Max sent the group text a photo of him and Amalia standing at the front door of their new apartment in Barcelona.

It would take a while to sink in that Max isn't in New York anymore. His apartment is vacant and we won't get to see him as often as I'm used to. Still, there's no ignoring how happy he looks in this photo.

Mom, sitting next to me on the deck, wrapped in a thin cashmere throw, smiles when I aim my phone screen at her. Dusk is settling in, the garden lights are beginning to flicker and cicadas chirp, the sound of a mild autumn evening.

"Roman is a great guy," mom says, pulling her throw tighter around her shoulders as she looks out at Roman and dad in the back garden.

The tiny house is being built in the next few weeks and Roman asked for the intricate details of our building plan. Dad of course, was excited to explain his grand vision and dragged him down into the corner of the yard. The two of them were walking around on the grass, dad pointing and Roman nodding along with interest.

"He is great," I agree, watching with a flutter in my stomach as Roman slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and starts back towards the deck with dad.

I never thought I would be so attracted to someone in a plaid flannel but he wears the hell out of it. His white T-shirt underneath has a V neck and exposes the top of his sun kissed smooth chest.

"OSB is cheaper but I get the feeling that's not a major issue," Roman says to dad, the two of them settling into seats on the other side of the outdoor table. "It's heavier and less durable too."

"Standard plywood then?" Dad asks.

"Your builder will suggest the same thing, I'm sure."

Dad gives him a slow nod and reaches for the beer he left on the table earlier. There's pizza coming, and we decided to have a casual Friday night in.

"We discussed folding doors too," dad says, leaning back in his chair. "Have them open right up."

"Abby said you've got those at the beach house in Hermosa," Roman says.

With his long legs spread under the table, my feet can't help brushing his calf and I catch his lip twitch.

I do it with more intention this time, sliding my fluffy socked foot up the inside of his leg. He folds his arms and swallows, focusing on my dad.

"Yeah we're a fan of the open plan concept," dad and mom share a look of agreement.

"Perfect for a tiny house," Roman says as I rest my foot on his seat, right in between his legs. He casually slips a hand down his front and rests it across the top of my foot. "What about a deck on the front? You end up creating the illusion of so much space if you put folding doors on the front of the house and have an indoor, outdoor transition. Throw in a couple of folding windows and again, more space. I think that's the aim with those little houses."

"I like that idea," I say while Roman's thumb moves in slow, absentminded strokes on the bottom of my foot. "I wouldn't mind a window bay with a folding window."

"We can do that," dad tells me. "You're going to have to be sure about the details before we start though. Once it's built, it's built."

"Mhmm," I know, I say, slouching back in my chair. Roman watches me from across the table, his brown waves of hair peeping out from under his cap.

Mom gasps at her phone and almost throws it. "I can't escape Lucas. I can't. I unfollow him and then his photos are reposted by stupid news site."

"What's he done this time," dad looks amused already and he hasn't even seen what I can see from next to mom. She closes Instagram and tips her head back.

"It's a photo of him and Mills," I tell dad. "His face is somewhere it shouldn't be. These two are about to create an OnlyFans. I just know it."

"At least he'd be getting paid and could stop asking me for fucking cash," dad downs the rest of his beer and flings the bottle at the bin beside the grill.

"What's OnlyFans?" Roman asks and dad whips his head toward him, staring with bewildered amusement.

"Oh I see," dad grins, looking between us. "Good one. But don't stress. Abs wouldn't judge something like that."

"He's not kidding, dad," I say. "He doesn't even have Instagram."

Dad looks perplexed, caught off guard that someone wouldn't know what the latest source of porn is.

"Oh," he says. "It's . . . videos. So I hear. Never used it but creators charge for their porn I guess."

I groan, sinking further into my chair at the course this conversation took so fast.

Recognition flitters on Roman's face but he quickly smooths his features and shrugs. "I've never heard of porn either."

"Now I know you're full of shit," dad laughs and Roman joins in. The jabs are all in good nature, even when Roman twists to face dad and gives him a suspecting stare.

"I thought you looked familiar the first time we met."

Mom bursts into a fit of giggles beside me and even though the visual of my boyfriend watching my mom and dad on pornhub is horrific, I can't help but laugh at the quick wit.

Dad laughs too, shaking his head. "Good one, man. But if our sex tapes had ended up on pornhub, my wife would've been collecting court case victories left, right and centre. Those are purely for our own viewing."

Roman keeps laughing but he's tapped out, I can tell. It's all good and well to banter with Drayton Lahey. But don't expect to one up him, ever.

The pizza arrives and we sit outside, eating until it's dark. Dad gets the fire going and mom pops open a bottle of wine for dessert. I don't eat a lot, but I eat enough and Roman takes it upon himself to clean up the boxes and glasses we used during dinner.

We move inside when it's ten, mom yawning and dad smacking her on the ass and telling her to get to bed.

The four of us stand in the kitchen.

"Roman, you're welcome to stay here if you want," mom offers, leaning into dad as if she can't hold her own weight. "It's a long drive home."

"We have a ton of spare bedrooms," dad pipes in and I glare at him.

"Cut it out," mom warns, her half closed lids lowering a little more in his direction.

"Thanks," Roman says. "Thank you for dinner too."

"You're welc—" mom's words turn into a whoosh of air as dad scoops her into his arms in a bridal hold.

"All right, mom is about to fall asleep on her feet. See you in the morning."

Shockingly, he walks out of the kitchen, mom in his arms, without another stupid remark about sharing a bed.  The kitchen becomes quiet and I lace my fingers with Roman's.

"I can leave," he says as we walk into the foyer. The staircase on one side of us, the front door on the other. "If you don't want me to sleep over, I don't mind driving home."

"You can stay," I say, tugging him toward the staircase.

He smiles, the glimmer of adoration in his gaze makes me feel like I could float. There's no expectation, there's no hope for something other than being beside me all night. All that I see in his expression, is gratitude that he gets to be here and it takes my breath away.

In my bedroom, I close the door and pull the curtains. The bed is unmade from where I rolled out of it this morning when Roman sent me a text and asked if I wanted to hang out. Evidence of my rush to find a cute but casual outfit is all over the floor. Clothes and shoes fall out of the closet.

"It's not always like this," I wince, kicking items back into the closet so I can close the door.

"Doesn't bother me," Roman sits on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on his thigh as he watches me dart around and give the room a quick clean. "You've seen where I live, right? I've woken up with a piglet in my bedroom before. A bit of mess is no big deal."

I spin around and face him. "You have?! A piglet? An actual baby pig?"

"Yeah," he lightly laughs. "One of the farm hands was raising her, she was born sick. She got out of her indoor pen and found me."

"I would give anything to be woken up by a baby pig. That sounds adorable."

"It was pretty cute."

Since I'm wearing sweat pants and a loose long sleeve, I don't bother changing. Half the time my lounge clothes end up being PJs anyway. Roman stands up while I fix the comforter on the bed so it's straight.

"Do you need to call home?" I ask, climbing onto the bed and into the covers. "Let someone know you won't be home."

His gaze widens. "I hadn't thought about that. I've never not come home from a date before."

Something about that makes me turn inside out. I know he's not a virgin. We covered that in one of our dinner dates. He had a girlfriend during high school but she left for college and mutually felt like it was time to close the book on their chapter.

He slips his cellphone out of his pocket, an old one with actual buttons and a black and white screen. I can't help but giggle whenever I see it. He gives me a playful glare as he holds the phone up to his ear.

"Hey," he pauses at whoever's on the end of the line. "Yeah I'm fine. I'm just letting you know I won't be home tonight."

He listens, a little blush tinting his cheeks as he shifts on the spot.

"Give it a rest, Rian. I'll see you tomorrow."

He ends the call, slipping the ancient phone into his pocket again. When he finally meets my stare, a grin breaks out across his face.

"What?"

"What did Rian have to say?"

"Nothing I'm repeating," he runs a hand down his face.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" I ask, throwing the comforter back.

"What should I— what should I wear?"

My brows lift a little, my eyes moving down to his jeans.

"What've you got on under those?" I ask.

"Boxer briefs."

"Those will do," I try to slow the pounding in my chest because I'm sure seeing him in boxer briefs is going to unravel me.

He un does his belt first, the sound of his zipper filling the quiet and then he slides the jeans down his strong thighs and I was right, he is a masterpiece.

Swallowing, I don't bother to hide that I'm looking. His legs are so strong and thick and I'm breathing harder than I realise when he slips off his flannel and cap and climbs into bed next to me.

"You all right?" He asks, lying on his side and leaning up on an elbow.

"Yeah," I say, mirroring his position. He's so painfully beautiful, dark brown waves fall across his forehead and kiss the tips of his long lashes.

He slides his hand over my waist and runs it up and down my back. "You want to hear something good?"

"Of course," I say, shifting closer to him, the feeling of his large hands caressing my back soothes me.

"About eight months ago we applied for government funding so we could open a rehabilitation programme with our horses. It's called equine assisted therapy. There's been a lot of studies around horses and how their sensitive nature is perfect for connecting to those who suffer with anxiety or trauma."

"I've heard about equine assisted therapy," I push my fingers into the strands of hair curling around his ears.

"Yeah, our application was approved this morning."

"Roman," I gasp, elation swelling in my chest. "That's so exciting."

Leaning in, I kiss him and his hand tightens on my waist.

"I'm really happy for you," I tell him, leaning back to meet a dazed smile on his glistening lips.

"Thanks, beautiful," he continues his lazy circles on my back and this moment, right here, could last forever and I would be happy.

I don't want to move or fall asleep or ever miss the way he looks at me, as if he's never been more content.

"I wanted to ask," he says. "If you wanted to be part of it?"

I draw up short. "Part of it? In what capacity?"

"Whatever you like," he kisses me again, a quick kiss, as if he were drawn in and couldn't resist. "You could use the programme for yourself or you could volunteer part time, or you could help run it with Rian. Whatever you want. I just wanted you to know it's an option."

My teeth sink into my lip. "I don't know anything about running a therapy group with horses."

"We'll be hiring a team of professional therapists for that side of it. But there will be more to do than that. The horses will need care, there will need to be assisted help during activities, office work will come into it, screening applications, accounting. A whole lot of work goes into it."

My mind wanders, the possibilities of where this road could lead play out in front of me, each one more enticing than the last. It feels as if Roman just threw me a lifeline, the chance to be part of something so healing and wonderful and it was the farthest thing I could've imagined myself doing but my heart is reaching for it.

Roman takes my quiet thinking as hesitance. "You don't have to be part of it. We'll have enough staff and volunteers to cover it. I just wanted you to know the option was there."

"I want in," I say.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," I'm breathless with excitement. "Yeah, I do. I'm not sure how I want to be part of it. But I do. Ooh, can I please make pamphlets? Oh, you know what, I could create a website? There has to be marketing. But I don't want to be in the office all the time. I can come along on the treks or whatever too."

His smile is vibrant, touching his eyes in a way I've never seen before.

"You can do whatever you want," he leans in, his lips brush mine and he lingers there as he speaks. "As long as you continue to smile like that. You're so damn cute when you're excited."

I kiss him, pushing my hand into his hair and arching into him.

Being selfish, in the right context was exactly what I needed. The choices I've made lately, the steps I've taken, the moves I've made, have all been drastic, but all of them have been driven by the desires of the heart.

Instead of choosing what I felt obligated to do, by the people around me or my own sense of responsibility, I chose what truly felt right and what made me happy.

Helping Bernie in the fashion world made me happy because I was watching this beautiful girl succeed in the most spectacular way. But I knew I could only thrive so much in a world that no longer made me feel safe.

My purpose might not feel clear right now, but I know that I'm on the right path because for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.