Chapter 22 Rodriguez
RODRIGUEZ
The reception is already in full swing when we arrive, and I catch our reflection in the ballroom’s mirrored walls.
Juliette in her bridesmaid dress with her hair down, me in Owen’s dad’s borrowed shirt with a bruised jaw that’s turning an impressive shade of purple.
We look like we’ve been through something, which I guess we have.
“Stop staring at yourself,” Juliette says, but she’s smiling.
“I’m not staring at myself. I’m staring at us.” I touch my jaw gingerly. “We look like we have a story.”
“We look like you got in a bar fight at my sister’s wedding.”
“Exactly. A story.”
The ballroom has been transformed. Soft lighting everywhere, candles on every table, flowers overflowing from centerpieces. The dance floor gleams in the center, and there’s already a crowd at the bar.
“There you are!” Emma appears with a glass of champagne in each hand, slightly tipsy already. “Everyone’s been asking about the fight. You’re famous.”
“Infamous,” I correct.
“Same thing.” She hands us the champagne. “Garrett’s sulking in the corner with Melissa. If looks could kill.”
I glance over and sure enough, Garrett’s at a table near the back, Melissa beside him pressing ice to his nose. He looks rough - worse than me, which brings me probably too much satisfaction.
“Let them sulk,” Juliette says, taking a sip of champagne. “Not my problem anymore.”
My phone buzzes and I pull it out to find the Puckaneers group chat in full meltdown.
Dex
IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS
Brody
Rodriguez is definitely in Canadian jail
Luca
Do we need to call someone? I don’t know how Canadian jail works
Anderson
He’s not in jail
Dex
How do you know
Anderson
Because he’s reading these messages. See the read receipts?
Brody
Maybe the cops are reading them
Dex
Oh shit what if the cops are reading these
I HAVE NEVER COMMITTED A CRIME
Roman
That’s exactly what someone who committed crimes would say
I should probably respond before they do something stupid like actually call the RCMP.
Not in jail. At the reception. Stop being dramatic.
The response is immediate.
Dex
PROOF OF LIFE REQUIRED
Brody
Send a selfie
Luca
With today’s newspaper
Where would I get a newspaper? I’m at a wedding reception
Dex
Good point. Send selfie with timestamp
I take a quick photo - my bruised face prominent, Juliette visible in the background talking to Emma.
Brody
Holy shit your face
Luca
You look like you lost
I won.
Roman
Are you sure about that?
Dex
What’s the other guy look like
Almardon
More importantly - how did she react
To what
Almardon
Your name being ROMEO
Brody
Wait what. She didn’t know???
Dex
OH MY GOD I FORGOT HIS NAME IS ROMEO
Luca
ROMEO AND JULIETTE
Brody
That’s actually insane
Dex
Did she laugh? Please tell me she laughed
Her entire family laughed. For an hour.
Brody
AMAZING
Luca
That’s actually quite poetic
Anderson
Does she call you Romeo now?
Unfortunately yes
Brody
Almardon
Romeo and Juliette got in a bar fight at a wedding
Dex
Shakespeare would be so proud
Luca
Shakespeare would be so confused
Roman
I know someone who can write you a great love story… or tragedy. Your choice.
Before I can respond, the DJ’s voice booms through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the wedding party!”
We line up outside the main doors. The coordinator has us in our new pairs - me with Juliette, Emma with Garrett who won’t make eye contact with anyone.
“Maid of honor Juliette Chastain and groomsman Romeo Rodriguez!”
We walk in together to applause. Someone, probably one of Owen’s college friends, wolf whistles. Juliette’s hand tightens on my arm.
“Everyone’s staring at your face,” she murmurs.
“Good. Let them.”
We take our seats at the head table. Garrett’s been strategically placed at the far end, as far from us as possible.
“Thank you,” Owen says quietly, leaning over. “For earlier. Garrett needed someone to finally tell him off.”
“Pretty sure I did more than tell him off.”
“Yeah, but he deserved it.” Owen glances down the table. “He’s been my best friend since we were kids, but the way he treated Jules was shit. And the way he’s been acting this week, like he has any right to her attention...”
“He won’t be bothering her again.”
“I know. That’s why I’m thanking you.” He raises his beer slightly. “Welcome to the family, man. Officially.”
We clink glasses just as the first course arrives.
Olivia leans across Juliette to address me. “Rodriguez, I need you to know that changing the lineup was the best decision I made today. After marrying Owen, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“The coordinator had a minor stroke, but it was worth it to see Garrett’s face.” She grins wickedly. “Plus now I get the photos I actually want - my sister with someone who adores her.”
“Olivia,” Juliette protests, her cheeks going pink.
“What?” Olivia turns to me. “You do adore her, right?”
“Completely,” I say without hesitation.
“Good answer.” She sits back. “Also your face looks terrible but in a romantic way. Like you defended her honor.”
“I did defend her honor.”
“Exactly. Very romantic. I’m thinking about commissioning an oil painting.”
“Please don’t,” Juliette says.
During a quiet moment, I lean over to Juliette. “Earlier, when you walked into our room in your dress with your hair down...”
“Yeah?”
“I forgot how to breathe for a second.”
She looks at me, surprised. “Really?”
“You wore it down for me. Because I mentioned at the rehearsal that I’d want to see it that way.” I reach over and tuck a strand behind her ear. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“It’s just hair, Romeo.”
The speeches start before I can respond and eventually it’s Juliette’s turn.
She stands, champagne glass in hand, and the room quiets.
“I’m not great at speeches,” she starts, voice slightly shaky. “But my little sister is getting married, so I’m going to try.”
She talks about growing up with Olivia. About how different they are - Olivia outgoing and fearless, Juliette careful and controlled. About how Olivia taught her to be brave.
“When Olivia told me she was engaged, my first thought was that she was too young. Too impulsive. Moving too fast.” Juliette glances at me briefly. “But watching her with Owen this week, I realized something. When you know, you know. And time doesn’t matter when you’ve found your person.”
She’s staring right at me as she says it and I can’t keep the grin off my face hearing my own words from our first night in Toronto used back at me.
“So to Olivia and Owen,” she raises her glass. “May you always be as happy as you are today. And may you always remember that love is worth the risk.”
Everyone drinks. Juliette sits down and immediately wipes her eyes.
“I’m such a disaster,” she mutters.
“You’re perfect.”
“My makeup is running.”
“Still perfect.”
The DJ announces the first dance. Owen and Olivia take the floor to some slow song I don’t recognize. They sway together, Olivia’s dress spreading around them like a cloud, both of them lost in their own world.
“They look happy,” Juliette says softly.
“They look like they know.”
“Know what?”
“What you said. That they found their person.”
She turns to look at me. “Do you believe in that? Finding your person?”
“I didn’t use to.”
“But now?”
I meet her eyes. “Now I know it’s real.”
The moment stretches between us until the DJ calls for the wedding party to join the dance. I pull her close, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers.
“The entire room is staring at us,” she murmurs.
“Let them.”
“They’re probably wondering why I’m dancing with someone who looks like they went ten rounds with a hockey enforcer.”
“Three rounds. Maybe four. And you’re dancing with me because I’m devastatingly handsome.”
“That’s one theory.”
“What’s another?”
She pretends to think. “Temporary insanity?”
“I’ll take it.”
We turn slowly and I catch sight of Garrett and Melissa. He’s watching us, his expression unreadable behind the tape on his nose. Melissa is saying something to him, her hand on his arm, but he’s not listening.
“Garrett’s watching,” I tell Juliette.
“I know.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No.” She looks up at me. “Let him watch. Let him see what it looks like when someone actually wants to be with me.”
“I more than want to be with you.”
“Yeah?”
“JuJu, I—” I stop. Not here. Not now. Not in the middle of her sister’s wedding with everyone watching. “Yeah.”
She knows what I almost said. I can see it in her eyes. But she doesn’t push, just rests her head against my chest and lets me hold her while we sway.
“Your family is pretty great,” I finally say.
“They’re a lot.”
“In the best way. They all seem to really love you.”
“They love the idea of me being happy.” She pauses. “They think you make me happy.”
“Do I?”
She looks up at me again. “You know you do.”
“Say it anyway.”
“You’re fishing for compliments.”
“I’m fishing for confirmation that this is real. That you’re not going to wake up tomorrow and realize I’m some hockey player who got arrested at your sister’s wedding.”
“Detained,” she corrects. “You were detained, not arrested. Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“When the cops showed up and said your name was Romeo, I almost died.”
“We agreed never to discuss that.”
“No, you suggested we never discuss it. I didn’t agree to anything.” She’s grinning now. “Romeo Rodriguez. It’s like the universe is mocking us.”
“Or bringing us together.”
“That’s cheesy.”
The music shifts to something faster. The dance floor fills up around us.
“Want to get some air?” I ask.
“God yes.”
We escape to the balcony overlooking the Toronto skyline. It’s cold but not unbearable. The city lights stretch out below us, and I can hear the muffled sound of music from inside.
“Thank you, for being here.” She tilts her face up to me. “For wearing your heart on your sleeve even when it’s terrifying.”
“It’s only terrifying when you don’t reciprocate.”
“Romeo...”
“I know you’re not ready to say it. I’m not pushing. I just—” I run my hand through my hair. “I look at you and I see everything. Our whole future. And I know that’s too much too fast but I can’t help it.”
“Garrett cheated on me. Lied to me. Made me feel like I wasn’t enough.” She turns to me. “I thought I had trust issues. But with you...” She trails off.
“With me?”
“With you I forget to be scared.” She steps closer. “And that terrifies me more than anything.”
I want to kiss her. To tell her I love her. Promise her forever right here on this balcony with the Toronto skyline as witness.
Instead I say, “One day at a time, JuJu. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“You literally talked about marrying me yesterday.”
“That’s aspirational. The day-to-day is what matters.”
She studies my face. “You mean that?”
“I mean it.”
She goes up on her toes and kisses me. Soft and sweet and tasting like champagne.
“Okay,” she says against my mouth. “One day at a time.”
The door opens and Emma stumbles out. “There you are! They’re doing the bouquet toss! Jules, you have to—oh.” She sees us and grins. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Juliette says, shooting me a look. “We’re coming.”
We follow Emma back inside where a crowd of women are gathering. Juliette joins them reluctantly while I stand with the other guys near the bar.
“Twenty bucks she catches it,” Owen says, appearing beside me.
“No bet. Olivia’s going to aim for her.”
Sure enough, when Olivia turns her back and tosses, the bouquet sails directly to Juliette, who catches it reflexively then immediately looks horrified.
“Set up,” I call out.
“Completely rigged,” she agrees, but she’s laughing.
By midnight, the party is winding down. Olivia and Owen make their grand exit through a tunnel of sparklers. Juliette cries again watching them go.
“You okay?” I ask.
“My baby sister is married,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I’ve cried more today than in the past year combined.”
“It’s been an emotional day.”
“That’s an understatement.” She looks at me, bruised face and all. “Ready to go?”
“With you? Always ready.”
We’re walking toward the ballroom doors, weaving between tables and stopping to say our goodbyes as we go. Her parents hug us both. Her dad whispers “thank you” in my ear. Her mom tells Juliette to “hold onto this one.”
Juliette holds my hand and the bouquet as we navigate through the lingering guests.
“So you caught the bouquet,” I say casually.
“Olivia threw it directly at my face.”
“Still counts.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure it doesn’t.”
She hip-checks me. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Too late. I’m already full of ideas.”
“One day at a time, remember?”
“Right. One day at a time.” I pause. “But just so we’re clear, when we do get married—”
“Romeo!”
“What? I said when, not tomorrow.”
She shakes her head but she’s smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s why you love me.”
She stops walking. For a second I think I pushed too far. Then she says quietly, “Yeah. It is.”
My heart stops. “JuJu—”
“I’m not saying it yet,” she says quickly. “But... yeah.”
It’s not the words. But it’s close. Close enough that I can be patient. We start walking again, almost at the ballroom doors now.
“Hey,” I say. “You remember this morning? The conversation we had?”
“Which conversation? We had several.”
“The one about the jetted tub.”
She looks at me. “I remember.”
“I promised you bubbles and stolen champagne and a completely inappropriate use of hotel amenities.”
“You did promise that.”
“Want to get out of here?”
I can see her internal debate - the responsible maid of honor versus the woman who wants what I’m offering.
“Yes,” she says. “Go steal some champagne.”