Roman had never been great with phone calls. He’d never been good with anything emotional, really. It’s why he’d kept his distance from the rest of the family after the disaster that was Waystar, after the GoJo deal and when Tom became CEO.

It was a bitter pill to swallow—an absolutely humiliating moment—but it wasn't just that. The whole thing had been a mess from the start, and now, with Logan dead, Roman had nothing left in the company, nothing left in the family.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try. The number had been sitting in his phone for months, a simple thing: just a name in his contacts. But every time he’d thought about calling, he’d felt like it was too late. Like nothing he said could fix the years of silence, the absence.

Roman wasn’t good at apologising, and he wasn’t good at admitting when he fucked up, and he had. More than once.

But GoJo’s deal had been the final nail in the coffin. The loss of Waystar. The loss of his purpose. He wasn’t involved anymore, not really. He was free, but that was hardly the same thing as being happy.

So there he was, phone in hand, with Gerri’s signature martini, and rang your number.

“Hello?”

It was your voice. Familiar. Dare he think comforting.

“Hey,” Roman started, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes working himself up to this. “It’s Roman. I... uh... yeah. I guess I’m calling because... I don’t know, maybe it’s time to talk? About everything. What happened with Waystar, with Dad…”

He stopped, the words getting caught in his throat. It was too much, but he couldn’t stop now. Not after everything.

“I don’t even know if you’re still pissed at me for the whole thing,” he said with a small, wry laugh, hoping it came off lighter than it felt. “I don’t blame you if you are, honestly. I don’t even blame you if you think I’m an idiot. I just...” He paused again, trying to get the words right. “I guess I just wanted to say... I fucked up. A lot. And I don't know what the hell to do with any of this.”