Losing Romeo (21 page)

“What do you think?” Bryson asked.

“I think this is the part where you kiss me.”

He slid his hand behind her neck, the brush of his fingertips trailing warmth across her skin. The ride’s lights reflected in his eyes as he slowly leaned in. He stopped just short of her lips, his breath mixing with hers. For a couple of seconds, he stared, an indiscernible expression on his face. The inches between their lips were torturous. Just when she didn’t think she could take it anymore, he closed the space between them.

She let her mouth fall open and he took advantage, sliding his tongue in to meet hers. Jolts of energy shot through her entire body, a searing trail from lips to toes. Everything else moved out of the way as the entirety of her focus turned to Bryson. Every drag of his fingers, the stroke of his tongue, the taste of him, the dizzying blur of pleasant sensations flooding her system.

Then the ride lurched to a stop, their bucket in the highest position. Bryson gripped her tighter as they rocked, and she held on, needing the security.

“The way I feel about you scares me.” It burst out of her, unbidden, out in the air where she couldn’t take it back.

Bryson lowered his eyebrows. “Scares you?”

“I’ve been wrong before, and it hurt, but with you, if things don’t work out…” She placed her hand on the side of his face, trying to talk past the tightness in her throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

The bucket dropped a few feet as the man working the ride moved to unload the next set of passengers, the rocking more gentle this time.

“The reason I told you about my plans for college is because I
want
things to work out,” Bryson said. “I made that decision so we could still be together.”

“I want to be in your plans, but I don’t want you making plans because of me.”

Confusion flickered across Bryson’s multicolored features. “What are you saying?”

She lifted her gaze to the sky, but it held no answers, and it certainly didn’t stop tears from trying to form—jeez, between family drama and being in love, she was an emotional mess lately. “I’m saying I don’t want to hold you back. What if you change all your plans, go to a nearby college instead of the college you really want to go to, and then you get sick of me?”

They dropped again, two buckets away from the bottom.

“Baby, I’m not going to get sick of you,” Bryson said.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. Remember that whole me-loving-you thing?” He traced his thumb across her bottom lip, the combination of frazzled nerve endings and the gentleness of the gesture sending an intoxicating mix of passion and affection through her. “Sometimes you just know, and I just know.”

“I don’t want to be responsible for you not following your dreams,” she whispered, unable to make her voice go any louder than that.

“My dream is me and you.”

Euphoria tingled through her, and her heart swelled. “Then I hope your dream comes true.” She leaned in and kissed him again, running her fingers over his strong shoulders.

But she still felt something was wrong, felt it all the way into her bones. And in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help thinking that the good dreams always ended when you least wanted them to.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Hey, baby?” Bryson said, squeezing her knee.

Dafne’s six a.m. wake-up call had been a long time ago, and the drive home had almost lulled her to sleep. Lifting her head from Bryson’s shoulder seemed impossible. She covered a yawn with her hand. “Are we there?”

“Just about. And there’s a car parked in front of Daphne’s. Do you recognize it?”

She sat up, trying to shake herself out of her haze, and looked at the car. Silver, tiny, and unfamiliar. “No.”

Bryson pulled the truck up behind the miniature car. The lights lit up the interior and the profile of someone sitting in the front seat.

Rosaline gripped Bryson’s arm. “Is it someone from town?”

“People from town would know better than to drive a Yaris out here. I’m surprised it didn’t get high-centered at the turn off.” Bryson opened his door.

Rosaline clung on to him, keeping him in place. “What if it’s someone dangerous?”

“I’m going to point out the golf cart masquerading as a car.” He patted her thigh. “I’ll check it out and be right back.” He stepped out into the darkness.

Whoever was in the car got out as well. Rosaline leaned toward the windshield and squinted, trying to see if she recognized their unexpected visitor. Brown curly hair, short—definitely a dude. He turned, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the headlights.

“Lawrence?” He was the last person in the world she’d expect to see here, but she was sure it was him. He was the younger brother of the priest in Verona, and while she’d never talked to him much, he was always around, helping out his brother. She climbed out of the truck and called his name.

“Rosaline?” He started past Bryson, but Bryson put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“You know him?” Bryson asked.

“I’ve known him since forever. He’s from Verona.”
It’s not like we’re travel-halfway-across-the-country friends, though.
Rosaline closed the distance between them, rubbing her arms against the chill. “What are you doing here?”

Lawrence glanced at the house. “Can we go in? I think you’re going to want to be sitting down for this.”

***

Apprehension spread through Rosaline, that sense of wrongness from earlier deepening. She’d delayed as long as she could, flipping on lights and offering Lawrence a drink. Bryson stood next to the door, arms crossed, his eyes following her every movement.

Knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer, she sat across from Lawrence. Bryson came over and sat on the arm of the chair. He put his hand on her shoulder, a reassuring gesture saying he was there if she needed him. Sure she would, she put her hand over his and took a deep breath.

Lawrence placed the glass of water he hadn’t touched on the coffee table and scooted forward. “It’s Romeo and Juliet…” He swallowed. Hard enough to make a loud gulping noise. “They’re dead, Rosaline.”

All the air rushed out of her lungs as the unbelievable words crashed into her. She’d expected something bad, but not something so horrible that it felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, seconds away from being pushed off. “Dead?”

“They committed suicide. So they could be together.”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I just talked to Juliet at Ty’s funeral. And Romeo’s not even in Verona.”

“He came back for her. The law was on him in seconds. Before he came into town, he’d gotten poison from some guy, just in case. Nasty stuff that was like twenty times stronger than what he’d even need. Running made him look guilty and he…” Lawrence ran a hand through his hair, leaving curls sticking up in all directions. “I tried to help him. Tried to make it so they could be together. I thought it would help bring the Capulets and Montagues together. But it all went wrong.” He blinked, and tears choked his words. “I never thought it would end like this.”

Rosaline lifted her trembling hands to her mouth, and tears burned her eyes.
Dead. Both of them.

“I didn’t know what they were planning,” Lawrence said, his voice so quiet she could barely make out his words. “But Juliet made me swear I’d get a message to you if something happened to her.”

“To me?” Rosaline asked, disbelief mixing in with sorrow and confusion and a hundred other emotions that were winding themselves around her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“She said you were the only one who understood. She left a note for you in her top dresser drawer.”

“But I don’t understand.” A couple tears spilled out, running warm trails down her cheeks. “She and I weren’t even that close. Now you’re telling me she left me some kind of message?”

Lawrence shrugged. “I’m not sure why. She said you talked to her—that you knew how important it was for her and Romeo to be together. That you encouraged her when she was about to give up.”

Rosaline thought back over their conversation at the graveyard.

Ice formed in her chest as she remembered that she’d told Juliet to find a way to be with Romeo, no matter what it took. She didn’t want to believe it. But it fit what Lawrence was telling her. The ice cracked and then shattered, sending shards of her heart tumbling into her stomach. “I didn’t mean…Not like this.”

More tears spilled out, and she sucked in a burning breath. “This is all my fault. They’re dead because of me.”

***

The next moments were a blur of crying and hyperventilating as Bryson tried to calm her down. But how can you calm down when you’re to blame for two people’s deaths? Rosaline shot out of her seat and paced the room, feeling helpless and awful, regret and guilt tearing her up inside.

Bryson stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. You’re not responsible for the decisions they made.”

“I certainly pushed them to it—especially Juliet. She was so upset. I could see her heart was broken, and I was trying to be sympathetic. Before that, I thought that Romeo just hopped from girl to girl, but I could feel how much she loved him, and I was sure he loved her.” Her chin quivered. “I even prayed to St. Valentine they’d find a way to be together. And they did.”

Rosaline slumped against Bryson, her legs no longer able to support her. “First Ty. Now Juliet. What am I supposed to say to her parents?”

Lawrence patted her back as if he wasn’t sure it was the right move. “Rosaline, please don’t blame yourself. I’m the one who thought I could sneak him back into the city. I had fake papers lined up and everything. If it wasn’t for me…” He sniffed, the noise so loud in the quiet. “They did love each other. I wanted to give them the chance to be together.”

Rosaline turned and threw her arms around Lawrence, hugging him tightly. She didn’t know what else to do. They stood like that, hugging, sorrow suffocating the air around them.

They broke the hug, and Rosaline turned to lean on Bryson again. He wrapped his arms around her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I guess I’m going to have to go back to Verona, find the letter, and see what it says.” She looked at Lawrence. “Are you going back tomorrow?”

“I don’t have set plans yet. As soon as I heard they’d…” He schooled his features, fighting back another wave of emotion and then let out a long exhale. “I knew I needed to see you. I bought a one-way plane ticket, hoping we could figure out something together. I’m going to have to talk to the Montagues, tell them about Romeo’s relationship with Juliet, and hope they don’t kill me. I’ll go with you to talk to Juliet’s parents, too, if you need me to.”

“Thank you.” Rosaline’s head pounded from all the crying. It was too late to do much of anything now. “I guess we try to get some sleep and figure it out in the morning. I’ll grab some blankets and set you up on the couch.” She started to pull away from Bryson, but he held her in place.

“That’s not going to happen. He can stay at my house. We’ve got lots of guest bedrooms, and I know I’ll get more sleep that way.” Bryson kissed Rosaline’s forehead. “Should I call Winslow and Dafne?”

Rosaline wanted Dafne here more than anything—she’d know what to do.
Man, that stupid curse is real. No one around here gets a day of happiness without something awful happening.

The unfairness of it all made her want to stomp her foot and scream.
I won’t let this overshadow their wedding. They get one day of bliss, damn it.

“Let them have tonight,” she said. “I’ll call her first thing tomorrow morning.”

Bryson cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping more tears. “Are you going to be okay here all by yourself?”

No. I’m going to stress about the letter and rehash every word I said to Juliet and wonder why I got involved in the first place.
“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll come back first thing in the morning.” Bryson gave her a soft kiss, then hugged her again. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.

She nodded, but when Bryson and Lawrence left, leaving her in the heavy ringing silence, it felt like nothing would ever be okay again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The second Dafne burst through the door, Rosaline rushed over and threw her arms around her aunt. They clung to each other for a few moments before Dafne pulled back, tears in her eyes. “What’s going on with our family?”

“I’m afraid this time it’s my fault.” Rosaline explained about what she’d told Juliet, how Lawrence said there was a letter for her, and how guilty she felt about all of it.

Dafne shook her head. “Don’t put that on yourself. They made their choice. It was an unfortunate choice, one that hurt all parties involved.”

“I just don’t understand resorting to killing yourself because you can’t be with someone. Especially since they were both so young, with their whole lives ahead of them. How could they think suicide was the only way out?”

“I don’t understand it either.” Dafne tucked a strand of Rosaline’s hair behind her ear. “I know this is going to make me sound like a horrible person, but as soon as I heard, I just kept thinking that I was so glad Romeo chose Juliet instead of you. If anything happened to you…” She tugged her closer, hugging her again. “Never ever do something so stupid. Especially over a boy.”

“I learned my lesson,” Rosaline said. But then she thought of Bryson and everything she’d do for him. How much she’d give up if it meant being with him. How it physically hurt when she was away from him.

The knock on the door broke through her depressing thoughts. Dafne answered it, swinging open the door to reveal Bryson, Winslow, and Lawrence.

Dafne dabbed her eyes with a tissue and then gestured them inside. “Come on in. I’ll make us some breakfast and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do next.”

Bryson pulled Rosaline to the side and wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “How are you doing today?”

“A little better.” She ran her hands up his arms, soaking in his warmth. “But I’m starting to think that I’m the one who’s cursed. You should probably stay away from me before we’re doubly cursed.”

Bryson gave her a sad smile. “Maybe our curses will cancel each other out.”

She hugged him and whispered, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much.”

“Right back at you.”

All last night and this morning, she’d wondered again and again how Juliet and Romeo could get so wrapped up in each other that they’d do anything to be together. But here in Bryson’s arms, she could almost see it.

Lucky for her, she and Bryson had made a plan. They didn’t have to worry about not being together.

***

Every time Rosaline left, panicky doubt crept into Bryson’s mind, making him worry she wouldn’t be coming back. But now they had a plan. She’d complete her senior year of high school in Lowell, and he’d have his knee surgery and start at University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. It was a solid year plan.

So why do I have this awful feeling in my gut?

What was happening to her family was tragic—two deaths almost right on top of each other. And while he’d tried to convince her she had nothing to do with Romeo and Juliet’s deaths, he could tell she still felt guilty.

For about the fifth time today, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the photos he’d taken. There was Rosaline sitting in the garage, her feet kicked up on his toolbox. The next showed them frozen in a kiss.

It’d been less than a day since she’d left, and it already seemed like an eternity. He closed the photos and moved to his contact list. Since he didn’t have anything else to do, he might as well schedule his surgery. Then he could take comfort in the fact that Rosaline would be by his side, helping him through the long, boring days when he wouldn’t be able to walk.

Only with her, the boring part wouldn’t apply.