s wrong?”

I took a breath. “Roman and I are getting married in three days.”

His brows lifted sharply. “Wow. That’s… sudden.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Why the rush?”

I folded my hands together, staring at them. “Roman wants it that way. I do too. He thinks his father is deliberately disrespecting me by calling me his girlfriend. He wants permanence. Something official.”

Reese exhaled slowly. “Can’t blame him for that.”

I nodded faintly. “We’re holding it here,” I added.

“Here?”

“Yes. In our bedroom.”

He blinked once, clearly surprised. “That’s… intimate.”

“Private,” I corrected quietly.

A small smile touched his mouth. “Congratulations.”

I tried to return the smile. It didn’t quite form properly. “Thank you.”

“Do you need help with anything?” he asked.

My palms were damp. My heart had begun to beat harder, heavier. “Yes.”

He gave a single nod. “I’m listening.”

I rose from the bed and walked toward the window. The grounds of Blackwood Manor stretched outward, vast and still beneath the night sky.

“I feel ridiculous,” I admitted softly. “I don’t even know how to say this without sounding paranoid and evil.”

“Say it anyway,” he said gently. “You don’t have to filter yourself with me.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “It’s about Dahlia.”

Silence followed.

“I thought so,” he said at last. “What about her? Scared of ghosts?” He attempted to lighten the atmosphere. 

“I can’t escape her,” I whispered. “She’s everywhere. In everything.”

He inhaled, then spoke carefully. “If this is about the wedding photo, I already handled it. Bella was responsible. She won’t be anywhere near you again.”

“I know,” I said quickly. 

But that wasn’t it. The words I’d come here to say pressed against my throat, urgent and heavy.

I turned from the window. “I don’t want Roman asking for Dahlia’s tapes anymore.”