Page 30 of Romeo

“Look, I’m just tired, okay?”

He glares at me, blue-green gaze narrowed in a way that makes me feel like the only person on the planet—and not in a good way.“Fine.Then let’s leave.”He uncrosses his arms and pushes off the counter before heading into the living room.

By the time I’ve gotten up and into the living room, Riley is all smiles again as he says goodbye to his family.“Thanks again, Mom, dinner was great.”

“Anytime, honey.”She smiles at him then turns to me.“I do hope to see you again, Jules.”

“Maybe,” I reply.“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying with Riley.”

“Well, if you get bored sitting at his house, you’re more than welcome to come here.”She smiles, though she doesn’t come in for a hug.Something I more than appreciate since I am not a fan of being touched.

At all.

In fact, it’s a recurring nightmare of mine.One that was my reality in what feels like yesterday even though it might as well have been lifetimes ago.

“Thank you.I’ll keep that in mind.”I smile and offer a wave at the rest of the family before following Riley out onto the porch.His dog, Romeo, is lying on the porch alongside four other dogs his same size.

“Hier, Romeo,” he calls, patting his leg.The other dogs simply raise their heads, but Romeo is the only one who gets up.

Fascinating.Well-behaved dogs, that’s for sure.

The drive back to Riley’s house is a silent one, with only the sound of music playing softly through the speakers.But even as it’s silent, I can feel him simmering in the seat beside me.

He puts the truck into Park in front of his house then gets out and rushes around to open my door.When he offers me his hand, I take it, just as I did when we arrived at his parents.Because touching his hand is a lot less stressful than feeling his hard body against mine when I inevitably fall.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t respond as he heads up his porch and unlocks the door.After flipping on the lights, he heads straight into the kitchen to grab a bottle of tea from the refrigerator.

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you.”The words just slip out, but I can’t help the frustration I feel, knowing things are tense right now.

“You didn’t offend me,” he replies.“I know my family can be a lot.You’ve had a stressful couple of weeks, and having you go to my parents’ for dinner was probably a mistake.”

I swallow hard.He’s not going to tell me what a disappointment I am?

“You’re not mad?”Odie would have been furious.The last time he and my grandfather dragged me out to a party I didn’t want to be at, I’d sat in the corner and read—then Odie berated me for not being social enough the moment we were alone.

“I was,” he says.“But not about you wanting to leave.”

“Then what was it?”

“Your façade comment.What exactly did you mean by that?”

I take a deep breath and consider how to word it in a way that doesn’t reveal too much.“When people learn about my past, they tend to shut me out.It’s happened in every friendship I’ve had over the last decade.”

“When they find out what?”

“You know what,” I snap.

“That you’re a recovering alcoholic?”

“That and other things,” I reply.“Things I refuse to get into.”I add the latter because I need him to know this isn’t ‘interview Jules night.’I have no intention of opening that particular can of worms—ever.

“Everyone has things in their past they’re not crazy about.But you will never find a less judgmental family than mine.”

“Everyone thinks that.”

“It’s the truth in my case.We were all raised not to pass judgment.It’s not our place as we’re all guilty of sin in our past and present.So I’ll repeat myself… You will never find a less judgmental family than mine.”

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