25. “Come night, come Romeo”

25

"Come night, come Romeo"

Now

When I come back to myself, I find myself bare ass on the floor, leaning against the chest in the hallway with Romeo's head on my shoulder. Post-nut bliss is over and reality hits hard.

"Oh God," I splutter as hot panic finds me. "Oh God, do you think anyone heard us?"

"Nah." He sounds relaxed like he's still floating and far away. "And besides, if anyone heard us, they'd have thought we were fighting, not fucking."

A small snort bursts out of me, and I quickly do my best to stifle it. It's a nervous giggle, but still, this is no time to laugh. What just happened is the furthest thing from funny I've ever been directly involved in.

"You better go," I say brusquely. "We can't be late for dinner. Your wife will be expecting us."

To say that the following meal is torment doesn't begin to describe it. Selby is not happy. The much-anticipated print for their bedroom has arrived and has not met her expectations.

"Dammit, Romeo," she says, with a fake laugh that reads more like fury. "You just had to go and look scared, didn't you?" Romeo does his best to look sorry, but I can tell his mind is drifting. She turns to me and explains, "Romeo has this thing where he looks scared in photos. Always. Every single time we hire a photographer, it's the same. Perfect scenery, great lighting, perfect pose, perfect me…but when you zoom in on his face, he has this vaguely petrified expression." She demonstrates what she means by freezing her eyes and pulling her lips back into a strange, square smile.

Ordinarily, I'd be inclined to point out that the best way to reduce people's anxiety around having their photographs taken is not to force them into situations where it's required of them, but given I just fucked her husband to within an inch of his life, I think I might let it slide.

I have a feeling I'm acting quiet and weird, not quite myself, but I'm not sure how to stop it. Can't remember how to act normal. Don't know if there is such a thing as normal when you've just done what I've done. It's a suspicion that's confirmed when Selby gives my shoulder a squeeze and says, "You okay? You look flushed. "

Right as she says it, I glance at Romeo and notice an angry pink smudge on his neck. A smudge I put there. With my mouth and teeth.

I almost have a heart attack on the spot.

I'm in the ring, sparring with terror and shame and a fuckton of guilt, and I'm losing. They gang up on me, jabbing at my sides and pointing fingers at me.

My ass is sweating profusely, and I seem to be done with quiet and weird. Sadly, loud and weird is where I've landed, which I think might be worse.

"So yeah," I drawl, though I'm a hundred percent certain I'm answering a question no one asked, "the cost of living in New York is high. It's not just rent. It's food and clothing and eating out and food and…"

Fuck, I glare at Romeo, help me!

"Can I get you anything, another drink?" he asks Selby, saving me from myself as seamlessly as if I'd asked him to do so aloud.

"Oh no. Sadly, I can't. I have a crazy week at work. Huge meeting on Wednesday, so I have to get some work done tonight." She does that little nose scrunch thing. "You can clean up though."

With that, she leaves the table, and Romeo and I are faced off alone.

"There's a mark on your neck," I hiss .

"I know."

The fucker's gone crazier than I am because he fucking smiles when he says it. Instead of pulling his T-shirt up to cover it, he arches his neck and runs the pad of his thumb over the mark I made on him.

It's terrible what it does to me. A rush of arousal. A rush of guilt. Then fear. Then shame.

Romeo gets up from the table, stiffening slightly as he straightens. There's a quick flicker of pain, a little wince followed by a dark grin.

Oh God.

He can feel where I was.

There's another hit of arousal. Wild and rampant now. A truckload of it. A mountain of it. There's more guilt too. Heaped doses of guilt. So much guilt I can't tell if I'm drowning or floating in it.

"Maybe, like, kind of…I think maybe I should start packing," I stammer.

"You really moving out? The house didn't look close to ready."

"It's, uh, it's ready enough."

"Hmm," he says with a wry smile. His eyes are on me again. Hot and hard like they were before. Like glass scraping my skin. "Good thing I know where you live, huh?"

Sweet Jesus .

He's going to be the death of me.

He follows me down the hall, steps as nimble and light as ever, hardly making a sound as he gains on me.

"Have you lost your mind?" I demand, spinning around and looking furiously toward Selby's study. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks.

I gape in disbelief. Literally nothing about his behavior has been obvious to me in years.

He moves closer. So close I can feel the heat of his skin through my clothes. His lips dust my neck and my earlobe. My whole body erupts into gooseflesh.

"I can't stay away from you," he whispers. "Believe me, I've tried."

His eyes are soft blue. Pale and as dreamy as I've ever seen them. He's Romeo again. Not angry Romeo. Not hard, unreadable Romeo. There are no masks between us at all. It's just me and my Romeo.

"Did I hurt you?" I whisper so softly I'm not sure he'll hear me.

He steps back so I can see his face clearly. "Yeah, Jude. You hurt me."

My gut clenches. It feels like I'm breaking. I hate hurting anyone, and though I'm not always successful, I try my best never to do it. I really do. The thought of hurting Romeo though, like that of all ways? It's unthinkable.

I'm about to begin a long and sincere apology when he continues, "You hurt me good." He closes the space between us again. "You hurt me so fucking good, Tiger. You killed me and brought me back to life."

He takes my hand in his, holding it almost chastely, and then he lifts it to his lips and kisses it where my thumb and forefinger meet. His lips are soft and warm. He kisses my knuckles as I watch, enchanted. He presses my fingertips carefully into his mouth and grazes each one with his bottom teeth. He holds my palm open and looks at it as if it's something he loves before turning his face into it and rubbing his cheek against it.

I can't move.

I can't talk.

A light kiss on the hand from Romeo, and I feel like I'm the one being killed and brought back to life.

"I'm going to come to you, okay? Tomorrow night, I'll come to you like the old days."

"Gguck," I manage.

I shut the guest room door a little more firmly than I intended to and lean heavily against it. Then my legs give way, and I slither bonelessly onto the floor.

It's the longest, most painful, torturous day in living memory. It's so bad that I don't even have it in me to get in Ian and the construction team's way. Dumb questions? No, sir, not one. Stand where no one is only to be smack in the middle of where they need to be two seconds later? Nuh-uh, not me.

I spend most of the day flat on my back on my bed, praying for nightfall. The fight to resist Romeo left me at some point last night when I was on the floor in his guest room. I know it's wrong what we're doing. I know that. I know it's a disaster waiting to happen. I know I'm probably going to get so badly hurt that I'll never recover. Or Selby will get hurt. Or Selby and I will get hurt.

I know that.

The thing is, I know something else too. I can't stay away from Romeo either.

By the time night draws in, I'm a different version of myself. I've had a cold shower—I have running water but not hot water. It's fine. It's no problem. In fact, when I think about it, maybe I should have been having cold showers since the second I got to Alabaster. Maybe I could have saved myself some of this anguish. Oh well. Too late for that now.

I've dressed, and I've eaten.

The only thing left to do is wait.

I wait and wait.

I wait until parts of my soul are chipped away and all that's left is a giant exposed nerve.

I wait until I'm positive he isn't coming. That I misunderstood him somehow. That he didn't mean it. That he loves Selby. That I hurt him in a bad way yesterday. That he's still ashamed of me and has remembered that about himself now.

My phone pings. I reach for it so fast I almost throw my back out.

The words that appear on my screen knock the breath out of me. The impact is unreal. It's like the last time I saw them. But this time, it's a resuscitation rather than a gut punch.

Is your window open?

I read the message three times, eyes misting up and hands shaking so badly I can hardly type my reply.

Always

It's the truth. It's truer than true. It was the truth then, and it's the truth now. Aside from one, maybe two, terrible hours the night of his wedding, it's a truth that's remained unshaken no matter how hard I've willed it to change. My window is open. It's open as wide as I can get it. A sill and a casing frame a black sky and an almost full moon.

I stay on my bed, sitting with my feet on the floor and my eyes closed, waiting until I hear that soft thud, the hollow clunk of big feet on the roof of my garage. I start shaking as soon as I hear it, and I don't mean trembling. I don't mean shaking a little. I mean shaking violently.

I know that, for better or worse, tonight is the night my life changes.

Romeo appears as if from out of thin air. The window is open one second with nothing but the night beyond it, and the next, his frame casts a dark shadow that draws the shape of him onto the moon. He ducks down and steps into the room in the same motion. Fluid and sure-footed as always.

I'm on my feet, floating into his orbit, stopping only when I'm standing before him.

"Romeo."

"Jude."

"Y-you came," I say dumbly .

He gives me one of those trademark Romeo shrugs. It's the best one I've seen yet. A single shoulder rises and curls toward me at the same time. Moonlight and stardust carve out his features, highlighting his brow and high cheekbones, his soft, fleshy lips, and the daydreamy eyes that inspired a thousand oaths all those years ago.

Simply put, he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

Neither of us blinks. We take each other in, eyes not leaving the other. He's fully dressed, but he looks naked. I don't know how I look, but I know I feel naked. Eventually, he half-closes his eyes and sighs softly. Then he lifts his T-shirt by the hem and pulls it off over his head. I allow myself a second to look. To appreciate what I'm seeing. His body is defined. Hard and lean with tiny nipples that look dusky in this light. Lines dip down his middle when he raises his arms.

He drops his T-shirt in a heap on the floor. I do the same. We lose the rest of our clothing the same way. He removes something, a belt, a pair of shoes, and offers it to me. I mirror his actions until we're both naked.

And fuck me, he's more beautiful now, if such a thing is possible. His skin shines silver and blue from the moon. He looks smaller and bigger at the same time. He's still the shy boy I fell in love with, but he's also a man. A man whose face is turning upward toward mine .

It's a soft kiss.

A gentle brush of his lips against mine. A whisper. A sonnet. A love poem I feel in my knees. His lips play with mine. A shallow kiss. A shallow kiss. And then one that's deep. Our tongues find each other. His. Mine. We kiss until we're lightheaded, and when we part, I keep one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Pulling him toward me, refusing to let him go.

There's a scarlet glint, a little flash as the light hits the sacred heart pendant around his neck. Romeo breathes in deeply as I take it in my hand and bring it up to my lips. When I release it, I follow the path of the chain with my fingertips, moving it out of my way gently, and kiss his neck. He moans on contact, and when I pull away, he looks at me in a way that makes my foolish, foolish heart break into a gallop. There are stars in his eyes, and for the first time in years, I allow myself to believe they're there for me, not just a reflection of the night sky.

I want it to be true so badly that I can't breathe. I can't speak. I can't move.

Maybe he sees it. Maybe he still knows me the way he used to know me—better than anyone else ever has—and knows I'm frozen because he takes me by the hand and leads me to the bed .

He lets go of me and lies back, moving the pillow under his head until he's completely satisfied with its position and then spreads his legs as I watch.

The urge to cry is overwhelming. Emotion rushes up my throat, stabbing at my jaw and stinging my eyes. He opens his hand toward me and I take it, knitting our fingers together, and I cover him with my body. It's instantly hot. Blazing. All the points where our bodies meet are on fire.

Our kisses are slow and languid as we reacquaint ourselves with each other. Our hands are everywhere. Mine are in his hair, on his arms, under his hips, pulling him closer to me. His are on my face, on my shoulders, and around my waist.

I'm lost and found. Everywhere and nowhere. All I know is him. His body. His taste. I forgot nothing and remember it all. I prep him gently, taking my time, making sure he's ready, and when he is, he rocks his hips to help guide me in. I'm holding myself up over him, looking into his eyes when I feel myself slide past his second ring. He winces and cries out, but he doesn't blink.

"Jude," he whimpers. " Jude ."

He winds his legs around my waist and pulls me inside. His neck arches back, and when I'm fully seated inside him, he raises his head off the pillow and nestles it into my neck, kissing hungrily as I start to thrust .

"Jude," he says again when we've been moving together for long enough that I can no longer remember a time before or after him. There's something course in his voice. Raspy like gravel. No, not gravel, salt. "You were right. That night, the wedding, you were right. It wasn't fucking. It was never fucking…" There's salt in his eyes now too, and he blinks it back as he looks up at me. "It was love. Always love."

A damn wall cracks and breaks open. Years of tears pour out of me. I'm inside him, in his arms, and he's in mine, and I'm sobbing. I'm shuddering in pain and confusion and relief and the deepest, most intense pleasure I've ever felt. I don't know how long we move together. I'm not completely aware of my body or even his. I'm aware of my soul though, and his. The essence of two people winding together. Over and under each other. Tighter and harder. Deeper.

Deeper and deeper.

Deeper until we aren't two separate things.

We're one.

The orgasm, when it comes, is cataclysmic. It's earth-shattering. Heartbreaking. It's the first time I've kept my eyes open at climax. His are open too. I look into them and see stars and galaxies and everything I've ever felt for him reflected back at me.

Afterward, a long time later, when we're still a tangled mass of limp arms and legs, but it's starting to dawn on me that I'm human, I say, "What the fuck?"

He gives a dry chuckle that sounds more like someone saying, "Huh," than an actual laugh. "That's pretty much exactly what I've been asking myself for the past five years." He's still on his back and my head is on his shoulder. I crane my head to get a good look at him, but he turns his away from me, averting his gaze. "I always knew you were full of shit, Jude."

His chest rises and falls beneath me several times. I want to push him, ask him, demand to know everything, but I know this is it. This is the conversation that decides the rest of our lives. Whether my heart beats or breaks. Whether I live or die.

"I knew there was no way you could stop bad things from happening to me. Obviously, no one can do that. Even at my worst, I knew it. I didn't expect you to stop all the bad things." He shakes his head to himself, and a silvery track glistens at the corner of his eye and streaks over his temple and into his hair. "I just never thought you'd be the bad thing."

I lift my head and move back a little, just enough to get a decent look at his face. "What do you mean? "

"We had that one perfect summer, remember? That one summer when we were together and things were good."

"I remember," I whisper. "I thought it would never end."

"I was happy. After my mom died, I didn't think I'd ever be happy again, but I was. That summer, God, I was so happy. It was all good, and then you went back to college, and everything got fucked. One second, everything was normal, and the next, you were telling me you were on your way to Cambridge. I called and messaged all the time, and you left me on read. I knew something was off, but I tried telling myself it was all in my mind and I was overreacting. I mean, you were busy. You were in a new country, right? There was a time difference. By the time you were due to come home, I'd almost managed to convince myself that nothing was wrong, and I'd imagined the distance between us. I was so fucking excited to see you. I called your mom three times the day before you arrived."

His lips turn down into a small, sad smile. "I called once to check what time you were landing even though your mom had sent me your flight itinerary a week before, and then I called to make sure they had space in the car for me even though your mom and your dad had assured me there was plenty of space, and then, because I was such a whipped jackass, I called again to double check what time you were landing. I was ready two hours before they were due to pick me up. I couldn't wait. I was almost out of my skin at the airport. I was watching the board and holding that stupid fucking balloon…"

He sits up and swings his feet onto the carpet, turning his back to me. His back is tense, tight muscles knotted under skin. I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder, though, from his body language, I think he might shake me off. He stills briefly and then leans into my touch ever so slightly.

"I know we weren't official or anything like that. I mean, we were always encouraging each other to kiss girls and that kind of thing, so maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised, and maybe I shouldn't have taken it so badly, but holy shit, Jude. I never dreamed you'd turn up with your new boyfriend on your arm. I swear to God, I never, ever thought you'd do that."

"Romeo, no! He wasn't—"

"Don't bullshit me, okay. I want to get past it, but I can't if you bullshit me. I know what it was. I asked him, and he told me."

"Wait, this is Benji, right? You're talking about the time Benji came home with me for Spring Break?"

He glares at me incredulously. "Yes, I'm talking about fucking Benji! Who the fuck else would I be talking about?"

"But, Romeo, Benji and I didn't…we were never—"

"Of course you were!" he booms. " I asked him! "

A terrible, crawling feeling rolls in my gut. Disbelief and horror morph into a slow realization that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "And what did he say?"

"His exact words were—" Romeo flashes his eyes and tucks an imaginary lock of hair behind his ear. He raises the pitch of his voice and adds a cloying nasal quality to it. It's a pretty good imitation of Benji, I have to admit. "‘ I mean, we're not official yet, but Judels has brought me home to meet his parents, so you know, it's pretty serious. '"

He grabs the blanket on the end of my bed and pulls it over his lap angrily, and he's quiet for a few beats.

"He told me not to tell you I knew. He said you wanted to come out to me yourself." Romeo sighs again and a tremor of old anger shakes his head slowly from side to side. "You were the worst, d'you know that? That vacation, you were the worst. You kept making these dumb jokes and talking crap all the time. You were acting like someone I didn't know. It took me a while to piece it together, but you were showing off for him, you dick. "

He turns his head, looking back at me over his shoulder with eyes laced with anger and pain. I sit up and move next to him, tightening my grip on him, digging my fingers into the meat of his shoulder. This time, he does shrug me off.

His eyes slide shut and his voice cracks. "I was holding a balloon, Jude." Anger wavers and ripples and turns to liquid. "I was holding a fucking balloon and"—his chest heaves—"and you turned up with your new boyfriend. I waited all break for you to tell me you were gay and dating him, and you didn't even bother to do that. And then you turned up at my window in the middle of the night and tried to kiss me?" His chest heaves and his breath comes in short, jerky gasps. "I was so angry I couldn't see."

"But, Romeo—"

" No! I'm still talking! I've spent fucking years thinking about this and trying to work out what the hell I could or should have done differently, and here's what I've got: I should have told you, okay? I know that. I should have told you I knew you liked guys. I knew you did, but when I asked, you said no, and I didn't know what to do with that. It was the only time I ever felt you weren't being truthful with me, and it threw me. I should have clarified though. Maybe I should have told you I didn't mind and still loved and supported you. Maybe that would have helped. I don't know. I couldn't think straight. I was so hurt and angry I felt violent. I don't know why the thought of you being with a guy upset me so much when you'd always been fine with me being with girls, okay? I don't know. Maybe it's problematic of me, but I've thought about it for years. I've tried everything I can think of to reason with myself, and it doesn't help. I'm still fucking upset about it. I'm jealous, Jude, and I guess I should have told you that too, so you'd have known what you were dealing with."

He winces as he says it and turns to me with a look that makes my hair stand on end. "I'm not just jealous. I'm jealous . Crazy jealous when it comes to you. The kind of jealous that makes me feel sick. Really sick. You were mine , Tiger." He grits his teeth and speaks through them. " Mine . I thought you knew that." He looks like he did that day after we'd been to the lake all those years ago, after I got bitten by mosquitoes and he took my wrist and held it as if it was his. Possessive. Domineering.

I feel the same now as I did then. A rush. A rightness.

He's right.

I was his. I am his.

I put my hand on his knee and wait until he looks at me. "Romeo," I say firmly. "Nothing happened with Benji. Nothing. I mean, he propositioned me a few times and grabbed my dick once when I was passed out, but other than that, nothing. Ever. "

Romeo leaps to his feet, flinging the blanket onto the floor and kicking it away from him as he searches for his jeans and pulls them on roughly, hopping on the spot as he zips up.

"Don't!" His finger is pointed an inch or less from my face. "Don't lie to me. I'm trying to get past this. I'm trying to find my way back to you, but I can't do that if you lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

An aquamarine gaze hardens, then softens. Advancing, retreating. Coming closer and holding me at arm's length. "I want to believe you," he says softly. "I really want to, but—"

I search my mind desperately for something, anything I can find that will prove what I'm saying. I find it at last. "I have something to show you."

I take out my phone and search for a long-forgotten contact. A person I haven't seen or spoken to in years. A person I didn't think was more than a minor character in my story. An extra. A walk-on with hardly any lines.

The message has been archived, so it takes a while to open, but when it does, I place my phone in Romeo's outstretched hand.

Don't ever touch me like that again. I love Romeo. I only want him

And I don't care if that makes me a dumbass

Romeo reads the message and drops heavily on the bed next to me. He rests his elbows on his knees, head bowed, as he reads it again. And again. I can practically hear the cogs of his mind grinding."Bu…why…how?" He's breathless and his hand is clamped over his mouth. "I feel sick," he says when the realization hits him fully. "I feel so sick…my life. My whole life changed because of what he said." He closes his eyes. It looks like he's praying, but I know he doesn't do that. "Your life too. And Selby's. Oh God, Selby's life too."

When his hands start to tremble, I cover them with mine, holding them tightly. He's shivering and is staring vacantly at the wall opposite my bed as tears roll down his cheeks. I pick up the blanket off the floor and drape it over his shoulders. When I pull him to me, he comes easily, going soft and melting into me as I hold him.

I hardly know what to say. I understand what's just happened. I do. I understand it in words. It's just that I can't feel it. I can't process it. I can't believe it.

Romeo loved me back.

And Benji, a person I thought was a friend, lied to him. A person I knew for a few months and then cut out of my life and never thought of again broke the best thing that ever happened to me.

And I hadn't even known it had happened.

Of all the reasons I thought we ended, and believe me, I've made an exhaustive list or five hundred in my time, Benji never even entered my mind as a contender.

"We should have talked more about what was happening between us." Romeo sniffs. "Don't think I don't know that. Don't think I don't wish we had because I do. I really, really fucking do. It's just…I couldn't. I didn't have the words then. I was so confused. Not when I was with you. When I was with you, everything was crystal clear, but when I wasn't with you, I didn't know who I was. I needed my mom." His voice cracks. "I needed to talk to her. She'd have known what to do. I didn't. I didn't know anything, not even who I liked. Or why I liked what I liked. And I'm sorry about that, okay. I'm really fucking sorry. I was twenty years old, and I was fucked up, and I didn't have my shit worked out yet, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"I know. You were ashamed of me, I get it."

His brows curve up sharply. "Ashamed of…Jude, no. I was ashamed of me. I was ashamed of who I was and what I liked. Ashamed of you? Never. I hero-worshipped you. I loved you beyond reason. "

It's everything I've ever wanted to hear, but I still can't feel it. Years of pain and betrayal roar in my veins. "Why'd you go and marry Selby then?"

"You mean aside from the fact you told me to?"

My entire body goes cold from the chill that runs through me. I remember my dorm room in Cambridge. The Darth Vader poster I had on my wall. The photograph of Romeo and me framed on my desk. I remember him saying, "She's dating to marry," and I remember the thing I've tried so hard to stamp out of my mind it hardly feels like it really happened at all anymore. My words. My voice saying, "Guess you better put a ring on it then."

"Yeah," I breathe, "aside from that."

"Selby was safe. That's what she was. Steady. The same every damn day. She told me she wanted me. You made me guess. You made me wait until I felt like I was losing my mind. Remember that summer, the good one? I'd try to outwait you. I wanted you so much I felt like I was dying. I'd make these little deals with myself. I'd say, Don't go tonight, stay home, and maybe tonight, he'll come to you . I'd tell myself, if he comes tonight, it means he wants you as much as you want him. It means he loves you. Just relax. He's Jude. He never lets you down. He'll come. But you didn't. You never came to me. Selby wasn't like that. She told me what she wanted with no hesitation. Hell, she told me where she wanted me to be and what she wanted me to do while I was there as well. There was no uncertainty at all. You'd always been my safe place, and right when you stopped feeling safe, right when you started feeling uncertain and scary, you shoved me into her arms and smiled like you hated me when you did it."

I don't answer. I swear to God, I don't know what to say. My chest aches, and I can't swallow the lump in my throat no matter how hard I try. Romeo keeps talking.

"I was scared. Growing up, I was a scared kid. I was a scared teen too. If I cared enough about my life anymore, I guess I'd be a scared man as well. A Little Bit Afraid of Everything, that's what my mom and I used to call it. We used to laugh about it together. She said that was how you rob fear of its power. Sometimes, it worked, but usually, I still had this gnawing feeling that something bad was about to happen. And then it did. You were there for me after she died. You were there for a lot of it, but you didn't see all of it. You saw my grief, and that was bad, but you didn't see my dad's. That was bigger than me. It was so big it terrified me. I…I used to get home early sometimes when he wasn't expecting me. You know, when a class or activity would end early…" His voice trails off as though he's unsure whether he should be saying what he's saying. " I'd get to the porch, and before I even opened the door, I'd hear it."

"Hear what?"

"Hear him crying. I mean, I guess you'd call it crying, though that's not what it sounded like. I don't think that's what it was. It was howling. It sounded like an animal that had been wounded. Nothing was normal and nothing was okay. We buried my mom, but my dad died that day too. I almost did as well. You were the one thing, Jude. The one good thing I had. The one thing keeping me together. When you came home with Benji, I was sick about it. I was so hurt it felt like I was being turned inside out, and as bad as that was, it wasn't the worst thing… The worst thing was the fear. It was physical. I can still feel it when I let myself think about it. I was so scared of losing you that I thought if you wanted to date other people, I should let you do it. I thought it was better to keep you as a friend than lose you altogether." He pauses for breath. "D'you remember the story of how my mom and dad met?"

I nod.

"Remember what my dad said about why he took so long to tell my mom he was in love with her?"

"Yeah." I remember it like it was yesterday. "He said he'd have been happy to be just friends for the rest of his life if it meant he'd get to spend time with her. "

Romeo blows a tiny gust of air out of his nose and nods. "I thought that was what was being asked of me. I thought I had to choose between keeping you as a friend or losing you altogether. And I chose friend. I thought I was doing this big noble thing, setting you free even though it hurt me, so we could stay friends."

"And then there was the wedding," I say numbly.

He nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "And then there was the wedding." He lets out a low, lost whistle. "And the reception. And you and me in the parking lot. I couldn't understand it. I thought I'd done everything in my power to keep you, yet, somehow, I still lost you. When I got your message, that last message from you…"

I know the message he means all too well. One word. Two letters, not six. My greatest act of self-harm.

"I felt trapped. Boxed in. Buried alive. I'd just agreed to spend the rest of my life with Selby, and it turned out you wanted me. I've never felt anything like that. Everything around me closed in, walls, doors, everything closed in, and I kept thinking of my mom. We put her in a box in the ground, so in a weird way, I figured it made sense for me to be in one too. You have no idea how long it took me to realize that she was dead when we did it, and I was still alive. "

It kills me that he's felt like this. It causes me physical pain that I feel in my bones.

For so many years, I tried to hate him. I'd think of him loving Selby and the pain of it nearly killed me. I thought there was nothing worse, but this is worse. Him loving me and thinking I'd betrayed him is worse.

"I thought you meant it when you said always," he sobs. "I really believed it. Nothing has ever hurt me like that last text from you."

My phone is still in his hand, his fingers limp, curled around it just enough to stop it from falling. I slide my thumb up and wake the screen.

I click on photos.

Then, I open a folder.

An unnamed folder.

A folder with one thousand six hundred and twenty-seven photographs in it.

His head jerks and his hand clenches tightly around my phone when he realizes what I'm showing him.

Photographs of windows. Apartment windows. Windows at work. Windows in restaurants and bars. Hotels. Lexi's house. My parents' place in Florida, and many more.

In every picture, the window is open.

When he stops scrolling, I do it for him, scrolling and scrolling all the way to the first photograph in the folder .

A photograph I took at the Lakeview Motel less than two hours after I sent him that message.

"I'm sorry," I sob, crushing him to me, knotting my fingers into his hair, and holding him as tightly as I can. "I didn't mean it. I was mad and hurt, but I didn't mean it. I could never mean it. For you, Romeo, my window is always open. Always. No matter what."

He strokes my hair out of my face and wipes my tears away with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes are bright red and his face is puffy and blotchy. It's not his best look, but he's still easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

His expression softens and his head tilts to the side. When he speaks, there's fear in his voice. And hope.

"Do you still love me, Tiger?"

"Oh, Romeo." My shoulders drop, releasing tension I didn't know I was holding. All the air leaves my lungs. I take his hands in mine and hold them against my chest as I breathe in. "Love isn't the word. You're my…"

I take my time to find the perfect words, the right words, words that will explain to him once and for all that my heart beats his name. His name only. His name always.

"To me, you're the night. The moon and the stars. You're the night. My knight. You're my best and worst nights. My first day and my last day. And if I have any choice in the matter, you'll be all my days and nights from now till I die." I lean in and kiss him, moaning and murmuring into the soft warmth of his mouth. "There has never been anyone else for me, Romeo. There won't ever be anyone else."

He goes limp against me, his head finding the hollow where my neck and shoulder meet and making its home there. "I love you," he says, lips and hot breath dancing on my skin. My heart feels like it's going to explode. Like it's going to burst. Like it's beating out of my chest. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

We lie down together and pull the covers over ourselves, and for a long time, all we do is repeat the same words back to each other.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Each time we do it I feel like I'm floating up, getting closer and closer to the surface.

"I love you," he says, and my lungs fill with air.

"I can breathe again," I say. "I was drowning, but now I can breathe."

"I was drowning too." He kisses me and presses his face into my chest. His arms are around me, legs too.

"Never again."

"No, never again. "

We talk in fits and starts about everything and nothing. We talk about big, heavy things that make us both grow somber and serious, and we talk about things that happened last week. What music I've been listening to, and what he's been reading. He tells me about the kids he teaches. Apparently, they call him The Mad Professor, and that makes me cackle. I tell him how Lexi and my parents are without leaving anything out, and I tell him about New York. I tell him everything. Important things, unimportant things.

"So, let me get this right, you're saying you have onion bagels with peanut butter for breakfast, Tiger?"

"Yep, best combo ever."

"Hmm, I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I'll get you one. You'll love it. You'll see."

Every so often we stop talking because we can't stop kissing. And then we stop kissing because we can't take our eyes off each other.

It's a shock when I notice the light in the room has changed. The black of night has faded. A new day has dawned.

"Shit," I say, suddenly sobered. "You better get going."

He checks his watch and gets out of bed. He dresses quickly in total silence. I watch him, unsure if I'm watching my life starting or ending. My heart is hammering in dread at the thought of him leaving, not to mention the thought of him going back to Selby.

When he's dressed, he leans over me and kisses my cheek.

It's the one thing we haven't spoken about. The shiny white elephant in the room, so to speak.

Maybe he sees the fear in my eyes or was going to say it anyway, but either way, he says, "I'm going to leave her."

My heart shifts gears. Fear to rampant, euphoric hope in under five seconds, only to be suddenly and spectacularly snuffed out by guilt so big and heavy it feels like a weight on my chest.

"It's not your fault, Jude," Romeo says quietly. "This is on me, not you. She has a big day at work, so I'm going to wait until she gets home tonight, but then I'm telling her it's over, okay?"