Page 115 of The Hundred Loves of Juliet
Across the street at the café behind me, a steel chair scrapes against the cobblestones. I turn, and an elderly gentleman sips his espresso, watching me.
He raises his cup and toasts me. “You found secret,” he says in broken English.
“I’m sorry?”
He gestures at Sebastien’s house. “Tourists go to so-called‘Romeo’s house’ on Via Arche Scaligere. But they no know where Montague family move after big tragedy.” Again, he points at the manor in front of me.
I take it in with even more interest than before.
“Does anyone live there now?” I ask. I wonder if this man is actually aware of who Sebastien is.
But the man shakes his head. “Airbnb. Very sad. Italy’s history…poof!” He makes a fist and bursts it open to illustrate his point. Then he picks up his newspaper and begins to read. Apparently, his disapproval of modern capitalist greed is the final tidbit he has to contribute to our conversation.
I smile to myself, though. I know more of the secret of this manor than he does.
One of the sets of French doors on the second story opens. A handsome, blue-eyed man with a mess of dark hair steps out onto the balcony, wrapped in a plush robe. A jolt of electricity vibrates thrillingly through my bones.
Suddenly, though, I remember the date. Today is the tenth of July.
For a second, I don’t breathe.
But this doesn’t count, does it? Sebastien and I have already met in this lifetime.
And it doesn’t feel like a day for a curse to strike. It feels like a day for sunny beginnings and clean breaks from the past.
I believe the curse is broken,I remind myself.
Then I take a deep breath, and everything starts to feel like it’s in the right place again. Including me.
Sebastien hasn’t seen me yet. I shake off thoughts of today’s date, smile, and call out, “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”
At the sound of my voice, Sebastien turns to the street below. His eyes brighten with joy, like glaciers basking in a never-ending summer. “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”
Behind me, the elderly gentleman snorts, all prior respect for me evaporating. Living in Verona, he’s probably heardRomeo and Julietrenditions beneath balconies a thousand times.
Not from the originals, though.
I laugh. God, it feels good to be back, to banter with Sebastien again. This is where I belong.
“You know,” he says, leaning over the balcony railing, “we have the order of Shakespeare’s lines backward. Romeo is supposed to speak first,thenJuliet.”
“We also got the blocking of the scene backward,” I say. “I’m pretty sureI’mthe one who’s supposed to be in the balcony, and you’re supposed to be down here.”
“Fair point,” he says. “Does that mean you’re going to scale the building now, to be with me?”
I look down at my six-month-pregnant belly, then up at him again. “Odds don’t look good. Besides, then I’d have to sacrifice the cornetti.” I hold up the bakery box.
“Why didn’t you say so?” Sebastien reaches into the pocket of his robe, retrieves a key, and drops it over the railing. It lands squarely on top of the bakery box. “Use that and come in through the front door properly. But walk slowly. Whatever you do, you must protect the cornetti.”
I laugh again. And then I run inside.
SEBASTIEN
As Helene steps inside themanor, I hurtle down the marble staircase. I had thought her beautiful before, but now she’s truly luminous in the foyer of the Montague manor, the spark in her eyes and the gaiety radiating from her like a ring of light. I think I was wrong about Romeo and Juliet, because this looks a lot like happily ever after.
I begin to scoop her up, but the bakery box almost falls from Helene’s hands.
She lets out a small yelp. “Careful! The cornetti!”
