Chapter 21 Rome
TWENTY-ONE
ROME
Flashback
A golden glow surrounds the treetops bordering the cabin’s property. Standing at the edge of the pond, I watch the sun begin to set behind them.
I’ve probably adjusted the cuffs of my suit a million times, but I need to keep my hands busy.
I didn’t think it was possible to be more nervous or excited than the day I met Julianna in the library for the first time. But fuck, it’s possible. My stomach wobbles with nausea, and a few times I’ve felt the urge to punch something just to get this nervous energy out.
After checking the time on my gold-plated Vacheron Constantin watch, my anxiety picks up.
She’s two minutes late. Normally, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Julianna notoriously runs on her own schedule, but this is our wedding day.
It’s all we’ve talked about for the past two months since I proposed to her on her birthday.
Two days after, I went to the luxury jeweler and bought her the ring she deserved. A rose gold leaflet ring, riddled with tiny little diamonds. Aside from the diamonds, it looked like it could have been plucked straight off the set of a Romeo and Juliet production.
Julianna insisted on buying my ring, so I haven’t seen it yet.
We agreed the best place to get married would be my parents’ cabin. It became mine the day I turned eighteen, and it’s been the place Julianna, and I have been able to sneak off to nearly every week since graduation last month. This place is sacred. Ours.
A place where we’ve been free to be ourselves. Free to be together.
I tug my phone from my pocket. There’s a missed call and a voicemail on my phone. I look up at the cabin but don’t see Julianna or Marcus. Figuring either of them should be coming out soon, I click on the voicemail and press my phone to my ear.
“Rome Sebastian Montgomery.” My father’s sinister scolding voice meets my ear, sending a sobering chill down my spine.
“I don’t know where the fuck you are, but you’d better think twice if you’re planning on skipping out on the meeting tomorrow.
We have a deal with an important client, and if it falls through without you here, you’ll be to blame.
You’d better get your fucking act together or else you won’t like the consequences. Call me back.”
The message abruptly ends with a sharp beep.
I press seven to delete the message and drop my phone back into my pocket without a single regret.
I shove my hands in my pocket and grind my teeth, forcing in a calming breath.
Lifting my chin, I put my father’s message out of my mind and wait for Julianna at the end of the bridge stretching across the pond.
Marcus emerges from the house seconds later. His tablet is clutched under his arm, no doubt with a link to a script for our wedding ceremony.
When I told Marcus about our engagement, he didn’t waste a single ounce of energy trying to stop me.
He knew that, despite our differences and family’s vendettas, I loved her.
So, when we needed someone to perform the ceremony, Marcus was a no brainer.
He signed up to get certified through some internet site.
I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get our marriage certificate filed through a county in New York that held no ties to the Capuletis or Montgomerys.
The closer he gets, the more nervous I grow.
Five minutes ago, he offered to go check on Julianna to make sure she was ready.
I offered to go, but, you know, the superstition.
Groom can’t see the bride until the ceremony.
I called bullshit on that one, but who was I to argue with Julianna or Marcus.
I’m still sick as I watch Marcus. His expression isn’t one I’m expecting for someone about to perform a wedding.
“Everything okay?” I ask him, swallowing the bile climbing up my throat. “Where’s Julianna?”
He finishes walking down the sloped portion of the grass before stopping. “She’s upstairs in your bedroom.”
“Okay.” I adjust my tie. Must keep these hands busy. “She isn’t getting cold feet, is she?”
Fuck, I don’t know if I want his answer. No. Who am I kidding? Of course I do.
“No. No cold feet.” Marcus snorts, shaking his head. “But she did ask to speak with you.”
“Fuck.” I run my hand over my mouth. “She wants to speak to me before our wedding, and you’re trying to convince me she isn’t wanting to back out?”
“Relax, Mr. Montgomery.” He clamps a hand over my shoulder. “I asked her if she wanted to stop this, and she assured me she didn’t. I believe her. She just needs to tell you something beforehand.”
A wave of relief washes over me. I blow out a heavy exhale.
“Shit.” I bend over and plant my hands on my knees, hanging my head between my shoulders. I don’t know what I would do if I lost Julianna. “Okay.” I breathe out, pulling myself to a stand. “I don’t know what she could have to tell me that can’t wait until after this but…”
“Everything will be fine.” Marcus gives me a soft, closed-mouth smile.
Fuck, he’s a damn good friend. And bodyguard.
I nod and clap him on his upper arm. “Thank you, Marcus.”
“Of course,” he says, moving around me. “I’ll wait for you both here.”
I point toward the bridge as I walk backward and head toward the house. “Careful of the boards. It’s kind of old.”
Marcus glances at it with raised brows. “Perfect.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I tried to warn Julianna, but she insisted.”
“The woman has great taste.” He shouts the closer the farther I get from him, “For a Capuleti!”
I’m still laughing, already feeling slightly better, by the time I get to the house. I take the steps two at a time and head straight for the single bedroom. The slate door is ajar. I wrap my knuckles against it, not wanting to barge right in.
“Lark?”
“You can come in.”
I stare at the floor as I make my way inside.
“What are you doing?” she asks, sniffing.
I grin, even though she can’t see my face. “Bad luck to see you before meeting you at the altar. Shit, I mean bridge, not altar.”
She laughs.
Oh, good. She’s laughing. A bride who’s having second thoughts doesn’t laugh on her wedding day. Right?
But why does it sound like she’s been crying?
She sniffs again before her feet appear in my line of sight, wearing white satin heels with delicate feathers attached to the straps around her ankles. I’m grinning at her glittery silver-painted toenails.
“I can’t talk to you when you refuse to look at me, Rome.”
“Lark…” I sigh. “I’m trying to stick to tradition here.”
“You’re cute,” she practically sings. “Ridiculous but cute.”
“You love me,” I tease, forcing my hands behind my back to keep from touching her. She’s standing so close to me, but I know if I touch her, I won’t stop.
“I do love you,” she replies softly. “Which is why I need to tell you this before we go out there, and I need to see you when I say it.”
I groan before slowly lifting my head. The air is stolen from my lungs when I see her.
She’s wearing a short mini dress made of lace and bows. Some sort of corset boning structure runs across her ribs, leading to a skirt billowing out at her hips. Delicate white fabric rests off her shoulders, each strap tied into a large bow resting against both her arms.
I bite my lip to stifle a groan.
“Fuck, Lark.” I blow out a heavy breath. I’m fucking dizzy just by looking at her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She rubs her hand nervously over her stomach as the corner of her crimson red-painted lip pulls into a grin. “Really?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I move closer to cradle her face in my hands. “I’m so fucking lucky, this is insane. I’m in a dream, right? Are you real?”
She giggles. “Oh, I’m real.”
My eyes drop to her mouth. “Is it safe to kiss you, or is that bad luck, too?”
“You can kiss me,” she answers, her cheeks blushing. “This lipstick is practically bulletproof. But you also have to promise we’ll stop at the one kiss. I really need to talk to you.”
“It’ll be difficult.” I can’t stop fucking grinning. “But I promise.”
I pull her in for a kiss, planting my mouth softly to hers. I know she said I won’t ruin her makeup, but I still want to be safe.
When I pull away, Julianna keeps her eyes closed and breathes out a heavy sigh. She’s still running her hand along her stomach before moving it to her right hip.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concern replacing my desire. “Is your tattoo irritating you?”
“No.” She sighs, looking down at her hand. “It isn’t bothering me.”
Two days ago, Julianna and I got matching rose tattoos.
Hers is small, over her lower abdomen, close to her right hip.
Mine stretches across my ribs, nearly ten times the size of hers.
But we wanted something to signify our love and us getting married.
Something to serve as a constant reminder of our love.
But I didn’t stop at the rose. I also got a large lark tattooed across my neck, its wings stretched across it, wrapping around my throat. The tattoo is still fresh, and I opted to not wear a tie today, leaving my black button-down shirt open at the top.
Julianna’s bottom lip trembles, and I can’t help noticing how she’s vibrating with nerves.
“Lark.” I rub my knuckles against her soft cheek and glance at her phone sitting on the nightstand. “Did your dad call again?”
She shakes her head. “No. He bought my lie about meeting with my student advisor at Yale to discuss potentially meeting with other well-established interior designers in the field.”
“Okay.” I swallow, a tiny sliver of relief edging its way in. “That’s good.”
Fucking Kingsten Capuleti. Sometimes I think he keeps tabs on Julianna more than he should. Especially now that she’s eighteen and heading off to college at the end of next month.
She scoffs, following it up with a small chuckle. “I mean, it isn’t a complete lie. I’m only off by two weeks.”