Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3)

by Melanie Shawn

  If she noticed the resemblance, it didn’t show. Her pace didn’t slow as her father stood to greet her. He held out his hand and she shook it briefly before lowering to the chair across from him.

  “Can I help you?” A young woman with a black T-shirt with The Grind House logo on the chest asked, snapping me back to reality.

  “Can I have a large, black coffee?”

  She gave me the same look most Gen Z baristas did when I ordered my basic drink. One of confusion and borderline disdain. “Sure.”

  I grabbed a seat at a table that allowed me to see both Reggie and Jules in profile. Anyone who didn’t know the magnitude of what was transpiring would assume that this was some sort of business meeting, based off the energy that Jules was exuding.

  She’d taken her iPad from her bag and had it sitting in front of her. I’d noticed her typing notes during the drive and asked her if she was working. She’d said she was writing down everything she wanted to ask, so she didn’t forget.

  That was my Jules. Always prepared. Damn, I loved her.

  Reggie was doing most of the talking and I didn’t need to be a body language expert to see that Juliette was keeping him at arm’s length.

  My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Jared, asking if we’d made it and how it was going. I typed back that we had and that Jules was talking to him now. Before I put my phone away I decided to send her a message.

  Meeting dads is fun. All the cool kids are doing it.

  I put my phone back in my pocket and saw her look down at her device. A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth and knowing that I was the one who put it there gave me a bigger high than playing sold out crowds at Madison Square Garden.

  CHAPTER 27

  Juliette

  The headlights of the ’55 Chevy Bel Air shone on the “Welcome To Oasis” sign.

  We’d left town in the light of day and were returning under the cover of night. The ride back had taken close to five hours thanks to several detours due to highway construction. I felt like I’d aged ten years since I’d left the villa that morning, and I felt like a completely different person from when I’d left my condo to go stay in the villa on Friday.

  So much had happened in that time. I’d lost my virginity to the only man I ever loved. I turned thirty. And I’d seen my father for the first time in nearly twenty-five years.

  I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about two of those things. Being thirty was fine. I was looking forward to my thirties.

  As far as seeing my father, I’d gotten answers to questions I’d been carrying around for over two decades. I was still processing it all. I had to give my father credit, he didn’t make any excuses for his behavior. He owned up to what he’d done, thanked me profusely for meeting with him, and said he understood if I never wanted to see him again. Which, I’d had no plans to do before talking to him, but now…now I wasn’t so sure.

  As far as having sex with Romeo, the act itself or acts were definitely a good thing. It was just the aftermath that was concerning me. He’d spent our last day together driving me to see my father, which was definitely not how I would’ve chosen to spend our last few hours. Part of me appreciated his support, but another part of me felt it was much more of a friend move than a romantic one.

  Not that I wanted anything romantic from him. Even if I was able to put the past behind me, he lived in California. And he was a musician. Neither of those things were conducive to us having a healthy relationship.

  “Make a left here,” I directed Romeo to turn down my street.

  It felt strange not to be going back to the villa, but since it would soon be occupied for a corporate retreat, that wasn’t an option. We hadn’t discussed where Romeo would be staying that night, but he was a grown man, I was sure he’d figure it out.

  Of course part of me, a huge part of me, wanted him to stay with me. But that was exactly why he shouldn’t. Last night, I’d had a plan to keep my distance. But then I was blindsided by walking into candles, a birthday cake, and a serenade. Tonight, there was none of that.

  Except for when he’d asked me if I was okay and I’d told him I was fine, we hadn’t spoken the entire ride home.

  “It’s the one with the white porch.” The porch was the reason I’d leased the property. It had a swing just like my grandparents’ farm.

  “That looks just like Yaya’s swing.”

  “Yep.” My heart pinged with pain.

  I’d missed my grandparents every day for ten years, but I’d compartmentalized those feelings. Being around Romeo this weekend had unearthed all of the pain that I’d buried. Seeing my father had only made me appreciate my grandparents even more. They’d stepped up when he left us.

  This entire weekend had been one, big, emotional upheaval. I felt like my nerves were exposed and raw. The slightest bump, brush, or touch and I’d fall apart. I’d never felt this close to a full-fledged nervous breakdown.

  I needed time to process everything that had happened. So, as much as I’d love nothing more than to spend one last night with Romeo, I knew that I wasn’t in the right state of mind for that to happen.

  “Thanks for the ride and…it was nice seeing you,” I said before the car even came to a complete stop in front of my condo.

  “You’re not going to invite me in? I don’t get a tour of your house?” He cut the engine.

  No. He didn’t. It was going to be hard enough to ever walk into the villa and not see and feel Romeo in every single room. Thankfully, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been inside the villa before this weekend.

  But my home was another story. If he came in, even for a tour, his image would be branded in my mind in every room.

  Like it’s not already? My snarky inner voice piped up.

  It was true. I’d had plenty of fantasies of him doing the exact things he’d done to me this weekend in multiple rooms of my house. He was in my soul. There was no escaping him. Still, I didn’t need to feed the beast.

  “I’m tired.” My excuse was weak but it wasn’t a lie. I was exhausted.

  “Jules.” His hand reached across the seat and covered my wrist. It was the first contact that he’d made with me since we’d had sex that morning. An explosion of bliss spread up my arm and down my body.

  As I stared into his electric-blue eyes, all I could hear was the sound of my breath and the pounding of my heart. My lips tingled for his, my hands twitched with the need to touch him, and my body ached to feel him inside of me.

  Maybe one more night wouldn’t be so bad.

  I’d love to forget about everything and lose myself in Romeo. I might not have a lot of my life figured out right now, but I did know that Calgon had nothing on Romeo. His ability to take me away was unmatched.

  And if the memories were too awful to handle I could always move.

  I was opening my mouth to say yes, that he could come inside, when his phone that was resting on the console lit up. I looked down and saw that it was a text with a picture of a large bouquet of flowers from a Karina with the message: Thank you so much! Missed you last night thanks for the flowers! And yes, I’d love to hook up when you get back to LA!

  My heart lodged in my throat. He’d serenaded me with a song. He’d made love to me five times. And still, he’d sent another woman flowers saying that he wanted to see her soon. Tears pooled in my eyes.

  “Goodbye, Romeo.” I grabbed my bag and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me.

  “Jules.” I heard him behind me but I didn’t turn to face him.

  I was moving as fast as my feet would take me, rushing to my front door. I did not want him to see me crying. This wasn’t going to be a repeat of my eighteenth birthday where I left him in tears. I was a grown woman. I’d told myself not to make more of this weekend than it was. He hadn’t made any promises to me. There was nothing to cry about.

  My head knew that, but my heart was another story.

  “I’m tired. G
oodnight.” I could hear that my voice was shaky as I pulled my keys from my purse.

  “Jules,” Romeo repeated my name in that deep, gravelly way that caused the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

  I needed to get away from him. Desperation built inside of me as I fumbled with my keys. My hands were shaking as all of the feelings I’d suppressed for my entire life swelled up in me. I felt like I was about to explode. I’d never let myself really cry or face any of the emotional trauma I’d experienced. Everything had just been too much and I hadn’t had any release. I needed to get inside before I had a full-fledged meltdown.

  I tried to unlock the door but the keys went tumbling out of my hand and to the ground. The tears that had been welling in my eyes sprang out.

  “Shit.” I cursed as I bent down to pick the keys up.

  Romeo got to them before me and had the door open before I straightened again. His arm raised above my head, holding it open as I walked in. I heard his footsteps follow behind me and the door clicked shut.

  I knew that I’d have to face him. He’d never leave if I was upset. I needed to convince him that I was fine and that I was just tired.

  “Jules, talk to me. What’s wrong? Is it your dad? I was trying to give you space and not ask a million questions, but—”

  “I’m fine.” I set my purse on the entry table and took a deep breath before turning around.

  “Did you find out the answers to the questions you had?”

  I nodded and figured if I gave him the answers he was looking for it might expedite his leaving. “He was a struggling addict and my mom dying put him over the edge. He left us at the neighbors to go score. He said he’d planned on coming back to get us but one day turned into a week, and a week turned into a month, and then year. He didn’t really grasp what he’d done until he got sober and then he was sure it was too late.”

  “And was it?” Romeo asked. “Was it too late? Is it too late, Jules?”

  The weight of the question and the look in Romeo’s eyes told me that he wasn’t just asking about my relationship with my dad, but also, my relationship with him.

  I was done playing games and tiptoeing around our situation. He wanted to pretend to be this great guy who cared about me and wrote me songs, but then sent another woman flowers and asked to hook up with her when he got back to L.A.? I don’t think so. “For us or for my dad?”

  “For us.”

  He had some nerve. I was an adult, despite my late-in-life virginity. I knew that just because we’d had sex it didn’t mean that he wasn’t seeing other people. But that didn’t mean I was okay with it. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Karina?”

  CHAPTER 28

  Romeo

  “Karina?” I repeated, having no idea what she was talking about.

  “Yeah, Karina. She just texted you.”

  I hadn’t looked at the text because I’d been so focused on her and I’d left my phone in my car but I only knew one Karina. “Karina Black? She texted me?”

  “You’re seeing Karina Black?! She’s married to Ryan Perkins!”

  “I’m not seeing her.” I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Really? Then why did you send her flowers? Why did she miss you last night when you were with me? Why did she say that she’d love to hook up when you get back to L.A.?”

  “You’re jealous.” I smiled. I didn’t mean to, it was just that seeing her this upset about the thought that I was seeing someone else gave me hope.

  “You think this is funny?! This isn’t funny!”

  “No. This isn’t funny and it isn’t what you think. I sent Karina flowers because she asked me to co-host the PMAs with her after her co-host went into rehab and I couldn’t because I was coming here. The awards were last night and I sent her flowers. And the hooking up is collaborating. We’ve talked about working together for a while and now that I’m putting out a solo album, I thought the time was right.”

  Jules stared at me with a blank expression on her face. Her chest was still rising and falling at a rapid rate, but she wasn’t crying and she no longer looked like she wanted to kill me. “Karina Black wanted you to host the Pop Music Awards?”

  “Co-host. Yes.”

  “And you said no?!” Her eyes widened once again.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?’

  “Because I was coming here.”

  “You didn’t host the PMAs with Karina Black because you were coming here?!”

  “Yes.”

  “You could’ve come next weekend,” she emphasized the word next as if I’d made the wrong decision.

  “No. I couldn’t,” I stated with a calm authority.

  “That’s…” She shook her head back and forth, at a loss for words.

  I knew what they’d be when she did find them. Stupid. Ridiculous. Absurd.

  I had my own for word for what it was. “Love. That’s love. I love you, Jules. I have for so long that I don’t remember what it’s like not to love you. And I’ve been an idiot with his head up his ass for too long.

  “I couldn’t wait another week. I couldn’t wait another day. I had to come see you. I had to try and make things right with you. I had to tell you that I’m sorry about how I handled things all those years ago when you did something I wasn’t brave enough to do. You told me how you felt about me the second that it was…”

  “Legal,” she said flatly.

  “I was going to say appropriate, but yeah, as soon as it was legal. You poured out your heart, laid it all on the line, and I didn’t. I didn’t tell you how I felt or how much I loved you. I thought I was protecting you. I knew that my life was about to change and I didn’t want to hurt you. I was doing the noble thing, or at least that’s what I told myself. But after some serious soul-searching and therapy, I think who I was really protecting was me. If I told you how I felt, if I told you that I loved you, that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved, then what would happen if you didn’t love me back?”

  “I told you that I loved you!” she countered defensively. “And you knew. I know you knew how I felt, even before I gave you that letter!”

  “I know. You looked at me like I was your hero. Like I could do no wrong. Like I was invincible. You looked at me like I was Superman. From the second you took my hand in that hay maze you had me up on a pedestal and I was scared to fall off of it. I was scared not to be that hero, that superhero in your eyes.”

  “You don’t think that what you did knocked you off that pedestal?!”

  It was clear by her inflection that was exactly what it had done.

  “I know it did, but I wasn’t ready to face it. To face you. I wasn’t ready for you to look at me the way you did when you saw me at the airport.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “And how was that?”

  “Like I was nothing to you. Like you didn’t feel anything for me. Like I wasn’t Superman. Like I wasn’t your hero.”

  She let out a long sigh and I could see that what I was saying was starting to sink in. I figured now was the right time to lay it all out.

  I continued, “I’m not seeing Karina Black, or anyone else. I’ve never loved anyone but you. It’s only ever been you, Jules.”

  “Really?” She still didn’t seem convinced. “Then whose lips are those?” She pointed to my neck.

  “The lips?” I reached up and touched my tattoo and smiled again. “Whose lips do you think they are?”

  Her hands flew up in frustration and tears ran down her face once more. “How am I supposed to know that?”

  I hated seeing Jules crying. It broke my heart, but knowing that the tears were at least partly because she cared about me made it a little easier.

  “They’re yours,” I assured her.

  “What?” Her face scrunched.

  “They’re your lips.”

  “No, they’re not,” she quickly disputed.

  “Yes, they are.” And I had proof. I pulled my wallet out and car
efully removed her letter. “You kissed the envelope. When the lipstick started fading, I had a tattoo artist trace them and tattoo them on my neck.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Is that…my letter?”

  “It is.”

  “You kept it?” Her hand reached out and I handed it to her. “All these years.”

  I handed it to her. “I read it every day. Sometimes two or three times a day.”

  She unfolded the envelope and slid the papers out. I watched as her eyes scanned the paper.

  “That letter, your words, your heart was the only piece of home I had. I don’t know if I would’ve made it without it. You were always with me, Jules.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Juliette

  My hands shook as I held the letter. My letter. The paper was thin and the ink was faded.

  “I love you, Jules,” Romeo breathed.

  His sandpaper whisper hit me hard. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the impact of his words, but the sudden darkness only made them sink in deeper. I was lightheaded. These were the words that I’d always wanted to hear. Was it possible that everything I’d ever dreamed of, everything I’ve ever wanted, was real and right in front of me?

  My eyes sprang open again and I saw that it was. In the short time my eyes had been shut, Romeo had closed the distance between us. He stood directly in front of me now. The heat from his skin was overwhelming and potent, and I struggled to stay on my feet despite the sudden buckling in my knees.

  I heard a small whimper and was surprised when I realized that it was coming from me. Damn. I’d lost all control of my body’s response to Romeo. But wasn’t that the way it had always been? Why was I suddenly so surprised now?

  He took the letter from my hands seconds before it would’ve slid out and he set it on the table behind me. Then he tenderly reached up and touched the side of my face, stroking my jaw with his thumb, bringing on another wave of lightheadedness. His thumb wiped away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks.