Good Gods

Chapter 10

When Roman and I were ah, well how do I say this, newly intimate? Or better yet, when he'd only been sleeping at my place for under a month, I tried to have the—how many sexual partners have you had before me—talk. I didn't get anywhere.

Don't get me wrong, he'd been wearing a condom when we did it and yes, his donning one was my idea, never his. So, I figured if we were ever going to drop the parachute, per his insisting, I should have an idea of his past history. I'm a modern girl. I'm down with all the modern girl rules like knowing ones partners' sexual history, no riding without a saddle, insist on testing if there is a question, and all that.

I'd been making him breakfast in my old apartment, and while filling his coffee I'd asked. "How many other women have you slept with?"

I thought I was coy slipping it on in there like regular old coffee talk.

His lips had twitched, and leaning back in his chair, he'd taken a slow drink. "Do you mean how many women have I slept with, or had sex with?

"Sex with." Duh. Leave it to him to question my terminology.

He'd shrugged and taken another drag of his coffee.

"This isn't hard, are we talking two, or fifty?"

"I'm older than you," he said.

Wow, and if that wasn't really an answer at all. I'd placed my hands on my hips and given him my best don't-mess-with-Texas face. I was a waitress, we know how to get an answer.

He'd taken another slow drink of coffee, his dark eyes shining at me from over his cup. "You're worried about my other sexual encounters, why?"

I noted he didn't say lovers or girlfriends. Roman can be very impersonal when it comes to people. "Yes, like if they were syphilitic crack whores or the like. I've the right to know."

His lips had twitched again. "You've changed."

My hands had stayed on my hips, now my foot started tapping. He says shit like that a lot. And it still kind of pisses me off. This time, I couldn't figure out how the waitress he met over coffee could really change in a month, other then I didn't have a sexual history before him. But that's a story for later, and I really didn't see how it pertained to our discussion.

Roman sighed and waved his hand. "I have no disease, you can trust in that."

Then there's his brother's comment this morning about me being the current wife. I'm biting my inner lip thinking about it. I grab my purse off the back of the chair and throw money down on the table in front of Jolene. I need fresh air. Fast.

"Sugar-pie, your husband isn't Zeus. See, history can be a little different." The pause in Jolene's speech doesn't sound convincing.

I stand. "How do you know that?" Not that I thought Roman was him either, er, much. Okay, maybe a little. My mind flips to the huge storm that had brewed outside our window the night of the fire. The storm that blew up after Roman saw Lance kiss me. Zeus equaled thunder. My stomach twists. And Roman said he is never afraid of thunder.

Jolene gets to her feet, our eyes level. "Because Zeus is my Dad."

I paused. My eyes blink in rapid succession. Du-huh, right? Athena marched out of Zeus skull or such, I'm only half remembering the story. "So Quin's Dad isn't Zeus?"

My vision swims. The blooming grains at my feet curl around my legs. They tickle.

"No," Jolene pauses. "I didn't say that, only that you're not married to him cause he's married to Herta."