Page 38 of Roman and Jules
With a quick movement, Roman knocked the door shut with his elbow and ran his hair back from his face. What was wrong with him? And still, if he cared anything about Jules, he’d do this—every excruciating part of it.
He picked up his phone and wrote out his last text to her.“You want me to prove my love to you? Invite Ty to your Halloween performance. If you don’t, I will.”
His next move was a call to Father Lawrence. The officiator at the Chapel del Frate had tipped off the paparazzi about Roman and Jules’s nuptials the month before, and Roman had no doubt he’d do it again if the story was juicy enough. They’d need cameras there at this concert. Lots and lots of cameras, even if their toxic presence would poison whatever regard Jules had left for him.
That was what love was all about.
Chapter 17
Jules ran her fingers down her guitar backstage, picking out the notes for her performance and singing a few lines here and there to warm up. The fake ring that Roman had given her flashed through the darkness, and she stopped playing to stare at it. She hadn’t returned it yet and Roman hadn’t asked for it—not that he would. Though it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn, it was most likely cubic zirconia diamonds. There was no excuse to keep wearing it.
Marshall and Nan were doing their own pre-performance rituals, though their instruments were already out on the Curtain Theater stage, tuned and ready to go for the night. Angelica roamed around them, finishing last minute business details.
The voices from the audience were muffled behind the curtain. It brought a rush of excited anticipation… well, it usually did. Jules felt none of that tonight.
Mercutio pawed at her studded cowgirl boots. The young pup still wasn’t used to being alone in her strange apartment, so she’d taken him along to the concert. He’d grown to at least sixty pounds during these past weeks, not a third of what he’d be when he was an adult, of course, but it was still substantial for a four-month-old Great Dane.
Reaching down to scratch his ears, she took comfort in his friendly face and soft fur. Jules should’ve returned Mercutio now that she’d calmed down, but something stopped her—she couldn’t bear to part with Roman completely, and losing Mercutio felt so final. Maybe that meant she was in denial, but tonight Jules had even worn the same blue dress she’d married him in. Jules had no idea why she was torturing herself like this.
Breathing heavily, she slid his ring off and rolled it through her fingers. She had to forget him. Losing herself in the band wasn’t doing it. Every day of not seeing Roman was just another day of missing him. A part of her felt shriveled and gone, like she’d traded her voice to an ocean witch for legs, and after sacrificing everything, she’d lost the man anyway.
It was why she didn’t answer his texts. How could she? Why would he even suggest inviting Ty to her performance? No way. She was done with his cousin. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel more hurt, but a fresh wave of it had threatened to smother her when she’d realized he’d done it to try to get rid of her. She’d been such a fool—playing house with Roman, daring to believe they had a future. A man who’d go to such lengths for revenge wouldn’t care about her. He’d play with her heart and he’d leave her as soon as he got bored. The horrible thing was that she’d never once suspected it.
She’d made some bad choices too. Roman’s defense still rang in her ears. When Ty didn’t treat her the way he should, the only acceptable thing to do was to leave him—no ultimatums, no tricks, just open communication. But yes, she’d been lonely and desperate… and angry. And Roman had used that to his advantage—she knew that now. Her second mistake? Not realizing what marriage to Roman would do to her.
His ring dug into her closed fist and she opened her hand and sighed before putting it back on. She loved him now, but it was too late.
The MC onstage announced PotPan, and the crowd clapped its appreciation as Jules came out with her other band members under a shower of dripping sparks. The Curtain Theater was known for their light shows that rivaled even Vegas’ finales of fireworks on the Fourth of July. Entirely engineered from smoke and mirrors, their illusions were a trick of the eye meant to dazzle their crowds in a breathtaking display of spectacle and music.
The singers weren’t meant as the main attraction, but because of Roman, PotPan had become a household name during these past couple months. The crowd whistled and stood as Jules and the others picked up their instruments and started their performance. The lights sparkled, swimming through the air, at times riveting and terrifying like a lightning storm or gentle like the fountains of the Bellagio. They followed the rhythm of Jules’s songs, melding into PotPan’s haunting sounds of strings and synthesizers.
About halfway through the show, it was time for Roman’s song. It had been in the set long before she’d left. Jules took a deep breath that echoed through her microphone and into the auditorium. As soon as the opening notes began, the crowd let out a cry and scrambled to their feet, swaying to the music of “Never say goodnight; isn’t it a good night?”
Word had leaked that the song was about Roman—that was possibly Angelica’s doing. The lights brightened, like the engineers had held back their flashiest creations for his song. The words were meant to be lighthearted, but somehow they’d always turned more romantic and heartfelt. This time was no exception. She’d never sung it with such passion; her loss spilled from her heart and bled all over the stage. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. The lights shifted into blues and pinks like the sky during the setting sun, making the pain of losing Roman feel like it was happening again.
Somehow the song ended, and the lights sparkled like the froth of a sea until it faded away into the blackness of the stage. Jules didn’t know if she would ever be able to get over that man. She put her guitar down with a sigh. The performance wasn’t close to done, but she needed a break. At least water.
A part of her realized that the light show hadn’t resumed like they’d done in practice, just as a spotlight snapped on. A small girl in a white dress came out onto the stage with a bouquet of orchids, like the ones she’d gotten from Roman on her wedding night.
Her chin snapped up. These weren’t from him, were they? She took the flowers from the child and stared over them into the darkness to see Tyson Bolt. He stood backstage near the curtains. Why had the stage managers allowed it? They wouldn’t. A disruption like this would’ve been a producer’s decision. They were obviously going for the hype and they weren’t wrong. The audience was totally into it. A swarm of paparazzi formed near the mouth of the stage. It all felt planned.
Jules’s gaze shot to Angelica standing behind the curtain. “I’m sorry,” her stage manager mouthed at her.
The little turncoat.
All the sentimental feeling from Roman’s song was gone the instant Ty crossed over the planks of the stage. “Forgive a fool?” he asked through a microphone.
Jules was stunned into silence; she had to give it to him—this was so out of his comfort zone, not that he wasn’t a stranger to the spotlight with all his charities and political causes.
“You told me you wanted a man who loved you above everything,” he said. “Remember? Well, I do, Jules, I remember every word you’ve said like it’s a part of me.”
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him—it wasn’t too hard to remember since it had been plastered to the tabloids for days. And yet, for Ty to say such a thing in front of all these witnesses? If he’d done so months ago, none of this would’ve happened.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, “and yes, I’d give it all up for you. You want to matter to me? Remember? You said that too. Well, you’re my life, Jules. These months apart I’ve seen that, and all I can think about is that Chapel del Frate that we passed on the way to that party, and I wish that I’d told that driver to stop and we’d just made it official. Remember that place, Jules?”
How could she not? Ironic she’d been trying to forget Ty when she’d married his cousin there, and now Roman was the one who haunted her every thought.
“Let’s go there now,” he said. “Right after the show, leave everything else behind us.”
