Page 51 of From Rome, With Hate

I chuckle, my attention falling to her lips. I haven’t kissed her yet, despite my mouth being all over her outside. “Not a doctor. Just Rome.”

After standing, I place my arms under hers and lift her up. She turns, swinging her legs over the edge of the tub. She grips it hard and hangs her head between her shoulders.

“You okay?” I ask, moving around to the other side. I remove my shoes and sit on the tub opposite her.

“Yeah.” Her shoulders deflate as she looks down at her leg. “I shouldn’t have walked onto the bridge. I forgot how old it was.”

I pick up each of her feet and remove her shoes, careful with her injured leg. I turn the water on and wait for it to heat up before gently washing the blood from her leg. Thankfully, my makeshift tourniquet has stopped the bleeding now.

“I’ve told you a million times. I was nervous when you said you wanted to get married on that bridge, and that was ten years ago.”

“Call me silly but I thought it would be romantic.”

“It was but?—”

“We’ve never been the romantic type, Rome.”

Once the blood is mostly washed from her leg, I pour soap onto a washcloth and rest her foot on my knee, using the cloth to gently scrub around the cuts.

“I don’t know if I agree with that,” I argue.

She tips her head back in laughter, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her neck, which my hand was wrapped around earlier. I want to do that again but restrain myself. I don’t know where what we did outside put us, but I can’t count on it making any difference to the way she feels about me.Nothing good ever comes from diving headfirst into this pool with Julianna. It’s filled with ravenous sharks ready to eat us both alive.

“Was it romantic when I signed you up for an erectile dysfunction newsletter?” She raises her brows. “How about when you broke into my office and filled it with a zillion tiny, little shreds of lined paper?”

“Or writing an article in your brother’s magazine, defaming the reputation I’ve fought to build separately from my parents after what happened with them?” My hand hovers over her injuries while I eye her in silence.

She clamps her lips together and holds her breath.

When the silence is overwhelming, she finally scoffs and sighs. “Rome.”

She looks beautiful in the dim, golden lighting of the bathroom. The darkness of the evening has set in, and the sound of the rain outside is the only sound following my name passing her lips.

I shake my head, not wanting to rehash the article. I dropped the lawsuit, and although the main reason for bringing her here is to protect her, it’s still a form of retribution. Julianna would rather be anywhere in the world than trapped here with me.

I shove aside the guilt I feel for tricking her into coming here and focus on the cuts on her leg again, knowing she wouldn’t have them if it weren’t for me.

But behind the guilt is anger and resentment. Anger and resentment for the night I caught my wife on a date with someone I knew her father dreamed of having for a son in law, only days after we lost our entire future.

“Hey,” she utters quietly, pulling me from my thoughts. “I realized I never said I was sorry.”

I pinch my brow, drop the washcloth into the tub, and grab the first aid kit. “Sorry for what?”

“For what happened to your mom.”

I freeze. The air shifts. The wall I temporarily tore apart is slowly rebuilding brick by brick. My mother is a sensitive topic. Especially when it comes to talking about her with Julianna.

“It was a long time ago,” I mutter, grabbing a roll of gauze and medical tape.

“It was.” She nods, her saddened eyes softening. “Still… I never said it. And I should have.”

“How or why would you?” I close the first aid kit and drop it to the floor. “We agreed to live separately, and at that time, we were a little more disciplined about shutting each other out.”

“That may be, but I also know what it feels like to witness your mother’s murder.”

I hold my breath, resisting the urge to slip back into old habits with Julianna. I want to be the one to steal her empathy with a kiss and take it for myself. She’s always been kind in her own way. It’s something I didn’t see until that day in the library. But ever since the night our lives changed, I’ve wondered if I was wrong.

Perhaps my family’s warning was right all along: Capuletis do nothing but destroy.