I gathered my hair and twisted it into a rope to get it off the back of my neck, and just for a second, the dark brunette hair coiling around my wrist surprised me, like I’d jumped into someone else’s body because I bleached my hair blond, spending two Saturdays a month dabbing at my roots.
The Lazuli spa and Clementine’s approval floated into my head.
Because I was a brunette.
I was reclaiming brunette.
And I felt a little more likemeagain.
Things change.
There is always a corner you can turn.
Everything had changed for me.
When I rolled over, Nicolai’s eyes were open, and he was watching me from where he’d been sleeping on his stomach, his arms crunching up the pillow under his face. His midnight black hair was tousled from sleep.
His voice was rough, and he half-smiled groggily. “Good morning, my wife.”
I snuggled farther under the covers even though sunlight was peeking around the dark shades. “Good morning, my husband.”
His slow smile reached his bright blue eyes, and he reached with one strong arm, locked it around my waist, and dragged me across the sheets to nestle next to him. He whispered, “I rented out the Juliet House before operating hours begin to reenact our purported meeting. We should probably rise to meet the day.”
But he didn’t release my waist from his grasp, and I didn’t want to move, either.
CHAPTER 27
casa di giulietta
NICOLAI
We walked toward Juliet’s House the next morning, strolling through the narrow streets that laced the old town like an anthill. Those one-horse carriage lanes were now sidewalks where tourists usually throng, gazing in the windows at the tourist baubles, clothes, or mountains of sweets.
But at eight o’clock in the morning, we had the cobblestone pedestrian malls mostly to ourselves.
Lexi skipped steps, almost dancing, her mahogany hair bouncing with dark curls that drew my gaze every time she moved, as she stared up at the ancient buildings around us.
That night, we would go to the Verona Arena, the city’s well-preserved Roman amphitheater, to watch the operaLa Bohème.The Shakespeare Festival wouldn’t begin until late July, so we would return for that.
Our security guards fanned out as we walked along the Via Cappello, and so Lexi and I walked hand-in-hand, pretending to be normal people. Most of the shops and take-away restaurantshadn’t yet opened for the breakfast crowd, though I did manage to find one cafe catering to locals and bought us pastries and cappuccinos.
As I’d suspected, Lexi was entranced by the medieval old town of Verona. Her joy was infectious, and I found myself laughing aloud as we looked around.
Oh, if we’d only met like this, everything would have been easier.
When we reached the Casa di Giulietta, Juliet’s House, we stood on the street outside the first set of gates, waiting for the docent to twist the key in the iron lock to open them for us.
A few tourists clustered near the sweets shop, watching us. They were doubtlessly discussing whether they could also sneak into the crowded tourist attraction before opening hours.
No, it was open for just my wife and me.
“Can I go on inside first?” Lexi asked. “Surely, if you saw me for the first time when you were in the courtyard and I was on the balcony, I must have already been inside Juliet’s house when you walked in.”
“That’s logical.” The courtyard was enclosed on all sides by other medieval buildings, none of which were open to the public yet.
No one else had been let inside.
Of course, she would be safe in the locked, inaccessible courtyard surrounded by thirty-foot medieval walls.
