Insanely In Love
Chapter 109: Insanely In Love
Savannah
Anybody with eyes and a functioning brain would call me crazy at this moment. Why the hell am I bouncing and humming an old Disney track in the middle of work, on a hot Monday afternoon?
Weird, I know.
There's heads shooting backwards over seats to peep at me from different angles. And I bet some of my coworkers are thinking I'm insane at this point. But honestly? I couldn’t care less. Let them think I’m insane. Because I am—insanely in love.
I'm happy.
I'm content. I'm satisfied. I'm in love with someone who loves me too. Someone who'd do anything for me. My dreams aren’t just dreams anymore—they’re real now.
One week. That’s how long it’s been since Roman told me he loved me, and every day since then has been nothing short of a whirlwind. He’s taken me out on dates, brought me flowers, walked with me through the park, held my hand like I was something precious. He’s been every inch the gentleman—except when the bedroom door shuts—and the best…what? Boyfriend? Fiancé?
Good lord, these labels are killing me. I don't even know what we are at this point. But the truth is, I don’t care. We’re a man and a woman, madly tangled up in love, and that’s enough.
We don't need labels.
And yet, the world outside this cubicle isn’t all roses and Disney melodies. It feels strange, holding so much joy on the very day the world mourns someone I can only despise.
I almost feel bad. Then I don't.
Today is Asher Kingston’s funeral. And no, I won’t be attending. I’ll be celebrating.
Originally, I thought of attending. I wanted to see the man who whispered filthy, degrading words into my ears from behind while he destroyed me. I wanted to see those smug, evil eyes close for good.
I wanted to dance and gulp down an entire bottle of alcohol. I wanted to get loud. Dance. Sing. Retch. Cry. Then dance and sing again.
It was over. Justice has finally been served for the younger me who had her innocence snatched away.
I'm intensely happy.
Morbid? Probably. But if there’s an exception to be made for laughing at a funeral, it’s most definitely at the funeral of the man who stole so much from me.
I know his death can't erase what he did to me. Nor can it wipe away how he made me feel about myself. But at least, that chapter of my life ends with him today.
He can't hurt me from the grave. He can't even hurt me anymore. I'm not the twenty-one-year-old college girl he forced himself on twice. I'm a grown woman now, one who knows exactly what she is.
Men like him remind me of how unsafe it is to trust people. Chloe and I used to visit him with mom's home-baked pies and cookies. We'd stay over at his place, waiting for mom and dad to come pick us up when they had a lot of work to do and couldn't have us distract them. Or when there were wealthy people coming over and they needed us to play ghosts for a while.
We’d stay curled up on that hideous brown couch in his living room, thinking we were safe.
And my parents, blind in their faith, had no idea they’d welcomed a predator into our lives.
We've actually known him as daddy's friend before he became a professor. Alyssa hardly went—she was older, always rolling her eyes and calling his place boring. It was just Chloe and me.
Most times I'd be left alone when Chloe runs off to go watch the butterflies in his gigantic but scary library. I remember sitting there, facing nothing but my reflection on that hideous mirror that always made me feel like someone was watching me.
Maybe he was watching me. Watching me grow up into a young lady. Just slowly biding his time.
Dad trusted him with his daughters and naturally, mom did too. But they had no idea that they brought a wolf into their nest.
But today, that wolf is six feet below and neither the police nor the mourners has the slightest clue how he ended up there. Except me and Roman.
I’ll never forget how I panicked when I realized what Roman had done for me. I’ll always resent the way I reacted, like I hadn’t seen his choice for what it was: protection. He shouldered my monster so I wouldn’t have to.
And since then, he’s given me more happiness in seven days than I’ve had in years. Roman doesn’t just make me happy—he makes me ravenous for life again. For him. For us.
For our future together.
Which is saying something, because once upon a time I numbed myself with meaningless one-night stands. Faces I didn’t remember. Hands I didn’t care for. Emptiness that only hollowed me out further.
But not anymore.
Now, I blush at how insatiable I’ve become—and how he’s taught me to match him step for step. Roman never wastes a chance to show me the fire he carries for me, to burn me alive in it until I forget I ever lived in the frost. It is honestly so thrilling to experience.
And today? Today, after my gynaecologist appointment, I’m heading straight to his office. We’ll have lunch…and then maybe dessert that involves a lot less clothing and a whole lot more thrusting.
The thought has me biting my lip and drumming my feet under the desk, counting down the minutes. If these people don’t stop staring, I just might sprint out of here early, let them gossip about the crazy girl humming Disney songs on a Monday afternoon.
Let them talk.
Because when the clock finally frees me, I won’t just be running from this cubicle. I’ll be running straight into Roman’s arms—and into whatever trouble comes next.
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Finally, time decides to move a little faster and I'm finally allowed to leave. It all thanks to my boss heading out to play golf with a potential investor.
Technically, there's nothing left for me to do at the office. So now I'm at my gynaecologist's, counting down till I'm in Roman's arms again.
But first things first, I need to settle this gnawing feeling of dread within myself.
I need to take a pregnancy test.