“No,” he said. “I do not like the ending. That is no love story. That is a tragedy.”
“I beg to differ, Romeo. It might not have the happily-ever-after so many search for, but Romeo and Juliet had something that stood the test of time. Most people search their entire lives for that kind of love. A love worth dying for.”
“Perhaps,” he said, not convinced. “Have you found that kind of love? With this Brandon Stone?”
“You heard that?” Her eyes rose, making them seem much bigger.
“I hear all.”
“Oh.” The two of them stared at each other, before she cleared her throat. “My relationship with Brandon is none of your business. I don’t even know you.”
He smiled, but it had an edge—not truly friendly. He didn’t like that answer. Underneath his breath he said, “Tui fai.”You do.
It didn’t seem like either of them had noticed that their hands were still connected, and if they did, they made no move to pull apart.
“You will know me better,” Romeo said. “Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question. He led her away from us, toward the dance floor. A slow song played, couples swaying to the beat.
Eva looked toward them. “She was named after my grandmother. Her great aunt.” She sighed. “She’s as stubborn as they come and as loyal as can be. He’ll have a hard time convincing her Brandon is not the one meant for her.”
“He’s a pansy, Brandon,” Gabriel said. “Never liked him.”
“Doesn’t seem that way,” Violet said, smiling at the two dancing. “Beauchene’s as good as done. Where’s the proverbial fork?”
“No.” Eva shook her head. “He’s shocked her. For now. As soon as the dance is over, she’ll leave with Kari and her friends.” She nodded toward a group of girls, one of them staring at me. Kari, I assumed, since it was written across her shirt, followed by, Goes Wild in Ireland. “I know my cousin. She’ll fight it.”
“The best ones are worth fighting for,” I said, bringing Scarlett’s left hand to my mouth.
My wife turned from Romeo and Juliette, happier than I had seen her in a long time. She knew he felt something. Therefore, he was connected.
I had met my quota of people for the night, so I led Scarlett outside in search of fresh air. It felt good in contrast to the stifling pub. The burn of whiskey against the coolness made me feel like I could breathe fire. Her hand jingled in mine, in time to the anger I attempted to abate with the air and the walk. The more I thought about our situation—from all sides—the more frustrated it made me.
She stopped me after a few minutes, taking my other hand in hers, leaning against me, palms forward. The stars were reflected in her eyes, specks of ancient light fossilized in emeralds. “Are you disappointed that Romeo met his Juliette?”
I shook my head. “No. If she’s his rib, I’m glad she brought it home.”
“His rib?” Her mouth twitched.
“Yeah, you brought mine home and made me complete. Made me a whole man.”
“I doubt that. You were a man long before I ever came along.” Then she smiled. “I love that, though. The idea of it. That you feel that way.”
We kissed, slow and easy, savoring the taste of each other. We pulled apart at the same time, and she whispered, “All right, now that you have no missing ribs to send my way, what are you going to do?”
“Is that what you thought I was doing?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I know it was.”
“You’re mine,” was all I could say. “I have to make sure that you’re taken care of, even if I’m not here. I couldn’t rest easy, not knowing.”
“Shh,” she put her lips to mine. “I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me,mio angelo. Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I’m going to keep you safe.”
“All right. What else?”
“Then we’re going to get our group from the pub.”
