Page 72 of Romeo

That word still caught inside me sometimes. I didn’t think any of them knew just how much they all meant to me.

Dinner turned into its usual chaos. Jasper and Jasmine talked over each other, Charlie discovered that banging his spoon against the highchair tray made an excellent sound, and when Theodore woke up crying, Benedict immediately decided he should too.

For a while, all that noise gave me somewhere to hide. Then I looked across the table and found Georgie watching me.

“So, Fiona,” he said. “How’s the college search going?”

My stomach tightened. There was nothing decipherable in his tone, but things had changed between us.

“Fine. My plans haven’t changed.”

“Good.” He set his fork down. “I just want to make sure you’re staying focused. Senior year is important. You don’t need distractions.”

There it was.

Not college.

Not school.

Jasper.

“I am focused.”

“Are you?” Georgie asked. “Because those flowers that showed up at the Creamery on Valentine’s Day say otherwise.”

Silence spread across the table faster than I would’ve thought possible with that many children in the room.

“What flowers?” Frank asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just⁠—”

“Not nothing.” Georgie’s voice went flat. “I was there, remember? I saw them arrive.”

“It’s none of your business, Georgie,” Josie muttered beside him.

“It became my business the second I learned who sent them.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You know why they call him Romeo, right?”

My jaw tightened.

“Georgie,” Josie warned.

He didn’t look at her.

“It’s not because he’s romantic. It’s because he’s got a different Juliet every week.”

The word formed in my head before he even said it. Next. Like women lined up and eventually Jasper had pointed at me.

“We’re friends,” I said. Georgie had already had this conversation with me months ago when Jasper was here for Jack’s wedding. After we danced together at the reception. After I thought I would never see him again.

“Friends.” Georgie laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s what they all think at first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means men like him don’t send flowers to women they want to be friends with.” Georgie leaned forward. “He’s thirty-one, Fiona. You’re eighteen. You really think⁠—”

“Do you have a problem with my cousin?” Josie interrupted.

Georgie turned toward her. “Yeah, Josie. I do. I have a problem with a man who’s earned that road name deciding my little sister is next.”