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“Why?”
“I just don’t want to talk to her.”
I dive into the ensuite bathroom and turn on the shower before lying my entire body flat against the closed door to hear what my mother is saying to Cat. There’s a pause outside, before the hinges of my bedroom door creak and my mother’s muffled voice sounds again.
“Oh, Catalina. Where’s my daughter?”
“In the shower, Mrs. Capulet.”
“Well, would you tell her to come to me when she gets out? I don’t care how late it is.”
“Sure.”
There’s a pause, and my stomach roils with anxiety—I wish I could see their faces. “It would help if you could remind Juliette that Harrison is a good match. He’s wealthy and powerful and despite her sulking actually wants to marry her. She’s doing herself no favors by trying to ruin this.”
I struggle not to bang my head against the wall, knowing the sound will give away that I can hear them.
The door clicks shut and I burst out of the bathroom. “See? See how insane this is?”
Cat nods. “I never said it wasn’t.”
I sink onto my bed, massaging my temples where a stress headache began to form over an hour ago. It’s not the arranged marriage that’s getting to me—it’s the speed, and the fact that my parents don’t seem to care at all that I barely know Harrison, and from what I’ve seen, I don’t want to know him.
“You have a plan, though, right?”
I look up, finding her leaning against my bedroom door, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we knew this was coming…right? I thought you were already planning to marry Montague instead.”
Her nose wrinkles when she speaks, her expression telling me she still can’t quite believe I’m speaking to Roman Montague, let alone want to marry him. I can’t quite believe it either.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. She acts like it’s so simple. “Sure, but I wasn’t expecting the wedding to be moved up.”
Cat walks over to sit next to me on the bed. “So?”
I bark a humorless laugh. “Very helpful, thank you.”
“No, I’m serious,” she says, her eyes wide. “So what? You were already hanging off the deep end, let’s just jump all the way in.”
I blink at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to spell it out.”
She sighs, exasperated, and flicks her long black hair over her shoulder. “Gimme your phone.”
I hand it over without question. Cat has been my partner in crime since we were kids, always there to help me in times of crisis. The gods know I wasn’t exactly killing it without her input all week, so time to make a change.Catalina, take the wheel.
My heart thumps heavily in my chest as I hear the muffled sound of the line ringing, as Cat holds my phone to her ear.
“Who are you calling?” I ask anxiously.
She holds the phone out to me. “Your boyfriend.”
I snatch the phone from her, pressing it to my ear. “He’s not my boyfriend. And, anyway, I could have done that.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have. At least not before going back and forth about it for the next hour.”
True. Voicemail picks up, the standard phone-company message that means Roman never recorded a personal greeting, and I scowl. “Well, he’s not answering. So, now what?”
I glance at the time. It is almost midnight. With anyone else I would say they were sleeping, but people with normal sleep schedules don’t write “BUY MELATONIN” on their hands, or have vampire-esque circles under their eyes.
