Page 97 of Romeo

“I need your help.”

Josie paused, and I heard the hesitation in her voice. Knew it for what it was. “With what?”

“Fiona.”

Another pause, longer this time. She might have said she’d watch out for Fiona, might have even understood the La Croix curse better than most, but she was still hesitant, still protective. “What about Fiona?”

“Prom is Saturday night.”

“I know.”

“She’s not going.”

“I know that too.” Josie’s voice changed, careful now. “She doesn’t have anyone to go with, Romeo. And she’s not the kind of girl who goes to dances alone.”

“She should go.”

“I agree. But⁠—”

“I’m gonna take her.”

Silence. Then, “You’re going to what?”

“I’m taking her to prom.” Saying it out loud settled something in me. “I’m gonna surprise her. Show up at her house Saturday night and take her.”

“Romeo.” Josie went quiet for a second. “That’s... that’s a big gesture.”

“She deserves it.”

“I know she does. But⁠—”

“She’s been texting me all night, Josie. Pretending she doesn’t care. Using short answers because she doesn’t want me to know it bothers her.” I looked at Fiona’s last message again. Goodnight, Romeo. “She wants to go. She just won’t admit it.”

Josie was quiet long enough that I wondered whether she was about to tell me I’d finally lost my mind. Instead, she asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Relief loosened something in my chest. Something that had grabbed hold of me when I read the heartache in Fiona’s words.

“I need you to help me plan it. Make sure she has everything she needs. A dress. Shoes. Hair. Makeup. Whatever the hell girls need for prom.”

“That’s a lot to coordinate in three days.”

“I know.”

“And you want it to be a surprise?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed. “You’re asking me to pull off a miracle, Romeo.”

“I’m asking you to help me give her something she’s never had.” I sat on the edge of the bed again. “She’s missed enough, Josie. I want her to have one night where she doesn’t have to think about any of that. One night where she just gets to be eighteen.”

Another pause, then, “I’ll get Sugar to help.”

I frowned. “Sugar?”

“She owns the Creamery. She knows Fiona’s size, her style, what she likes. And she’s got connections in town. Between the two of us, we can get a dress, shoes, everything she needs without making her suspicious.”

“You think she’ll do it?”