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Sorry.
His dad said sorry. Logan fucking Roy said “sorry” to his children. Once. And acts like it’s some kind of grand fucking concession.
Granted, Roman never imagined he would even get that much. And he doubts his siblings did, either. But even when Roman had specifically brought up Italy… which was the hardest blow even considering all of the literal punches he had taken from Logan in his life… all he got was a tacit acknowledgment of a possible misstep. But nothing concrete. Nothing he could take to the bank. As if apologies were some kind of valuable relationship capital. If they are, Roman’s running on a deficit. For both giving and receiving.
His mom had never apologized for anything either, except occasionally in a passive-aggressive non-apology kind of way. Connor didn’t have much to apologize to him for, and Kendall and Shiv would throw out an occasional one laced with sarcasm or insincerity. And that’s about as much as Roman ever gave back to them, too. Because apologies require vulnerability, and that wasn’t something he could often afford to show.
But as he rides through Manhattan, trying to decide where the fuck he’s actually going, Roman remembers who had apologized to him.
Gerri.
Gerri had actually apologized to him twice ; in her room at Tern Haven after Shiv dropped her colluding bombshell and then again during the shareholder meeting after entertaining Sandi and Stewy’s veto proposition. And the thing is… Roman knows with his entire being that Gerri meant it . And he also knows her well enough to know that she’s hardly the type of person who falls over herself apologizing for the hell of it. Gerri fucking cared enough to say it, and she cared enough to look out for him in dozens of other little ways during their all-too-brief alliance.
And Roman had tried to look out for her, too. He stuck his neck out for her on the yacht. He lobbied her for CEO over himself to his dad. He called her when Kendall wanted them to join his coup. But the one thing Gerri had point blank asked him to do… to stop sending her pictures of his dick… and he had to cling to his adolescent jealousy over the fact that she was dating Laurie and double down. And of course then he sent his dick to his own dad.
But he still had the guts to tell Logan not to fire her. And Gerri didn’t cave when Shiv put the thumbscrews on her to report Roman to HR. Gerri had tried to look out for his interests alongside her own for as long as it was feasible. But then Logan had all their backs against the wall and it was every man, woman, and general counsel for themselves.
They had exchanged only two texts in the months since Italy. Roman had spent weeks globetrotting with Ken and Shiv while the dust settled. But after he was back in his house in L.A. for about a month and felt more grounded than he had in a long time, Roman had texted Gerri two words on her birthday. And he had received two in response, three days later. Which meant by some miracle, she hadn’t blocked him.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
And that was all they had said to one another until now, when Roman finds himself in Gerri’s lobby after finally deciding on a post-karaoke destination. He texts Gerri I’m downstairs while her doorman regards him suspiciously. She apparently texts the doorman rather than him, but he lets Roman go up, nonetheless.
Gerri opens the door before Roman even has a chance to knock, and unsurprisingly she’s already in her pajamas since it’s approaching midnight. They’re cut similarly to the ones she had worn at Tern Haven, but these are golden and covered with… zebras? Not what Roman would have expected, but it stands to reason that there’s a lot about Gerri that he doesn’t know. But she looks even more beautiful than he remembered; her hair has grown, and it’s hanging down loose around her shoulders. Her makeup is long gone, and she’s wearing her gold glasses. His favorite ones.
In short… she’s perfect. Fuck.
She’s looking back at Roman curiously, but not at all angrily, like she’s waiting for him to make some kind of decision.
“Come in or fuck off?” he finally asks, because it’s all he can think of.
Grudgingly, Gerri smirks. “Well, I suppose you are loitering.”
“Guess I’ll come in then,” he says quietly and walks past her. Immediately Roman notices how incredible she smells… maybe she already put on face cream? They’re standing in her foyer, and Gerri makes no move to go further into her apartment.
“Roman, why are you here?” she asks with her arms now crossed, seemingly guarding herself against him. Which would be fair.
He looks at his feet. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” And he hears his own voice breaking.
“Do what?”
“I saw Dad tonight.”
This piques her interest. “Seriously?”
Roman nods. “Connor’s rehearsal dinner…”
“And he actually came even though he knew you were supposed to be there?”
“No. We saw him later on. Me and Ken and Shiv were super late to the rehearsal because Dad fucking canceled our helicopter just to be a prick. Willa ran off, Connor was a mess. So the three of us took him out for drinks. But ever since we got back to New York, Sandi and Stewy have been in our asses to put the brakes on green-lighting GoJo tomorrow. They want to put the squeeze on Matsson for more money.”
Gerri is incredulous. “Roman, you can’t possibly be considering that. Matsson isn’t going to budge…”
“Gerri, I know. I’ve been trying to fucking tell them that all night.” Fuck. Roman is not going to cry. He’s not. He can’t. “But Kendall and Shiv won’t fucking listen to me. And I don’t know how to get them to. I really thought we were finally together on something… on the same side. And then they go and pull this shit on me.”
Gerri looks more emotional at his revelation than he would have expected. Definitely sympathetic, but still reserved. He can’t blame her for that.
“Roman, I’m sorry. I… I’ve wanted that for you, too. All three of you, really. Even after everything that happened between us. Because it will never get better. And he’s not going to choose any of you.”
And with that, Gerri breaks him. The tears start falling. And Roman starts pacing. “I fucking know that. But don’t you dare apologize to me, Gerri. I don’t deserve it.” Now he’s fully crying, and he just turns around and plants his forehead against the wall next to her coat closet because he can’t stand to look at her right now.
“Rome…” she says gently, and it isn’t long before she puts a hand on his shoulder and begins rubbing back and forth slowly.
“NO. I’m the one who should be sorry. For the dick pics, for Italy, and just being a prick in general. I think you’re the only person who has ever said sorry to me and meant it. And my dad actually said the word tonight. Finally said the fucking word ‘sorry,’ to us out loud. But it was nothing but a move.”
“Hey,” she soothes, and Roman only cries harder. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way she’s being this nice to him. But now she’s turning him around and pulling him into her arms, and he melts against her. Clings to Gerri like she’s all he has left in the universe, because she is. If she’s willing to be.
They’ve never held each other before… never even shared a regular old hug in a normo-hug kind of circumstance. But Roman’s tucked up under her chin, breathing her in like he’s only ever dreamed about, and Gerri’s hands are running up and down his back with comforting certainly like he’s never known before.
“I don’t want to do this without you, Gerri,” Roman finally chokes out between sobs. “Whatever happens… whatever I end up doing, I want to do it with you.” She pulls back so she can look at him; beyond all reason, her expression is open, and maybe even a little hopeful? “I think you’re the only person who ever really gave a fuck about me, and I miss you so much that I try not to even let myself think about you because it’s too painful.”
Gerri doesn’t say anything, and Roman feels yet another splinter go through his heart when her eyes well with tears, too. She takes his face in her hands and smooths her thumbs across his cheeks to wipe his own tears away.
“Fuck you,” Gerri whispers against his lips before she parts them with her own, and then Roman is drowning. And she’s not being gentle with him, either; Gerri nips at his lips and slides her tongue greedily along his like she’s been thinking about this for months. It takes Roman a moment to catch up, but once he does, he’s kissing Gerri back with everything he has. Even though he’s broken. She broke him. And he’s starting to understand that he broke her, too.
They’ve broken each other into a million pieces. But somehow, beyond all reason, maybe that means they’re the only ones who can put each other back together.
Finally, Gerri pulls back and looks into his eyes. “I really fucking hated you.”
“Past tense?” Roman asks with the tiniest of smiles.
Gerri lets out a watery laugh. “Conditional.”
Against his better judgment, Roman allows hope to bloom in his chest. Conditional means that if he can not fuck this up, then maybe Gerri will give him a second chance. Or like, a fifth chance. Because God knows there were plenty of times before that when she would have been fully justified in cutting him loose.
Roman holds her closer and softly asks, “Can we sit down and talk?”
She nods. “Come on.”
Gerri takes Roman’s hand and leads him past her living room, which he’s seen only a few times when the top team had to pull all-nighters before the shareholder meeting, and down a hallway. Is she taking him to her bedroom? Is she going to fuck the sad out of him? Is she going to murder him? Either way, it will be an improvement to the rest of his day.
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Gerri is opening the door to her bedroom, Roman trailing behind her with his hand still clasped firmly in hers, before she actually realizes what she’s doing. She has spent the last four months vacillating between hating his guts and missing him so much that she feels physically ill from the ache at times. And now within ten minutes of Roman arriving at her door unannounced after only a few words exchanged during their entire separation, they’ve cried and made out and she’s about to pull him into bed with her.
Without a word, Gerri begins to undo the buttons on Roman’s shirt, like opening his wounds up to her scrutiny as opposed to sewing him back together in Hungary. She looks at the buttons rather than his face, because the heat coming off of his body is making her nervous. Not because she doesn't know what she wants, but because she’s afraid of it.
“Gerri, I feel like I need to be up front and say that I’m like 95% sure that I can’t fuck you right now.” This halts her progress a few buttons from the bottom, and she finally looks up at him. Roman actually looks scared; and Gerri is a little grateful, because even though that’s what part of her wants, she knows it isn’t wise.
“Can you just hold me?” she asks, tenderly cupping his cheek. “That’s what I really need.”
Roman can’t seem to believe what she’s handed him with that admission; his eyes are filled with gratitude. “Me too.” He kisses her palm.
He gets the bottom two buttons himself, and unlike Hungary, this time there’s no undershirt as a barrier between Gerri’s hands and his skin. She lays them flat on Roman’s chest, gently, testing the waters before pushing the shirt off his shoulders. He feels so good, she can hardly believe it. Gerri knows she wants to be close to him with as little between them as possible, and she’s thankful to the little voice in her head that said she might be cold tonight and would need a camisole under her pajama top. She unbuttons it quickly, and Roman’s eyes are saucers as he stares in disbelieving intensity. This only fuels Gerri’s need, and she discards her pants a moment later. Now she’s standing before Roman in nothing but the black camisole and matching black underwear, and as if in a trance he strips off his own pants, leaving nothing but his navy blue boxer briefs. The burning look he’s giving her rivals the way he looked at her in her room at Tern Haven; still hungry, but more soulful.
Gerri wasn’t trying to start anything; not really. Her only goal was to feel Roman’s skin against hers, finally, after so many months of still wanting him beyond all reason. But she isn’t sorry when he pulls her to him without any hesitation and kisses her with such quiet passion that it steals her breath away. Their first kiss only minutes earlier had been good, but tense and uncertain with everything that has gone unsaid between them. But somehow, letting go of their clothes had been like shedding a layer of the carefully crafted armor that has only ever served to drive them apart.
But this kiss… Gerri hasn’t experienced anything like it in years. The way Roman is languidly sliding his tongue against hers, sucking on her bottom lip… it’s so tender, yet so sensual and it’s lighting up her entire body. She shouldn’t be thinking about him using his lips and his tongue to make her come, but she can’t help it. This is supposed to be about comfort. And maybe forgiveness, and maybe finding their way back to trust. Gerri starts running her fingers slowly up and down Roman’s back, and he moans and buries his head in her neck.
“I never thought we’d be here,” he says, his muffled voice full of emotion.
“Me neither.” Gerri holds him tighter. “Can we lie down?” She feels Roman nod, and Gerri feels bereft even for just the short time she breaks away from him to get into bed. He follows immediately though, and Roman wastes no time pulling Gerri tightly to him. She tangles their legs together and brings a hand up to cradle his face. They peck their lips together a few more times but then settle into soft caresses and sad smiles.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she finally asks.
“Tonight?”
“Mhm.”
“Sandi and Stewy ambushed us outside of the rehearsal, but the more I think about it, the more I think it was a set-up.”
“Kendall or Shiv?”
“Shiv. She thinks she’s so fucking slick, but she’s a terrible actress.”
“But you said Kendall wants to squeeze Matsson now too?”
“Yeah. At first he was all ‘fuck off’ just like me, but then he went out to take a call. I think Stewy got to him, because when he came back inside suddenly he’s singing Sandi and Stewy’s tune.”
Gerri rolls her eyes. “They’re freaking out because because you guys made an untenable offer on Pierce.”
Roman kisses her nose. “See? Nothing gets past you and it’s fucking sexy. But yeah, the two of them kept trying to bully me into their way of seeing things, and Shiv kept wanting to cut Connor out of the conversation. And I felt shitty enough for how his night ended up so I was like, no he can stay. But then he tipped off Dad, and then he literally fucking showed up at karaoke with fucking Kerry and she was trying to be all woo-woo family therapist.”
“Wow, she really is branching out, huh?” Gerri snickers.
Roman’s eyebrows knit together. “Waaaaiiit. Do you know about her tape?”
“Of course I do. Hugo was dumb enough to pull it up to show me on his laptop waiting for your dad in the conference room and he caught us watching it.”
“Oh fuuuuuck,” Roman laughs.
“And it was still up on his screen when he connected to the projector to show the option deck for publicity.”
“So you and Hugo are in the doghouse now.”
“Roman, I’ve been in the doghouse since the day your dad had to announce me as interim CEO. But I’ve certainly moved up the shitlist, because apparently he’s taking a team to see Matsson tomorrow that doesn’t include me.”
“But what about the board meeting?”
“Canceled.”
“And Connor’s wedding…” Roman laughs mirthlessly. “So everything he said tonight really was an act.”
“But you knew that.” Gerri traces her nails up and down Roman’s arm, and he kisses her neck.
“I did. But…”
“… it’s worse having it confirmed by a third party?” Roman nods, and Gerri sighs. “I think he’s getting ready to kill me. Or… at least he thinks he is.”
“Before the sale?”
“Mhm. Matsson actually wants me to stay on. He wants me to lead the Waystar contingent of the transition team. And depending on how that goes… I guess he doesn’t have a lot of confidence in his current general counsel. Plus, he says that as a woman of a certain age and experience, in his words, I ‘check off the anti- ageist and anti-sexist boxes for the new executive suite.’”
“How very fucking woke of him.”
“Woke nothing, it’s all optics. His GC is a nepotism hire. The nephew of his COO. His nephew the coke head, I might add.”
“As a nepo baby, I would like to take this opportunity to assert that we are not a monolith.”
She bursts out laughing. Kisses him. “God, I’ve missed you, you little asshole.”
“Really?” Roman asks, tucking an errant strand of Gerri’s hair behind her ear.
“It pains me to admit it,” she mutters. “But yes.”
“Boring without me?”
“Terribly.”
Roman smirks, and Gerri tries and fails to fully suppress one of her own.
He takes a deep breath and lays his forehead against Gerri’s. “I am sorry, you know. For real. For all of it.”
She runs a hand up into his hair, because she needs to feel closer to him. “You’ve already said that.”
“It was important for me to do it in person, too.”
“I appreciate that, Roman. I do. But we’re not going to be able to work through all of it tonight, ok? We’ve both hurt each other very deeply. And it’s going to take time.” He starts nuzzling into her neck, and Gerri shivers. She knows he can feel it, and he starts running his fingers along the skin under the hem of her camisole.
“But you want to work through it?” Roman asks, sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Now his fingers are trailing along the top edge of Gerri’s underwear, and she’s trying to figure out how after everything, Roman still has this kind of power over her. She said that nothing would happen, and he agreed. But Roman feels too good, smells too good, looks too good for her to tell him to stop.
And he would, too. Gerri is certain of that. And it makes her want him all the more.
“Oh God, Rome,” she rasps, roughly pulling him up by his hair so she can kiss him. This time it’s sloppy and desperate, but she’s past caring.
“Let me make you come. Please, Gerri. Let me do that for you, at least.”
All she can do is nod, and he slides his fingers into her panties before she can take another breath. Gerri’s truly fucking wet for the first time in forever without additional lubrication; oh God, this is going to be a good orgasm. And better still because Roman’s the one giving it to her.
“Yes, baby. Roman, just like that,” she whispers against his lips.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are right now? How much I want you?” And she can feel it against her leg; he’s hard now. “Gerri, how are you doing this? I haven’t been hard in weeks.”
“Roman, I want you to fuck me.”
Gerri knows the words come out of her mouth; she heard them the same as Roman did. But she can hardly believe it. Of course she wants him. But it’s a terrible idea; a mess. But everything is already a mess. The business… and the whatever the fuck their relationship is now.
He is going to fuck her; they’re becoming lovers in this very moment. And no matter what happens, they will always have been lovers.
“Condom?” he rasps.
“Nightstand.”
Roman reaches over Gerri and rummages, but his eyes never leave her. She takes the opportunity to pull her camisole over her head.
“Fuck,” he whispers as he sits back to get the condom open. Roman puts it on hastily and is immediately back to kissing Gerri, shedding his underwear quickly. He’s palming her nipple, and she reaches down for his ass.
“Inside me, Rome. Now.” And he pushes into her, and it’s glorious. Gerri can’t even remember the last time she wanted someone this much. And he’s doing it. He’s actually fucking her, and it feels amazing. But she needs just a little bit more, so she grabs his hand and shoves it between them until he gets the message and starts working her clit, too. Roman takes Gerri completely by surprise when he rears up just a bit, threads the fingers of his other hand through hers and pins it above Gerri’s head. He’s taking charge, and it’s fucking hot.
“Good?” he asks before claiming her lips again.
“So good,” Gerri moans, and she keeps moaning because she’s so close.
“I love fucking you,” he confesses, and that’s what pushes her over the edge. And even through the condom, she can feel Roman coming, too. And just like he was on the phone, he’s noisy and needy and Gerri feels drunk on the power she has to undo him. Roman seems overcome; he rolls off of her and onto his back so that they’re lying right next to each other, both staring up at the ceiling. They’re trying to catch their breath, but Gerri is the first to break the silence.
“I can’t believe we did that.”
“Like. In a bad way?” Roman asks, but she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it in reassurance.
“No. Just in a… genuinely surprised kind of way. I guess that 5% chance of fucking really turned out in my favor.”
Roman starts laughing in earnest and he turns over on his side until he’s hovering over Gerri. He brings his palm up to her face and kisses her like he’s ready to start all over again.
“I’d say it turned out in both of our favors. That was fucking incredible Gerri, Jesus.” But then he makes an uncomfortable face and starts to sit up. “I’m just gonna…” he indicates toward the ensuite before he gets up. Roman returns after disposing of the condom and wastes no time snuggling right back up to Gerri. She’s getting used to this far too quickly to be sane.
“So. Big wedding tomorrow,” Roman begins. “Got a hot date?”
“I’m bringing Laurie.” The resounding look of horror that crosses Roman’s face is just as satisfying as Gerri thought it would be. She smirks, and Roman actually has the audacity to tickle her sides. “Roman! Stop that NOW.”
“That was fucking mean, Geraldine. You’re a sadist.”
“And you’re a pervert. That’s like one one-hundredth of the retribution I would be justifiably entitled to after you almost got me fired with your cock.”
Roman has the sense to look chagrined. “Yeah, ok. That’s fair.”
“Damn right it’s fair.”
“So, just floating… how about you go to the wedding as my date and we blow up the world as we know it?”
“Roman, would you really do that to Connor?”
“Have you ever been to a wedding involving someone in my family that hasn’t ended in total disaster? It’ll be a complete shit show one way or the other.”
Gerri thinks about it. “You have a point there.”
“I want to get off the fucking hamster wheel. And I know you might not be ready to do that, but you said yourself that my dad’s freezing you out. If you do stay with Matsson, do you think he would really give a fuck?”
“Probably not.” She takes a deep breath. “So are you staying over?”
Roman perks up immediately at that. “I mean yeah, if you want me to. Duh.”
“I very much want you to. And… I’ll go to the wedding with you.”
“Will you let me make out with you and touch your ass?”
“You may kiss me politely on the cheek. And hold my hand or have an arm around my waist.”
“ Hot ,” he mumbles and kisses Gerri again. “Tell me about your dress.”
“It’s more of a suit. Fall in New York on a boat in the afternoon doesn’t exactly scream evening gown. But it’s got a great hat.”
“A hat ? Are we talking like Queen Elizabeth shit here?”
“Maybe.”
“Just so we’re clear, I might have to drag you into a bathroom so I can fuck you in that getup.”
Gerri feigns disinterest, but coyly says, “You never know…” and Roman actually growls when he rolls on top of her starts biting and sucking her earlobe.
“Baby, it’s after 1:00. We need to sleep.”
“We can sleep when we’re dead,” he whispers in her ear. “And call me baby again.”
“Listen Roman, if we aren’t on top of our game tomorrow, we’ll end up overboard either figuratively, literally, or both. So we have to save it for later.” Gerri gives him a lingering peck to let him know that they’re pushing pause and not stop.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t like it, but I get it. Just do one more thing with me before we go to sleep.”
“And what’s that?”
Roman smiles devilishly. “Watch Kerry’s tape with me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
So that’s how they finally settle down to sleep, with Roman curled around Gerri’s back and both of them giggling at Kerry’s retina-burning awkwardness. She feels a contentment she hasn’t known in years, and even though she knows the world will have indeed blown up by this time tomorrow, Molewoman will be fighting the fire alongside Rockstar once again. Just like they were always meant to do.