Page 34 of His Juliet

Now it was my turn to snort. “You got me. I spend my nights building an island or whatever the fuck you do in that game.”

“I’ve actually never played it, but it looks fun. What do you have going on tomorrow? I realized I’ve never asked what you do for work.”

“I’m the CFO of a real estate company.”

Don’t ask me the name of the company.

“You have a desk job? That’s the last thing I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I was guessing CIA agent or secret spy or something.”

My insides twisted at how close her guess was to the truth. Except I was on the other side of the law.

I forced a laugh. “Nah, just a desk job for me. But it gives me lots of opportunities for brooding.”

“I’m sure the office loves that.”

An uncomfortable sensation rose in my chest at having to lie to her. I wanted Juliet to know the real me, but could she ever accept me the way I was?

“What keeps you up so late?” I asked, switching the subject.

“I’m not sure.” Her voice was low and there was an edge of vulnerability in it. “I’ve been like this most of my life. It’s like my body doesn’t want to let me sleep.” She took a deep breath. “Sometimes I have bad dreams.”

“I’m sorry, angel.” I had nightmares, too, but that seemed too vulnerable to share. “Anything I can do?”

“No, but it’s sweet of you to ask.”

“Not many people call me sweet.”

“Must be because they don’t know you well enough.”

I wished that were true, but unfortunately, I feared the opposite. The closer people got to me, the more clearly they saw my inner darkness.

“You should try to sleep. You’ve got a bookstore to run.”

Juliet hummed. “Thanks for calling. This was nice.”

That brought a smile to my face. “Sweet dreams.”

“You, too, Romeo.”

17

JULIET

Romeo

Happy Thanksgiving

Any plans today?

I jumpedwhen my phone vibrated. Only one person texted me these days, and my heart was already pounding as I pulled it out from the couch cushions where it had fallen.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when I saw Romeo’s text. We hadn’t talked at all since two nights ago when he’d accidentally called me. I kept running over our conversation in my mind… the low, soothing way he’d saidsweet dreams.

They hadn’t been sweet that night or the following. They never were. But when they ripped me from sleep, I’d replayed our conversation in my mind, trying to memorize his words.

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