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My feet are unsteady, and my whole body aches as I try to walk. I wish I had something to throw at Romeo’s head. I’m the one who has been transplanted into an alternative universe, and he’s the one acting as if it was him. I breathe in through my nose and exhale through my mouth, trying to calm myself down.
I take another step, testing to see how much weight I can hold. What did I see in Romeo to want to marry him? There has to be a side he hasn’t shown me yet. I can hear a door slam and Romeo yelling at something.
“Here are some new clothes.” Tilting my head up, I see a guy who looks like a younger version of Romeo walk in.
“You must be the brother.” I smile.
“He’s under a lot of stress. Don’t let his crusty tone bother you. He won’t admit it out loud, but you scared him to death. I’ve never seen him freak out before.”
“You must be the nice one,” I comment, instantly liking him.
He considers my words. “Typically, I get ‘the quiet one.’ But I like your version better.” He chuckles, his eyes radiating warmth. He walks over, placing folded clothes on my bed.
“I’m Maximus, but everyone calls me Max.”
I nod, not sure if I should introduce myself. It seems silly, since we’ve probably hung out a hundred times before because of his brother. I can’t help but think, Why didn’t I want his brother at our wedding?
“If you need anything, just holler.”
Standing has taken more effort than I thought it would. My legs feel like jelly, and I could use a good massage to ease my muscles. Picking up the clothes, I see they have tags still attached to them. Strange. Don’t I live here?
It takes what feels like twenty minutes to dress. The sweatpants are loose, the flowy T-shirt short like a crop top. I have bruises across my chest from what I assume was my seat belt. It’s what saved my life.
Shuffling toward the door, I open it and glance around. The house looks nothing like the room I was in. Outside the room, the house is all wood paneling and looks worn. It isn’t very big. To the left is where I’m assuming the bedrooms are. Then to the right is a modest living room, an island separating the room from the kitchen. The kitchen holds an oven and sink. There’s no room for a table to sit. Three high stools line the island.
The large kitchen window calls to me, and I want to know what’s outside. My foot takes a hesitant step, and my hands grip the wall, helping me shuffle toward the kitchen. A farm waits in front of me. I can’t imagine myself living on a farm. The idea of stepping in poo grosses me out.
Opening the smaller-than-normal fridge, I’m impressed to see real food in it. I grab a few items and begin the process of cooking. The act relaxes me, even if I’m slower than I should be. I don’t even know what I’m making, but it seems to be coming together easily.
Each time I hear a new sound, I look out the large picture-like window. I watch Romeo walk toward the house with a snarl on his face. A dog is jumping around him and doesn’t stop until he throws a ball. The dog races for the ball and repeats the process. It takes some time before the snarl becomes a soft frown. I smile softly, enjoying watching when no one knows.
It looks like Romeo and the dog are on different levels of friendliness. But I can see the dog slowly wearing him down.
“She cooks,” Max says, coming in.
I jump and turn toward him. The fast movements cause pain to shoot through me, and I have to hold on to the counter to steady myself. I breathe through the immediate soreness before I respond. “I have no idea what I’m doing. This could taste like burned toast.” My ears burn from my honesty. I hope it turns out good. I was beginning to feel much more confident, but now in front of company, it’s dwindling fast.
“Why the hell is Gia blushing?” Romeo cuts in, stomping in toward his brother. His harsh voice vibrates around the room as his eyes burn with anger, and my skin feels the flame of his look. It has the heat in my face spreading down to my neck.
“We don’t have to eat it,” I quickly say, hoping to defuse the situation.
“Easy, man. Everyone knows she’s yours. I just commented on her cooking.” Max points to the dish in my hands. I almost drop it with the way Romeo’s eyes flick to mine. I’m left standing not knowing what to do. The air pulses between us. His jaw tightens as he seems to look at his surroundings for the first time and finds Max to be telling the truth.
Romeo, in his confident swagger, comes up to me, taking the bowl from my hands. “You need to rest.” It would be sweet if his voice wasn’t rough and angry. Or if he didn’t rip the bowl from my hands while glaring down at me.
I look to Max, hoping maybe to get a little help, but he’s smiling, looking unfazed by Romeo. Maybe once upon a time, I liked this whole raw, “I’m a caveman” type of behavior?
Romeo shoves the bowl into his brother’s hands with a grunt. With no warning, he sweeps me off my feet, cradling me like a child.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scold while my feet welcome the reprieve. I have to fight to not melt into his arms and place my head on his shoulder.
“Putting you in our bedroom where you belong,” he murmurs.
“We’re all going to starve then.” My stomach takes it as a cue to rumble like a hungry bear.
“I know how to fucking cook. My mother taught me right.” His tone softens as he mentions his mother.
I stare up at his strong jawline and the scruff that outlines it. My head rests on his shoulder, testing it out and too tired to fight him on it. I take the opportunity to try to understand this man holding me.
