Chapter Text
He felt better after. He felt worse.
The three of them left the wake early and went back to Roman and Tabitha’s, because the great thing about having a pregnant wife was you could blame everything on her uterus, but also he could bring Gerri to his bed for the second time in as many years, and nobody could stop him. He was done crying for now, but wanted some basic mammalian comfort, and definitely couldn’t fully indulge that in public, even if everybody knew now. Or at least suspected.
The eyes had been on them when they entered, little ripples of curious chatter bursting to life and then fading out as they passed, but they’d just stood tall (okay, Tabitha more than Roman and Gerri) as they walked down the aisle and took their seats, Gerri displacing Connor and Willa’s nanny. Which was maybe part of why Con was such a fucking prick to her later. Whatever. There was some non verbal negotiation which ended with Tabitha wrapping her arm around his shoulders and Gerri’s hand in his, nestled in her lap like in the car. Fuckit. Let people think he was fucked up. Strange dynamic. Unusually close, they would probably say. Something wrong with him. As if they didn’t already. Roman didn’t let go of Gerri’s hand until he had to speak, and thank fuck for prepared remarks because even then he had no idea what came out of his mouth, running fully on autopilot, spitting out carefully scripted anecdotes about what a good Dad he had and how much he’d loved him. He wished all of that was lies. He took Gerri’s hand once more the second he returned to his seat. Tabs holding him again, and Gerri squeezed his fingers, and Roman let the blur of procedure carry him away until they could escape.
“I mean really,” said Tabitha once they were safely on the couch, holding his hand where it rested on Gerri’s leg, “I’m just surprised Kerry was the first to do it. Once I met your father I was shocked you weren’t Logan Junior, Logan III, Logan IV, and Logina - credit to the iron wills of your mothers, I guess,” she shrugged.
“Mmm,” Gerri sombrely agreed, nudging his nose with her cheek, “Some more sturdy than others.”
Tabitha made an inquisitive noise.
“Connor’s Mom ended up in the nuthouse,” Roman murmured, wrapping himself tighter around Gerri, inhaling her, gripping Tabs’ hand a little too hard when he closed his eyes.
“Ow, Ro,”
“Sorry. Ken’s middle name is Logan by the way. Aha! So is Connor’s! I always forget. Still, it’s disturbing. Especially as he manages to look more like Dad than any of us did. I keep expecting a toddler to homophobic slur me and then tell me to fuck off.”
“Bet Connor was devastated he couldn’t call both of his sons Logan after he went to all the trouble of putting only the most daddy pleasing embryos in Willa,” Tabitha sneered.
“Tabs,” Roman warned.
“What? I can’t drink, let me have this. And he was fucking rude to Gerri. Does anybody want tea? I need something before I puke again,” she gently disentangled her fingers and he felt her soft touch on his cheek before her footsteps retreated to the kitchen.
“That would be lovely, Tabitha, thank you. Anything herbal for me.” Gerri’s voice like a cocoon.
Tabs continued from behind them, “Oh my god did you see Shiv almost lay Greg out when he tried to condolence hug her?”
“I took note,” Gerri replied, her fingers in Roman’s hair, “He sought me out at the wake.”
“What? When?” Roman demanded into Gerri’s neck, and he swore he could feel her roll her eyes.
“When my little guard dog was off having walkies. Don’t worry, you can bark at him next time.” She deadpanned.
“Fuuuck,” Roman whispered, equal parts ready to bone or fight.
“What did he want?” The clink of saucers from the kitchen.
“He wanted to know if there were any executive assistant positions at GoJo,”
Tabitha and Roman scoffed in unison,
“Uh-huh, and he also wanted to let me know Tom is free for any consultancy I might need, and is quote actually really happy now. He said he’s getting - swole - whatever that means.”
“Means he converted to gymnasiums as well as Judaism during his month long sabbatical. Should’ve let him know debate is out on whether cum is kosher,” Tabitha replied, “Oh my god, my boobs are killing me.”
“That will settle down.” Gerri reassured her.
“Ugh, gross, I guess this is my oestrogen soaked future now,” Roman huffed, pressing his face in harder, kissing Gerri a little and blindly groping her breast over her dress because he’d just been reminded he could, “25 types of tea and a fuckin’ - kettle full of pregnancy talk and feminist pussy eating.”
Gerri firmly removed his hand, but she lightly kissed his mouth in compensation, and sounded completely disinterested, “Are you going to take back pussy eating for the patriarchy, Roman?”
He smiled against her skin, and heard Tabs laugh at him from the kitchen.
“Sleep in my bed tonight and find out, Geraldine.”
He felt Gerri tense for a moment, calculating, “Okay.”
He pulled back to look at her face, “Wait, really? It’s that easy?”
“Nothing untoward if an old family friend were to be photographed leaving you and your wife’s building. You have many guest rooms.”
Roman kissed her with a polite amount of tongue considering Tabitha was nearby, then shifted on the couch to reverse their positions, and Gerri’s arm locked around his waist. He was tethered.
“Tabs slow down with that tea, Gerri’s going to eat my pussy,”
A shiny fingernail flicked his earlobe, but then her thumb brushed over his lips, and he kissed it.
“Let me know if you need any tips,” Tabs winked at Gerri as she returned with a tray and settled into the expansive armchair, and Gerri rolled her eyes.
“Uh huh.”
“Ew, my wife is trying to fuck my girlfriend and it’s not even hot. Pornhub lied to me.” Roman screwed up his face.
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Gerri sniffed, “Good god,” she sighed against him, “Somehow, I’ve ended up with two of you.”
But she was titling her face up, so he kissed her again.
Tabitha picked up the teapot, “Yeah but one of us is actually good at eating-”
“Boundaries, fuck!” Roman exclaimed, and now both women were looking at him.
Tabitha was in full troll mode but actually so was Gerri in a different but more direct way - sitting up straight, lips pursed, eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and he felt it in the dick.
Quite unfairly, he thought.
“Fuck you both.”
“Even with Pornhub open, you wouldn’t know where to start,” Gerri said dryly, and reached for her teacup as he moaned in agony.
“Please don’t tell me how you even know about Pornhub, I can’t take much more today.”
“Yeah, careful Gerri, we only just had that dry-cleaned,” Tabitha gestured to the couch and Roman burst out laughing, wondered how he’d managed to make something this good from that Italian nightmare.
Of course the answer was by finally killing Dad, and then the laughter was tears, and then he was in Gerri’s arms. By the time he came up for air Tabs had slipped away to her half of the apartment, and the tea was cold. He pushed Gerri back into the cushions as he kissed her, and didn’t realise he was still crying until she started shushing him. Roman turned his face back into her, breathed in her familiar scent, and Gerri held him in the quiet for so long that he dozed off.
His boner woke him. It was dark outside, and they were under a blanket. He was now only half on top of Gerri, but his cock was hard between them. The lights were off and the fake fire was on, so Tabs must’ve tucked them in, and he almost teared up again at the thought of it. She was going to be a good Mom.
He watched Gerri’s face for a while, in the openness of sleep, then he stroked a finger along her nose and dropped kisses on her mouth to wake her. She’d fuck up her neck if they slept here all night. A little moan of consciousness escaped her lips and Roman swallowed it,
“Ger-Bear, come on. Let’s go to bed. This dress is impossible to suck your tits through.”
A smile on her face and then her eyes opened,
“What’s the time?”
He checked his watch, “10:34. We’ve completely fucked ourselves, better abandon any hope of getting back to sleep before 2.”
Gerri groaned, an unusual enough event that he kissed her again, “You’re so cute, come on let’s fuck.”
“I’m a fully grown 62 year old woman. I am not cute.”
“I’m 40 and I’m fuckin adorable, come on,” and Roman rolled off the couch to pull her up, “Meet me in the bedroom, I’ll bring drinks.”
“Okay but hurry up. I’m not wrestling with this zipper alone.”
Roman brought a bottle of whiskey and a single glass, made sentimental by the day.
Gerri was half slumped on the bed, jewellery and pantyhose already removed, and he pulled her up again, spun her around and unzipped her, peeled the top half of her dress down and grabbed a double handful of her sensibly supported tits while he kissed the back of her neck. She pushed her plump ass back into his erection, and he sighed,
“My dick is so mad right now but I want to talk first, is that okay?”
She turned in his arms, “Whatever you need, Rome,” and the talking could wait a minute, when her tongue was right there, saying all the things he’d always hoped to hear. After a little making out he removed the rest of her dress, and most of his clothes,
“I actually have your pyjamas from the night of my engagement if you’d rather be clothed for the talking,” he tilted his head, “Parts of them might be a little… crusty,” he watched her mouth twist in mock disgust.
“I remember,” she wrinkled her nose, and he resisted telling her how cute it was.
“Maybe a little more crusty than when you last saw them?” he wrinkled his own nose, and Gerri rolled her eyes.
“Anything of mine you’ve stolen that wouldn’t stretch the bounds of black light technology will do,” she patted his cheek and busied herself removing her underwear. Roman inhaled, “And don’t pretend it’s only the pyjamas, Roman. You may be careless with your attire but I have a spreadsheet.”
“Of course you do. Ugh. So hot,” he groaned and went into the closet to retrieve one of her robes, “Fluffy or silky?” he called out.
“The green one, you remorseless pervert,” she called back, and Roman considered protesting that he didn’t have that one, because he liked the smell of it so much he hadn’t even cum on it, before he remembered the spreadsheet.
Besides, soon Gerri would fill half the closet if things went to plan, and he could cum on all sorts of things. He helped her into the robe upon his return, tying the belt as he kissed her nose, and she did her best to avoid that.
”Such a hot bitch,” he pinched her ass, “A cute one too,” he smirked defiantly.
”Uh huh,” Gerri smacked his bottom, and raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll that’s fucking - Distracting,” he surged forward and put his tongue to hers for a while, but then they settled into bed, trading the glass of booze off between them.
“So,” Roman began, “I’ve got questions. Some of them you might not like.”
“Okay,” wary but willing.
Straight to it.
“Did you ever fuck my Dad?”
Gerri sucked in a breath, he could see her ordering her thoughts, and it made him feel sick even though he already knew he’d still love her.
“Roman. Are you sure you want an answer to this?”
“He’s dead now, I can’t act out any Greek myths,” he grasped her hand, looked into those cool blue eyes and their sheen of worry, “Gerri. I want you to know - look, I mean, I get that you lived a whole life before me. With everything that entails. Will it maybe fuck me up for a bit? Probably. But I love you. I have you now, doesn’t matter how many dead men came before me. So to speak.”
“Laurie’s not dead,” her deflection survival instincts would always be there, but he was used to them now, as she was accepting of his.
“He might as well be, sticking his dick in Sharon. Seriously, though - Ger, you can tell me. I know who Dad was. I know you. Nothing will shock me.”
She looked down at their hands, and stroked a finger along his wedding band,
“You know what corporate culture was like back then. Even with Baird as a human shield, I still had to be very, very careful. Roman, I was very, very careful almost all of the time. But then my husband died,”
She paused, took a deep breath in, and he squeezed her hand, felt the fulcrum moment,
“I don’t know if you ever noticed that I always brought Marcia a box of French chocolates when visiting your father’s house?”
“I didn’t.”
“Before they were married, she would sometimes drop by the office to surprise Logan. For lunch.”
“Okay.”
“This was before all the, well, all the glass.”
Roman kept silent. She kept stroking his hand,
“There was a moment. One night not long after Baird died, Marcia surprised your Dad for dinner. The assistants were already gone, so she let herself into his office. Impeccable timing, really. I’d just reached the last of my drink, and my excuses.”
He tried to catch her eye, but her gaze was resolute, her fingers soft and steady.
“So…you didn’t?”
“Either outcome would have been a career ending mistake either immediately or eventually, but I - Roman,” Gerri finally looked him in the eye, “In that moment, I would have. I’m sorry.”
The complicated rush of emotion was forced out of him along with the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, but mainly it was relief at having one less suitcase in their baggage. He pulled her to him,
“Nothing to be sorry about that my therapist can’t charge me for. Thought Crimes will pick you up later,” he smiled, and kissed her.
“You’re okay?”
”Yes, Gerri. No need to panic.”
“I’m not panicking,” she scolded, and he smiled again, objective achieved, “What other terrible questions do you have?” Gerri pointedly wiggled the now empty glass, and Roman obediently refilled it.
“Okay, so I do have another question, and hopefully it’s not as terrible - but that one took me 3 years to ask and after the last week I’m fucking emotionally exhausted, so now all I want is to get us both naked as fast as possible.”
“Is that so?” Gerri leaned across him to put the glass on the nightstand, all of her so close, and still so erotic to him, but-
“And go to sleep,” Roman moaned in defeat, resting his forehead on her shoulder, “I think I’m actually too exhausted to cum, which is very fucking unfair with the way your tits look in that robe.”
Gerri laughed, and kissed him, “Better take it off, then.”
And once he was pressed against Gerri in his bed, with a good handful of her, skin to skin, Roman felt the weight of the day, of the last 3 years, and maybe even the 37 preceding that fall away. He kissed her warm shoulder,
“I love you, Gerri.”
“I know you do, Rome.”
And he could hear the smile in her voice.
*
Roman waited a fortnight to ask her, waited until she’d carefully replicated all her toiletries and fuck yes transferred some underwear and clothes and all her little routines to his place, until he’d had her in his bed, their bed now enough times to feel like the precious mundanity of this new reality had solidified, that this was a thing he was really allowed to have.
They were in his home office, he was cheerfully unwrapping a block of post-its when he couldn’t wait any longer,
“So Gerri,”
“Mmm?”
She looked up from her laptop where she’d been casting an eye over his latest potential sports betting deal, of course refusing to tell him what to do but glad to give her opinion, and suddenly Roman was back at Waystar - watching her in the lamplight, desperate to sacrifice himself on her potters wheel, hoping she’d consent to wrap her hands around him and shape him in all ways.
“Just floating this, but - should we…”
She stared impassively at him and his dick twitched, of course. He was still human,
“…get married? It’s not too late for us to do it, you know. Now Dad’s dead, we’re free.”
Gerri smiled indulgently at him,
“2 husbands is enough for me, and I think your wife would disagree that you’re free.”
“She’d be cool with it, you know Tabs. I’d still keep her on in a baby-mama and bestie capacity, pay for all her stuff et-set-er-rah.”
“Roman,” a fond yet dismissive snort, and she looked back at the screen.
It stung. He just needed to pitch harder, so she knew he meant it,
“I’m serious, Gerri. You, me, and a certificate. Matching rings! Making out in public! Fuckin’ - communal property and china patterns and nothing left to hide. A declaration of independence. We’re free, Gerri. Wave a fucking flag.”
He reached across the desk and grabbed her hand, made her look at him. She licked her lips, and cleared her throat.
Oh.
“Roman. Your Father was a significant obstacle to our relationship, and you’re right, we can now be a lot more open. And we are. For all intents and purposes, in private we are - fully committed. But the greatest hindrance to a public declaration remains,” she sighed, and squeezed his hand.
Roman braced himself - knowing he could argue down whatever she was about to throw at him. Money could solve anything.
“Rome. It’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“No, I mean, time is our greatest obstacle, and that’s still against us. I’m decades ahead of you, and-”
“Uh, no it’s not, shut up.”
“Rome, see? You can’t even bear to think about it. I know you. I watched you deal privately and publicly with Logan’s mortality, I know how that makes you feel, and maybe we’ll get a good decade of public commitment in, perhaps 15 years and then what? You spend the rest of my life legally tied to my increasingly decrepit body and maybe mind while you wait for me to die so you can be free again to build a life? Years behind? Or you divorce me and reduce us to tabloid curiosity? I was married to somebody older, and yes Baird left suddenly, but if he hadn’t…and when he did, I never expected to ever…it was a death sentence in a way. This way you don’t have to worry about that.”
His eyes were prickling. Of course he’d thought about Gerri’s mortality, sometimes like a child peeking through their fingers at a scary movie, perhaps a little too abstractly, but as usual she’d been the bloodless pragmatist the whole time. Gerri always had a plan. But so did he now,
“Okay but bullshit, Gerri - because I do actually know what marriage means, I have actually thought about this, and I will shout it from the fucking rooftops for however long we get because I love you and want to take care of you. I would do that for you. You know I would do that for you?” he couldn’t prevent the beseeching up-tone, he needed her to listen.
“I know you would, Rome. And that’s why I won’t let you. You’re right in that you are freer than ever. All the burdens that stopped you becoming who you could be. I’m the last one, though I never intended to be-”
“Gerri you’re not a-”
“Roman let me finish, please? Look at your public and yes, your private self now. You’re a husband, your own man in business, you’re going to be a father figure, a loving one - I can tell. You’ve got a good reputation. You’re now the type of man people trust and invest in. Look at how far you’ve come. I won’t take that from you. I saw, in Italy I saw Logan take all of your progress in one move. He cut you all down. When you were on your knees, Rome, the sound of you, I decided then to step right back on all the - the mess between us, to give you a chance to do something for yourself. I never intended to-”
She took a deep breath,
“It’s the other reason I married Laurie,” she swallowed, and looked away, “To cut us both off. I thought if I could keep away from you in private as well as public - we know I failed, I was selfish. And I wish I was good enough to be sorry about that. But I also won’t take any more from you, even if you want to give it. It’s why I won’t do business with you, make decisions for you, marry you. Don’t anchor yourself to me like that, stay nimble, Roman - we still have something going as long as you want it, but float hot, and however soon you’re ready to move on you can do it without having to explain yourself to anyone including me, and,” her voice cracked, and he wanted to leap across the desk, “I won’t do to you what Baird did to me.”
He could hear her breathing, it was shaky, she was frowning at their hands,
“But Rome?”
“Gerri, what, anything, what?” His head was spinning as the last little puzzle pieces of Gerri Kellman slipped into place.
“I’m still a selfish coward, so-” Gerri looked up, eyes never more blue, “If you beg me, I’ll do it, because it’s advantageous to me. But I’m trying to serve your interests, so please don’t ask again, because I’ve loved you. I will for the rest of my life, Roman, even if you leave tomorrow.”
His heart was bursting, and then she cracked open. She was openly sobbing, just ugly fucking crying, smearing her glasses and not leaving a single scrap of dignity, and there was only one thing left for Roman to do - get to the other side of the desk and hold her until she was done.
*
The will reading was suitably dramatic, because Logan predictably wanted to fuck them all from the grave. Connor was annoyed that Gerri was there, but Tabitha had pointed out after the wake that he was probably just pissed about being the last to know as usual, so Roman decided to forgive him in advance for anything he might say. And Gerri was very clear that she could cope.
Fucking Greg was there, not with Tom thank god because Shiv was doing okay, or was at least not so angry at the world now she was in DC, and was actually much nicer to Gerri; probably because her disgust had been outsourced to Con, and also because they no longer worked together, so her competitive streak was tempered.
Ken and Naomi were sober, which was nice. Although they wouldn’t shut up about launching a cryptocurrency called KENDOLLARS (KEN$$ abbreviated).
The OG Logan Jnr got a hefty chunk of capital, enough to be perfectly insulting to everybody else there. Roman supposed at some point they’d all have to acknowledge that the tiny angry person was their brother. He resisted asking Kerry if his first word had been fuck off. All the wives got their expected share. Caroline sent a lawyer with a phone because she’d already travelled once for the funeral, and why come over when the money was done and dusted - for her children? Unlikely. She was what she was, and he’d made peace with that after Italy, and many hours of therapy.
The big plot twist came when discussing conditions for the siblings inheritance. Turned out Dad hadn’t actually added that ‘everybody makes a Roy’ thing after all, he’d just been once again pulling their strings using the best weapon he had without being able to put a gun to their heads and physically shove their dicks into the hole.
”Oh thank fuck, I fucking love money,” Roman blurted out, regressively revealing too much.
Willa burst into tears, and set off the twins who were whisked away by their nannies. Connor stared into the middle distance, and Roman went over to put a hand on his shoulder. Shiv just laughed, and then cried,
“I tied my fucking tubes!” And then laughed again while Kendall hugged her, getting snot all over his MOMA/Yeezy collab hoodie, his children already accounted for.
Roman looked at Gerri and Tabitha. The latter was trying not to smile, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears because now her baby was safe, and the former was fully across her classic Roy Fuck Festival I don’t see any dysfunction here lawyer face, but she was holding Tabs’ hand, he could see she was applying a comforting pressure, and he loved her and was definitely going to fuck her senseless as soon as they got home, and suddenly Roman was laughing too, because there was nobody left he cared about pleasing that he couldn’t already please. Including himself.
*
Gerri insisted everybody keep their respective apartments, and forbid the buying of any joint residence for the two of them, so they alternated, but Roman lit up inside every time she referred to either hers or his as ours or home, and they only ever slept apart when away on business. Which merely provided ample opportunity for some greatest phone-fuck hits. She’d finished up her contract with Matsson and the last tendril of Waystar in their lives floated away like web on the breeze, excluding any intermittent Swedish flirting at conferences. As per Gerri’s plan (of course) she did consultancy to stave off retirement.
There was one incredibly tense dinner at Gerri’s place with Hannah and Emily, even with Gerri having done the groundwork, and then a second minutely less tense one after that. It was the start of the best they could hope for.
They nursed Tabitha through a broken heart when she broke up with half of the gallerists 6 months after Ella was born. Like Roman, Claudia had fallen in love with the little pink squealer, but sadly Byron had not. With Tabitha’s approval Roman was reserving his more direct paternal involvement for when Ella could wipe her own ass and be trusted not to choke on grapes, but he loved her goop covered little face fiercely anyway. Especially because she wasn’t really a Roy, so it was safe to love her. He couldn’t imagine anybody looking at a baby and deciding not to love, though he knew from experience that was all too possible.
And so Claudia occasionally occupied Tabs’ half of the apartment, and everything was so fucking non traditional and Not What He Was Supposed To Want that Roman was surprised he wasn’t walking around half chubbed 24/7. He liked to loudly declare that he was suffering under an oppressive air of feminist misandry whenever they were all at home at the same time, but he also came embarrassingly quickly even for him when Gerri tugged him off in their home office and snapped, Welcome to the Matriarchy after an evening of listening to him complain about the overly yonic aesthetic of the new (admittedly more comfortable) couch.
*
It was a Thursday, but that didn’t really mean much anymore.
Roman staggered into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and croissants, and found Tabs and Gerri working silently in tandem to distribute caffeine. Gerri was off work as well today, so she was still in her robe, presently cum free, and her hair was as curly as Tabitha’s, and when they heard him snort and turned to look in unison Roman was full to the brim with affectionate glee,
“Christ, look at you two, I’m going to jerk off so hard to this, I’ll need a new one,” he smirked and reached for the coffee Gerri held out.
She narrowed her eyes, and he mentally bent over, ready for it,
“Don’t skimp on the warranty this time.”
Perfection. Tabitha laughed, and he kissed the answering smirk off Gerri’s face, and didn’t stop tongue-fucking her until Claudia cleared her throat behind them.
“Ready to go?”
She had Ella strapped in a front facing papoose, because not only did Roman now live in a sea of pseudo polyamorous oestrogen, it was a fucking hippie one at that. There was small batch artisanal yoghurt for lesbians in the refrigerator, it was fucking disgusting. It was paradise.
“Yeah babe, here,” Tabs handed Claudia her coffee, and kissed Roman on the cheek, “See you next week, Ro.”
He kissed Ella’s chubby baby hands, then waved goodbye to the three of them as they left, keeping his other arm around Gerri.
“Now that we’re alone,” he plunged his hands into her robe, his face close behind.
After, Roman rested his head on her chest, and Gerri ran her fingers through the grey at his temples.
“That bit about not being able to drive was particularly vicious. You’re going to give me a complex. I can’t wait,” he smiled and moved to hover over her so he could look her in the eye, “I love you, Gerri,” he revelled in the twist of her lips, and waited for his new favourite part.
“I love you too, Rome, even though you wouldn’t know a gearstick if you sat on one.”
“I mean, is that a dare?”
*
They were at the RECNY when Roman realised he was happy. Connor and Willa had fully taken it over to preserve Dad’s legacy even though his mother had actually started it, but it was fine because Tabitha’s agency then got first dibs on the entertainment contracts.
He and Tabs dutifully posed on the red carpet, cupping her barely swollen belly for the photographers, Roman and Tabitha Roy can’t wait to meet second child, classic stuff. Gerri was passing by, and Roman reached out and put a hand on her lower back, intending to halt her for a kiss on the cheek, but as he leaned in she turned her head, and their mouths pressed together. It was right on the borderline between friendly and not. A little too loose to be platonic yet somehow plausible deniability in a kiss. Not that it mattered much. It was somewhat of an open secret in their circle, how close they were. That the Roy living arrangements were unusual. He would often guide Gerri through a doorway, whisper in her ear at events, or even hold hands at a dinner table. If people stared, he and Tabs would just sling an arm around each other. Behold, my wife. Nothing to see here. But as for the wider world, what were whispers on the internet anyway. Not even airflow. On paper Roman Roy was the normo one.
Fucking hilarious.
He smiled wide at Gerri and she smiled back at him, then reached out and gently wiped her lipstick off his mouth with her thumb.
***