From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 8

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 7: This Position’s Goated, Love.**

“Are we still on about the room, Sav?” Chloe quipped, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

The air thickened with an unspoken tension, as if everyone present was tiptoeing around the fragile ego of the star child. Silence reigned, an uncomfortable blanket draped over the room.

Dad cleared his throat, a sound that echoed with authority. “Savannah, adjusting a few details for your younger sister’s event should not dredge up old memories that haunt us.”

Alyssa chimed in, her voice surprisingly earnest, “You can take mine if you want.”

Roman stepped forward, his hand finding mine, anchoring me in the moment.

“Now we have even more reasons to cuddle, love,” he joked, a playful glint in his eyes.

His light-hearted comment popped the tension like a needle piercing an inflated balloon, leaving behind a sense of relief.

Dad mentioned something about Roman being unexpectedly decent, a sentiment tinged with disbelief.

“Don’t get mad, Sav,” Chloe added, her tone dripping with feigned sweetness. “You know how the floor gets hostile when you’re angry. Dean and I promise not to break your bed.”

That jab hit hard, a reminder of all the times she had turned my vertigo into her punchline. With Chloe, nothing was sacred—especially not pain.

But I wasn’t about to let her win this round, not after flying all the way from Philly.

So, I flashed a smile, one that masked my inner turmoil.

Then, on a sudden impulse, I rose on my toes and pressed my lips against Roman’s.

It wasn’t premeditated, but it certainly was a performance for the ages.

His lips were soft—so incredibly soft and warm. It felt like the first gentle caress of sunlight after a long, frigid winter.

Get a grip, Savannah.

I shifted my weight, heart racing like a wild stallion. “Let’s make Mom and Dad grandparents,” I blurted, my voice a mix of excitement and dread.

“Ew,” Chloe recoiled, her face a picture of exaggerated disgust.

—

**Chapter 8**

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean muttered under his breath, disbelief etched across his features.

Roman wore a grin that could light up the darkest corners of the room. “Ready whenever you are, love,” he said, his confidence infectious.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” Mom interjected, her voice slightly strained as she wrapped a protective arm around Emily. “I think we’ve all had our fill of gift-giving and tension for now.”

Without a second thought, I grabbed Roman’s hand, and we dashed up the stairs like mischievous children escaping the confines of detention.

“Flora, you prayed for it,” Aunt Janice cackled behind us.

Mom’s voice trailed off, a distant reminder of her admonition about “waiting until the wedding.” I slammed the bedroom door shut, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as I leaned against it, the weight of the world momentarily lifted.

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