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“What about you, King?” She bites at her bottom lip, and I have no idea what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling.
My mind whirs, running on overdrive, my knee bouncing up and down beneath the table. Itching to move, get away from the tension.
“Uh—I’ll have the same thing as Parker. No queso. And hold the avocado.”
I finally glance up at her, a smile teasing at her lips. “Solid choice.”
She holds out her hand, and I almost reach for it, run my fingertips across her smooth palm. Then I realize she’s waiting for me to give her my menu.
“Oh, here.” I pry the sticky plastic off the table, gathering my brothers’ menus as well, and hand them all to her.
We lock eyes—one quick second—and I can’t breathe, can’t think. All I can do is get lost in Juliet’s beguiling eyes, falling under her spell.
A spell I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to break.
A spell I maybe don’t want to break at all.
6
JULIET
Menus in hand, I spin around and bolt from the Montgomerys’ table as fast as I can.
After dodging through customers, I toss the menus on the messy pile at the bar and duck into the kitchen.
Away from the crowded dining room.
Away from King and his stupid handsome face.
Away from that deep-navy gaze I still can’t read.
What’s he thinking? How does he feel about Roman having a baby?
The air evaporates from my lungs, and a sharp pain stabs me in the chest.
It should have been us.
I rip the order from the pad and hand the paper to the line cook, then duck into the alley for a quick breath of fresh air. Evening humidity envelops me, and I breathe in and out, in and out, salt stinging my nostrils.
Leaning against the building, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block out the pain washing over me.
The pain of that horrible day. I still have nightmares about it, waking up with a tear-streaked face.
That was the worst day of my entire life.
And I’ve had some awful days, growing up with an abusive father and a drug-addled mother. So that’s saying something.
The blood. So much blood, a deep crimson. Gushing everywhere, soaking through my panties, my jeans. Warm and sticky, the strong metallic scent.
I couldn’t get it to stop. I wanted to make it stop, squeezing my thighs together, trying to keep it all in until I could make it to the doctor.
King found me on the bathroom floor, half-delirious, on the verge of passing out.
Juliet! Panic in his voice, his face, as he carried me to his truck and drove me to the hospital. Clutching my hand all the way, speeding through town, blowing through every stoplight.
But by then it’s already too late.
I’m sorry, but there’s no heartbeat.
