Page 108 of Marcello

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said with a sigh as she stared out at the city.

“Yes, it is,” I said as I looked her up and down. “And the view’s nice, too.”

She gave me a look halfway between amused and disapproving. “I thought you weren’t going to be cheesy anymore.”

“Okay, okay,” I relented. “Yes, the view of the city is gorgeous.”

“Better,” she said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Romeo.”

I didn’t even think about it. I hadn’t referred to myself as ‘Marcello’ in years.

“Ohhhhh,” she said with a laugh. “Well, I guess that makes me Giulietta.”

The Italian name of the work by Shakespeare was Romeo e Giulietta, pronounced roh-MAY-oh eh joo-lee-EH-tah.

“You know what they did in the play, right?” I asked with jokey seductiveness.

“Yeah, they both DIED,” she retorted.

I laughed. “Okay, let’s not do that part. What’s your real name?”

“What’s your real name?”

For whatever reason, I hesitated to reveal it.

Maybe I was afraid she would ask why I’d said Romeo, and then I’d have to explain about Cesare giving me the nickname.

And no matter what, I wanted to leave Cesare out of this.

“Romeo,” I repeated.

“Then my real name is Giulietta,” she said coquettishly.

“Okay, Giulietta,” I said, playing along. “What do you do? Are you a student?”

“No.”

“What’s your job?”

“I’m the full-time daughter of the Capulets,” she said playfully, referencing the last name of Shakespeare’s heroine.

She was educated and clever. Both huge plusses in my book.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“Full-time son of the Montagues,” I said, using Romeo’s last name in the play.

“So, a layabout who chases women all the time.”

I grinned. “Let’s just leave it at ‘full-time son of the Montagues.’”

“That means ours is a forbidden love,” she said with mock theatricality.

“Well, you know what they say: forbidden fruit is the sweetest,” I said, stepping in closer for a kiss.

Before I could go for it, though, she smirked. “Who says that?”