Losing Romeo (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Palm trees jutted into the cloudless sky, and the harbor stretched into the ocean. It seemed like a lifetime ago she’d lived here, even though it’d only been six weeks. A month ago, Rosaline would’ve killed to be back in Verona. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she’d hated leaving Bryson at the airport.

After miles of nothing but land, trees, and long stretches of empty two-lane roads, Verona felt crowded. Were there always this many cars? And were the lanes always so close together? Rosaline frowned at the car next to them, flinching as it shot past and cut off the car just ahead of them.

At least the ocean-fresh scent filled the air. Rosaline still couldn’t believe she’d convinced Dafne that renting the convertible Mustang was the way to go.

“It’s just up here, third one on the right,” Rosaline said, pointing at Clara’s house. Another thing she’d talked her aunt into. Mom and Dad might still be in restriction mode, and she desperately needed to see her best friend.

Dafne got out of the car and looked around, a mixture of awe and sorrow playing across her features. “It’s been a long time. And yet, I still feel unprepared.”

Rosaline draped her arm over Dafne’s shoulders. “You’ll be okay. You’ve got me to help you through it. And don’t act like that’s not the best news you’ve heard all day.”

Dafne smiled, but it was weaker than her usual smiles.

Clara burst out the front door of her house and bounded down the steps. Rosaline rushed toward her, meeting her halfway. They hugged, speaking over the top of each other, then answering each other at the same time, a month and a half of missed conversations coming out all at once.

“I missed you so much,” Rosaline said, giving Clara another hug. Now that she was with her best friend, Verona felt like home again. “You remember my Aunt Dafne? She was at Papa Capulet’s sixtieth birthday party, what, four years ago now?”

“Five.” Dafne clenched her jaw. “That was when I decided I wasn’t coming back until our family got over their stupid grudge with the Montagues.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think all chances of that are gone now.”

With that sobering sentiment hanging in the air, the three of them walked toward the boardwalk. Nothing like staring at the ocean to calm your troubles.

Dafne walked ahead of her and Clara, the breeze catching her hair and swirling it around her face. Despite the stress that’d hung off her aunt since they’d heard the news, her shoulders relaxed a bit—the magic of the beach.

Rosaline inhaled another breath of air and hooked her arm through Clara’s. “How are you? Better today?”

“Not really,” Clara said. “Why’d it have to happen, Roz? Why?”

“I don’t know. I wish it hadn’t.”

They walked in silence for a little while, then Clara nudged Rosaline. “Tell me some good news. You were with Bryson last night, so I’m guessing you finally got the courage to ask him out.”

“I did. And he said no.”

Clara’s jaw dropped.

“I actually got mad about it, but then he kissed me—and let me tell you, the boy can kiss.” The memory of that kiss, and of all the ones that followed sent pleasant shivers across her skin. “Then he showed up at the dance, even though he never goes into town. He’s funny, and I’m myself around him, and somehow that hasn’t scared him away. He taught me to ride horses and motorcycles.”

“Horses and motorcycles?” Clara arched an eyebrow. “Are you turning into a country girl on me?”

“I think I might be.” She sighed. “There’s definitely something about country boys. Bryson knows how to fix stuff, and the way he talks to his horses makes me want to hug him and never let him go, and like I said, the kissing is amazing. He’s amazing.” Rosaline’s stomach did a somersault. “I’m so crazy about him I can hardly breathe when he’s near.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet. Describe him. I want all the details.”

“Long, dark hair. Tall. Devastating smile. Deep blue eyes.” A month ago, she would’ve mentioned the scar and the cane, but she’d gotten to where she hardly noticed them. They were part of Bryson and didn’t matter to her, but she wasn’t sure what Clara would think, so she left them out. “Oh, and he gave me this…” She dug the pink phone out of her purse. “He said it made him think of me, and since I needed a phone, he got me one.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper. Much better than Romeo.” Clara shook her head. “Can you imagine? He’s out there somewhere, running from the cops.”

“Have you seen Juliet?”

“I heard she’s holed up in her room crying. Her parents think it’s over Ty.”

Rosaline couldn’t even imagine what Juliet must be going through. “That must be hard. Hiding it. Knowing Romeo’s out there somewhere, going through hell.”

“Hey! Capulet girl!” The yelling came from behind them. Angelica Montague, the woman who ran the clothing boutique on the boardwalk and wife of Dafne’s former flame Stefan, came charging toward Rosaline and Clara.

“You’re not welcome here!” Angelica jabbed her finger at Rosaline. “You and your family have ruined this town! Ruined my family!”

For a moment, Rosaline could only stare, shocked she was being attacked. “Look, what happened is tragic, but we’ve both lost loved ones.”

“Yeah,” Clara said. “And we were friends with Romeo and Mercutio. We’re friends with your brother-in-law Ben, too. You can ask him.”

Anger pinched Angelica’s features, and her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re no friends. You’re as good as a Capulet, too, little Fitzgerald. None of you are welcome in my shop.” She took a large step forward, looming over them. “Stick to the north side. We don’t want you here.”

“What’s going on here?” Dafne asked, stepping in front of Rosaline so Angelica had to back up.

“Dafne Capulet.” Hate dripped from Angelica’s words. “You come crawling back into town to support your murdering family? You should’ve stayed away. You should all leave Verona! I curse you and your family.” She spit at Dafne. “Get away from my store.”

Fury rose to the surface, a hot, overpowering burst that sent Rosaline’s temper flaring. “No one wants to shop at your crappy-ass store! Go back inside and leave us alone.”

Angelica lunged at Rosaline, but someone held her back. Stefan had apparently heard the fight and come to contain his wife. She screeched, but he held tight. “Calm down, Angelica. I’m sorry,” he said, turning his gaze on Rosaline. Then it moved to Dafne. His posture went rigid, and all the color drained from his face.

“Dafne.” He spoke her name with reverence and agony.

“Stefan.” Dafne stared right back at him, all while he was restraining his now-swearing, flailing wife.

“It’s probably best if you ladies keep north for now. Too many people have already been hurt, and I’d hate for anything to happen to you. Any of you,” he added, but his eyes never left Dafne.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go.” Dafne pushed them back the way they’d come.

They walked several blocks before Clara broke the silence. “What is it with you Capulet girls and Montague boys?” She looked from Rosaline to Dafne.

“It’s Mercer boys for me and Dafne now,” Rosaline said, wrapping an arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “We’re getting away from the drama, right?”

“Right. Away from the drama.” Dafne’s voice was monotone, carefully emotionless. “We better get home, Rosaline.”

They quickened their pace and headed back to the Fitzpatricks’. After they said goodbye to Clara, Rosaline and Dafne got into the car and rode toward the Capulet neighborhood, where at least they shouldn’t be attacked in the street. But the air was heavy with grief, anger, and an all around sense of unease.

Clearly, life in Verona was never going to be the same again.

***

The sun shone on the sea of black-clad people, apparently unaware that today wasn’t a happy day.

Every time Rosaline shifted, her heels sunk into the damp grass. Two and a half days of mourning seeped into her soul, making her feel like no joy existed in the world anymore. Juliet’s mom, Aunt Gloria, and Aunt Simone, Ty’s mother, clung together, their cries cutting through the priest’s final words.

“May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

“Justice will be served,” Gloria said to Simone. All day yesterday, the family had demanded justice for Ty. Papa Capulet was forever on the phone with the police, asking when they were going to do their job and arrest Ty’s murderer.

The entire time there, Rosaline had drifted from one grief-stricken relative to the next, all of it so surreal. But the casket. The grave. Nothing was surreal anymore. Reality dug its sharp talons into her soul, happiness seeping out of the holes it’d left behind. She wiped tears off her cheeks and started toward her parents. So far she’d managed to avoid having a big conflict with them, but she could feel it coming, more suckiness right there on the verge.

Halfway there, she spotted Juliet. All the bitterness from the other family members caught up with her, and she found herself wanting to throw accusations.
How could you be with a guy who killed your cousin? Do you see what your relationship’s done to us all? Do you know where Romeo is?

She knew Ty was no angel, but now he was dead. How could Juliet continue to protect Romeo?

Then Juliet lifted her puffy red-rimmed eyes to Rosaline’s face. Heart-wrenching agony swam behind her tears. All Rosaline’s anger melted away, replaced with overwhelming concern for the broken girl.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Ty’s loss has been hard on us all,” Juliet said. Automatic. Rehearsed.

“Not with Ty.” Rosaline leaned in and whispered, “I know you were dating Romeo.”

Juliet’s eyes widened. “It was self-defense, you have to know that. Romeo tried not to fight Ty, but what was he supposed to do after Ty killed Mercutio? Romeo loved Mercutio.”

Rosaline thought back on the times she’d been around Romeo and Mercutio. They were like brothers. “I know. And I know he’s not usually violent.”
Usually, he’s too busy sweet-talking the ladies.

“I love him.” Tears streamed down Juliet’s cheeks. “I just want to take him and cut him out in little stars. Make the heavens shine with his wonderful face. Then all the world will be in love with night and despise the glaring sun as I do.”

Wow. She spouts poetic nonsense, too. She and Romeo really do go together.
All this time, Rosaline thought she’d lost Romeo—that if she’d done something different, he’d be hers. But he was never hers, she never loved him, and because of everything that’d happened with him, she now knew what it was like to be with someone who actually cared about her.

Romeo going off with Juliet the night of that party has ended up being one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.

Because when you knew, you knew. You didn’t love someone because they were perfect. You loved them because they made you better and happier. Because thinking of life without them by your side was painful.

Rosaline never thought it would be possible to sympathize with Juliet—and especially not the jackass she was so in love with. But suddenly, she understood why Juliet was willing to risk so much.

She glanced around to make sure they were still out of earshot of everyone. “It’s clear how much you love him, and I admire for you standing by him, even in all this mess.”

“When I suggested to my parents the whole fight with Ty was self-defense, my mother told me I’d better stop talking foolish nonsense or I’d find myself married to my grave. She and my dad are trying to push this Paris guy on me, like it’s the 1600s or something. When I told them I wouldn’t date him, my mother scolded me for being ungrateful. My father said I could scrounge for food in the street if I didn’t want his help.”

“Jeez, harsh much?”

“Romeo and I were going to build a life together, one where I wasn’t talked down to. I’ve never felt real love like he showed me.” Juliet threw a hand over her heart. “I miss him so much I can hardly breathe. It was love at first sight, and I’ll love him until I die.”

Rosaline thought of the exchange between Dafne and Stefan. Yes, they’d both moved on in ways, but their feelings were still there, lingering near the surface, mixed with longing and regret. Juliet’s parents were awful, and no one should be talked to like they’d talked to her. She deserved to have unconditional love in her life, and obviously Romeo loved her.

Rosaline grabbed Juliet’s hand. “You find a way to be together, and you go for it, no matter what it takes. Don’t let our family’s stupid grudge tear you two apart.”

Juliet threw her arms around Rosaline, hugging her tight. “Thank you so much for understanding. I know he’s got a friend helping him, and I’m going to get a message to him. I won’t give up. We’ll find a way to be together.”

“Good luck.”

“Juliet, there you are.” Uncle Marco stepped up to his daughter, a man who had to be in his early twenties next to him.

Rosaline left them to talk, but as she walked away, she heard Marco say, “Paris wanted to give you his condolences, and I assured him you’d want to ride home with him.”

Wanting to help all she could, Rosaline offered a quick prayer to Saint Valentine, asking him to help Romeo and Juliet find a way to be together.