He takes my hand in his, holding it almost chastely, and then he lifts it to his lips and kisses it where my thumb and forefinger meet. His lips are soft and warm. He kisses my knuckles as I watch, enchanted. He presses my fingertips carefully into his mouth and grazes each one with his bottom teeth. He holds my palm open and looks at it as if it’s something he loves before turning his face into it and rubbing his cheek against it.
I can’t move.
I can’t talk.
A light kiss on the hand from Romeo, and I feel like I’m the one being killed and brought back to life.
“I’m going to come to you, okay? Tomorrow night, I’ll come to you like the old days.”
“Gguck,” I manage.
I shut the guest room door a little more firmly than I intended to and lean heavily against it. Then my legs give way, and I slither bonelessly onto the floor.
It’s the longest, most painful, torturous day in living memory. It’s so bad that I don’t even have it in me to get in Ian and the construction team’s way. Dumb questions? No, sir, not one. Stand where no one is only to be smack in the middle of where they need to be two seconds later? Nuh-uh, not me.
I spend most of the day flat on my back on my bed, praying for nightfall. The fight to resist Romeo left me at some point last night when I was on the floor in his guest room. I know it’s wrong what we’re doing. I know that. I know it’s a disaster waiting to happen. I know I’m probably going to get so badly hurt that I’ll never recover. Or Selby will get hurt. Or SelbyandI will get hurt.
I know that.
The thing is, I know something else too. I can’t stay away from Romeo either.
By the time night draws in, I’m a different version of myself. I’ve had a cold shower—I have running water but not hot water. It’s fine. It’s no problem. In fact, when I think about it, maybe I should have been having cold showers since the second I got to Alabaster. Maybe I couldhave saved myself some of this anguish. Oh well. Too late for that now.
I’ve dressed, and I’ve eaten.
The only thing left to do is wait.
I wait and wait.
I wait until parts of my soul are chipped away and all that’s left is a giant exposed nerve.
I wait until I’m positive he isn’t coming. That I misunderstood him somehow. That he didn’t mean it. That he loves Selby. That I hurt him in a bad way yesterday. That he’s still ashamed of me and has remembered that about himself now.
My phone pings. I reach for it so fast I almost throw my back out.
The words that appear on my screen knock the breath out of me. The impact is unreal. It’s like the last time I saw them. But this time, it’s a resuscitation rather than a gut punch.
Is your window open?
I read the message three times, eyes misting up and hands shaking so badly I can hardly typemy reply.
Always
It’s the truth. It’s truer than true. It was the truth then, and it’s the truth now. Aside from one, maybe two, terrible hours the night of his wedding, it’s a truth that’s remained unshaken no matter how hard I’ve willed it to change. My window is open. It’s open as wide as I can get it. A sill and a casing frame a black sky and an almost full moon.
I stay on my bed, sitting with my feet on the floor and my eyes closed, waiting until I hear that soft thud, the hollow clunk of big feet on the roof of my garage. I start shaking as soon as I hear it, and I don’t mean trembling. I don’t mean shaking a little. I mean shaking violently.
I know that, for better or worse, tonight is the night my life changes.
Romeo appears as if from out of thin air. The window is open one second with nothing but the night beyond it, and the next, his frame casts a dark shadow that draws the shape of him onto the moon. He ducks down and steps into the room in the same motion. Fluid and sure-footed as always.
I’m on my feet, floating into his orbit, stopping only when I’m standing before him.
“Romeo.”
“Jude.”
“Y-you came,” I say dumbly.
