Juliet

Prologue

Lower East Side

Manhattan, New York

LOVIE

I’ve only ever been this close to a cop one other time in my life.

“10-6. Standby. I’ve got a black female over on Kaufman. No shoes, no coat—in a…a….” The burly, red-faced cop eyes my torn sequined Rabanne dress, putting his radio back to his lips. “A mini dress.”

He won’t look at my face.

“Looks like she might’ve been in a scuffle,” he adds, leaning against the back of his truck, staring at my bare feet.

The dispatcher gives him a muffled response, and he drops the radio against his uniform before pushing off the truck.

He dusts his hands together, chomping on a piece of gum as he approaches me. “Where you supposed to be, sweetheart?”

It’s so cold that his hot breath creates a thick cloud between us.

I shuffle back and forth against the freezing, gritty sidewalk, picking up one foot and then the other.

There’s a layer of something sticky on my big toe and my left foot is wet, but I don’t even remember stepping in water.

People pass by us, but nobody looks at me.

Instead, they smile and point at the Christmas lights still hanging from the light posts while chattering about their New Year’s Eve plans.

The cop tilts his fat head and pushes it into my line of vision. “Hey…you deaf or what?”

His name is Officer Patton—badge number 10384. He never bothered to tell me any of that when he flagged me down from his car—I just read it on his uniform.

He’s married too.

His rubber wedding band digs into his meaty ring finger, and every now and then he twists it like he wants to pull it off.

“C’mon…” He snaps his fingers at me like he’s talking to a wandering puppy. “The ball drops in an hour, lady. Where’re you supposed to be?”

The more frustrated he gets, the thicker his New York accent becomes. It wades through his words, floating on top of every consonant he spits out.

“Okay, fine.” He swipes his nose and looks away. “Who did that to your face?”

My face?

A warm glob of snot dribbles over my lip.

I swipe at it, then glance at my red-stained fingers.

“My face…” I bring my hands to my cold, throbbing cheeks.

Their warmth thaws them, and suddenly I feel my hot skin and the aching around my gums.

“You been drinking?”

“Ye…no…does it matter? I’m not driving,” I reply breathlessly. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Everybody’s been drinking.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, pulling a tiny flashlight out of his pocket. He clicks the side of it without warning and shines the bright light on my face.

I wince, tossing my hands in front of my eyes.

“You want me to call a medic to take a look at your face or what?” he asks.

“No…no. I’m okay, I think.”

“You think? Look, you got any family I can ca—”

“Don’t!” I swipe my wet nose again. “Don’t call them.”

“Look, lady—”

“My name isn’t ‘lady.’ It’s—”

“Lovie!” AJ howls from somewhere in the crowded street.

My heart drums in an unnatural rhythm, and I strain my neck, looking around for him until I spot the top of his braids.

His mahogany skin stands out against the pale complexions of the white people trampling through our neighborhood, and he towers over everybody, looking down at each of their faces as they walk by.

“You know that guy?” Officer Patton asks while I stare at AJ.

Jesus, I hope we don’t catch eyes.

That’s how he got me the first time.

His hazel eyes had pierced into mine on the quad back at school. Then he smiled at me with teeth so straight and white that I got self-conscious about my own.

He swings his head wildly until his eyes slam into my face.

I pinch mine shut and open them right as he pushes through a group of shaggy-haired teenage boys and steps off the sidewalk.

He takes long strides across the bustling street in his cobalt blue suit, pulling at his loosened tie and hugging his single-breasted coat to his chest.

We look like we’ve been to two different parties.

Just an hour ago, Coach Caldwell complimented him on that coat he’s hugging and congratulated us on our impending nuptials. He said we were a “fine looking quiet couple” and I still don’t know if that’s a good thing.

When AJ gets closer, he frowns at Officer Patton idling next to me. Now all the black truffle risotto I ate at dinner bubbles up my throat.

“Bae!” he yelps, stepping onto the curb. “Where the hell you been?”

He’s talking like I wasn’t just in our kitchen.

He reaches out and pulls me into his solid chest.

My perfume floats off him. The lavender and bergamot notes are embedded deep in his button-down, and my mauve lipstick sits on his collar.

I’m all over him. I think there’s even a speck of my blood on his loafers, but Officer Patton doesn’t notice because he hasn’t bothered looking any further than AJ’s face.

“Look at you,” AJ murmurs, raking his fingers through my short curls and staring at my hot cheeks. “Look at your face. Jesus. What are we gonna do about the shoot tomorrow? We already confirmed with the rep from People. You can’t take pictures like this.”

I gurgle out a choke while he lets my head go and thrusts his hand out to Officer Patton. “Thank you. I’ve been looking everywhere for her.”

Officer Patton clears his throat and gives AJ a firm handshake. “A lady called in—said she was wandering up and down Kaufman without shoes and a busted up face asking folks to use their phones.”

I was?

I try to pull away, but AJ pulls me back to his side, and I feel the reason I took off out of our apartment in his pants pocket. It jabs me in my rib while I chase Officer Patton’s eyes.

I need him to look at my face.

I need him to know this isn’t me.

I don’t know who this woman is he keeps talking about.

“Is that true, Lovie?” AJ asks. “Were you asking strangers to use their phones?”

“No, I was…I was just—”

He rolls his hazel eyes away from me and chuckles. “I’m sorry about the commotion, Officer. My fiancée really, really loves New Year’s Eve. Maybe a little too much.”

“I see. You folks live around here?”

I scoff, swiping my wet nose. “Why would you think we don—”

AJ squeezes my tender hip. “Yes, sir. We live a couple blocks over on Leclair in The Vestry.”

Officer Patton’s blue eyes volley between us until he nods. “Looks like you all been out celebrating. Where you been?”

“The Ritz-Carlton. My job had a New Year’s Eve party there. We had a few drinks… and left early, and things got a little blurry when we got home,” AJ replies.

I had one drink—a French 75. And that blurriness didn’t start at home. It started well before we got home.

“We got a tricky staircase in our apartment that gets dangerous sometimes. I don’t know about you, but too many flutes of champagne and a winding staircase…

” He whistles, looking down at my face and pinching my swollen chin.

“I tell her all the time to slow down when she’s running up and down that thing, but she never listens.

She fell, and I panicked…so then she panicked.

I ran to grab some ice and a rag, and I came back and she was gone. ”

His eyes soften, and mine almost do too, because his are sincere. They always are. Even when he’s mad at me for silly little things like accepting a compliment from his teammate.

Officer Patton nods until the light from the lamppost shines on AJ’s broad nose.

He crinkles his eyebrows. “AJ Boyd?”

AJ nods in response. “Yes, sir.”

“Wait a minute—New York Knights wide receiver AJ Boyd?”

The suspicion melts from Officer Patton’s face, and he brings a balled fist to his lips.

I’ve seen this same childlike glint on hundreds of other grown men’s faces in airport lounges, Michelin-starred restaurants, and I’ve even seen it on my Uncle Kenny’s when he talks about AJ. Now I can say I’ve seen it on a racist, misogynistic cop’s face.

“Jeez, you should’ve said somethin earlier. I…I didn’t mean to hold you and your lady up on New Year’s Eve.”

For a moment I hope he’ll ask more—like why I ran barefoot out of our apartment after accidentally falling down two flights of stairs, or why we left a posh New Year’s Eve party two hours before midnight, but nobody cares about any of that because two men are having “man-talk” like my Aunt Faye calls it.

Officer Patton pulls his radio to his lips again, and a spark of hope lights in my stomach. “10-90N…”

He holds up a finger. “I’m just letting dispatch know everything’s good.”

“You…you can tell us that?” I stammer out, swiping another trickle of blood from my nose.

AJ squeezes my upper arm while Officer Patton babbles to the dispatcher.

Once he’s done explaining there’s no perceived crime for him to fight, he drops the radio and reaches into his pants pocket. “Can you take a picture with me so I can send it to my kid? He’s not gonna believe this. It’s freakin AJ Boyd.”

I’m shuffled to the side in my torn, bloody dress while they take a selfie in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

AJ paints on that perfect smile I love and tosses up an innocent peace sign while Officer Patton points to him as if he’s not real. Afterward, Officer Patton pulls his phone out of their faces, swiping through the pictures and shaking his head.

“Wow. Thank you, Mr. Boyd. You know, we were worried on draft night. I mean, a prissy Alpine kid coming to the Knights from some no-name black school that’s only known for basketball?

What are we in—The Twilight Zone? But then you had that one-handed catch against the Dolphins in your freakin first game. ”

He scoffs, and AJ thrusts his head back, conjuring up his best fake laugh.

“We might not have been the AFC champs this year, but next season it’s all us. Knights Nation, baby! All day!” Officer Patton thrusts his hand out for a proper handshake this time, and AJ obliges without hesitation.

He flings AJ’s hand up and down. “Holy crap, Seth is gonna freak out. You folks have a good night!”

People are staring now—not at me, of course. They’re all looking at AJ and whispering as Officer Patton scampers away from us. He stumbles over the curb, putting his phone to his ear and looking over his shoulder to make sure it was really AJ Boyd he had taken a selfie with.

“Seth…” he pants, pulling open the driver’s side door to his SUV. “You won’t believe who I met…”

His voice trails off as he closes himself inside.

There’s still a sad, tiny smolder from that initial spark in my stomach.

He’ll turn around. I know he will.

The truck whirs to life and a tiny gasp that only I can hear croaks from the back of my throat while I wait for him to realize he’s making a mistake.

I inhale the bitter smoke trailing out of the truck’s muffler and stare at the back of the SUV as Officer Patton turns the wheel, inching back onto the crowded street.

“He’s…he’s leaving,” I mutter to myself, looking around at all the faceless people brushing past us on the sidewalk. “He’s leaving?”

“Yeah,” AJ replies. “Did you want him to stay or something?”

I swallow the cold air and shuffle toward the back of the SUV. “Wait…he didn’t even…”

“He didn’t even what?” AJ asks, pulling my arm.

I try to yank it from his grasp, but he holds it tighter. “He didn’t…wait…wait. That’s it?”

A sad wheeze crawls from my chest as I run out of breath. “Come back.”

“Come back? Come back for what? The man gave us a slap on the wrist. Come here and put my jacket on before you get sick. I’m calling Blake to come get us.”

“But he didn’t even… he didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Damn. Spit it out,” he grits out.

I pause and try to relax my mouth. “He…he…”

“He got you back to me after you fuckin ran off, and he didn’t take you to jail for wandering around looking like a prostitute in this too little dress with your ass hanging out.

Now we can sweep all of this shit under the rug before Coach hears anything about me standing on a public sidewalk talking to a city cop. ”

“But he didn’t even ask me what happened,” I utter under my breath.

“What are you talking about? You got drunk and fell down the stairs. That’s what happened. Don’t turn this into something else.”

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks explode and light up the dark sky.

I turn back toward the honking cars lining the street just as a sleek Rolls-Royce pulls behind Officer Patton’s truck and his back bumper disappears into the chaotic New Year’s Eve traffic.