Page 20 of Romero and Juliette

Me: Yeah, but y’all already knew those women.

Me: I barely know Juliette.

Me: And let’s not forget that she’s too young for me.

Liam: You’re both adults.

Flynn: Yep. Seems like if they are the same woman, you’ve got your answer right there.

Then she comes out of the bathroom looking so damn sexy. Her hair is down, falling around her shoulders in a blonde waterfall of glossy waves. She’s got make-up on. Nothing particularly bold, but her eyes look more intense, her irises bluer, her lashes darker.

Rather than coveralls or blue jeans, she’s wearing a dress. One that accents every one of her thick curves. I swallow hard. I know I’m staring, cataloging every part of her, but I can’t help it. Can’t look away.

“You look gorgeous,” I blurt.

She smiles. “Thank you, Cruz. That means a lot. Truly.”

Her eyes lock and a moment passes between us where everything feels heavy and… expectant? As if she’s wanting me to say something else, but I don’t know what it is.

“I’ll walk you down,” I tell her.

“You don’t have to,” she says.

“A man’s gotta eat.”

“True.”

“So what time is your friend supposed to meet you?” I ask.

She folds her lips in. “I have a confession.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you think you can call someone you’ve never met in person a friend?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. That’s how lots of people used to meet. Pen pals and letters and whatever. Now, things are just more immediate.”

She smiles. “Yes, like a pen pal.”

“That who you’re meeting?” I ask. Though this conversation feels wrong, like I’m lying to her. But I still don’t know for sure that she’s my Fleetwood.

“I guess you could say that. We met on a dating app. Is that weird?”

“Plenty of people meet that way now. It might have been weird many years ago, but it’s a viable way to meet people these days.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true.” She bites down on her lip. “Have you ever done it? Online dating?”

I nod. “Once or twice.”

We walk to the elevator and then ride down to the lobby. The restaurant and bar combo isn’t big, but it beats going out after you’ve been on the road all day. It occurs to me that aside from the quick shower I took when we arrived, I didn’t get ready like I’m going on a date.

She will probably be disappointed that it’s me. Once she knows, she can move on to someone else. No doubt, she’s been chatting with other guys on there. Men closer to her age with two perfectly functioning knees that don’t ache when the wind changes directions.

I leave her with the hostess, telling her to text me if she needs something, then I walk away.

I need a moment to think through what I’m about to do. I’m not exactly worried about ruining our friendship. Aside from this trip, we’ve not been alone together except, on occasion, in the garage. But I do know I don’t want to fuck this up.

In all my years, I’ve never felt like this about another woman. Juliette hits all of my targets, rings all of my bells, or whatever the fuck a proper metaphor is. I just know that she’s not only physically attractive, she’s smart, funny, talented, and kind—the whole damn package.