Sweet Home

“What?” he asked stiffly.

“I’m the naïve Juliet Capulet, risking it all to have dinner with the Montagues.”

He rolled his eyes. “Juliet wasn’t f**kin’ foolish enough to risk that. They just ran away and got married instead—good plan. But my version of Juliet decides that meetin’ her mortal enemy will help our cause. We’ll soon see if that’s true, but I want it noted right now that I think this a f**kin’ stupid idea.”

I hated seeing him so apprehensive.

He cleared his throat. “One thing’s definitely the same though.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I feel for you what Montague felt for Juliet.” He intertwined his fingers with mine. “I’d give it all up for you too.”

I laid my head back on his shoulder, watching through the windscreen as the tired sun dropped low in the sky. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. Nothing his parents could say or do would drive me away.

Nothing.

* * *

Romeo and I climbed up the steep stairs of the huge, sprawling white-columned plantation house still clasping each other’s hands. Mine were trembling, but Rome didn’t say anything. He just kept tight hold.

We reached the door and he turned to me. “First, you look gorgeous, baby.”

“Thank you.”

“Second, remember what I said. Don’t let them hurt you. No matter what.”

I crossed my heart with my finger and just as he went to knock, the door flew open to reveal Romeo’s ultra-glamorous fifty-something, blond bobbed-haired mother wearing a red twin set suit and pearls, clutching an extra-large whiskey, the strong smell nearly making me retch.

Her ruby-red lips curled into a cruel snarl as she stared at Romeo, completely neglecting to acknowledge my presence. “You’re late.”

Romeo stiffened. “Mother. Always a pleasure.”

Mrs. Prince grimaced in disgust. “Shame the same can’t be said for you.” She turned and, obviously well-intoxicated, stumbled on shaky feet to a tall archway on her left.

Romeo inhaled slowly, eyes closed in meditation. I could tell this kind of treatment was nothing new. His reaction said it all. When he looked down at me, I smiled reassuringly, but I had to stop gritting my teeth. I was furious.

We followed in the direction of his mother, and when we rounded the corner to a huge black and white ornate grand parlour, Mr. Prince stood next to a large coal fire awaiting our arrival, wearing a perfectly tailored grey suit. I immediately felt uneasy in his company.

Mrs. Prince joined her husband and Romeo’s father straightened, placing his hands in his pockets, almost mockingly. There was no greeting, no warm embraces, just coldness enough to make me dither from head to toe.

Mr. Prince flicked his chin at Romeo. “You kept us waiting on our invitation for dinner tonight, boy. Not acceptable.”

Romeo shifted on his feet. “I thought I might’a had practice. I didn’t, as it turned out. I got back to you as soon as I could.”

Mr. Prince looked affronted. “Well, lucky for us,” he lilted sarcastically. “I don’t know why you still waste your time with all that football nonsense anyway. We both know you won’t be going into the draft.”

My eyes fixed on Rome in surprise, but the tightening of his jaw and his lack of response were the only indicators that his father’s words had any sort of impact.

Mrs. Prince rang a bell before Romeo could respond and she gestured towards the luxurious bronze sofa. “Why don’t y’all sit down?” she slurred.

Rome and I moved woodenly to the couch, his hand clutching mine tightly, refusing to let go.

Within minutes, a maid dressed in traditional black-and-white monochrome attire stepped in the room.

“Four Bollinger’s,” Mrs. Prince ordered, a sharp edge to her command. The elderly maid bowed and left the room.

Mr and Mrs. Prince moved to sit opposite us on an identical sofa.

“So, Molly, isn’t it?” Mrs. Prince asked bluntly.

I nodded. “Yes.”

Her top lip curled on what appeared to be a disgusted snarl. “I hear you’re a transfer?”

“Yeah, I arrived to complete my master’s earlier this academic year.”

“And you met Rome, how?”

I turned to Romeo and smiled. He cast a glimpse at me from the corner of his eye and squeezed his hand holding mine.

“We met on the first day of classes.”

Romeo smiled and leaned forwards, pressing a tender kiss to my head. “Best damn day of my life.”