Don’t ask me how or why it happened. Don’t tell me it’s immature or impulsive.
Like I told her, sometimes you just know.
And I know.
Chapter Eight
“Good night, good night!
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it
be morrow.”
- Romeo and Juliet (Act 2, Scene 2)
Kathleen
Joe and I are quiet on the ride home from Elitchs. It doesn’t take long, so it isn’t awkward. He kisses me again outside my hotel door; the second embrace is as soft and sweet as the first was exhilarating and passionate.
He winds my fingers through his and pitches his voice low. “Have breakfast with me.”
I hesitate. “Okay, but it will have to be early, like at eight? And . . . I might have James with me.”
“Great. I’ll bring my cousin.”
I pause. “Your cousin?”
“Didn’t I tell you he was with me?”
“You mentioned him earlier, but no. I’d love to meet him, but . . . James is, I mean he isn’t—”
He touches my lips with a finger. “I don’t care what he’s like.”
I shake my head. “I hope you feel the same way after breakfast.”
As I say the words, I realize I mean more than how he feels about James. How he feels about me, too.
He levels his gaze to mine. His voice is calm and sure as he says, “I will, Kathleen. I promise.”
Our lips touch again, and then I slip inside, Junior cradled in my arms.
I lean against the door, exhausted but exhilarated, and listen to Joe whistle softly as he moves down the hallway to the elevators.
The television is on in the room, casting a dim light toward the beds. James and Juliet are asleep. Despite the boring cream walls, the commercial carpet, and the mass-produced artwork on the walls, the room, the hotel, Denver—the world—are suddenly beautiful and wondrous and perfect.
I wake James early for breakfast. He’s sprawled diagonally across his bed in his underwear, of course, with his T-shirt up around his neck, the covers in ruins. I avoid looking any closer as I shake him.
“Why do I have to go? I want room service again,” he mutters into his pillow. Juliet cracks an emerald eye open, then closes it again. That’s okay by me. She needs her beauty rest. It will be a long morning for her.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” I say.
James cracks open a sleep-encrusted eye. “Who?”
“Remember the man I went out with last night? Joe?”
My brother flops onto his back. “Yeah. You sent me a photo of his ID.”
“He wants to meet you, and he’s bringing his cousin. So, can you please be on your best behavior?”
He yawns. “I haven’t said I’ll go yet.”
I’m ready with an incentive. “If you come and if you’re nice to them, I’ll get you a gift card to Applebee’s.” He loves Applebee’s. If I take him out to dinner and let him choose, nine times out of ten, he’ll choose it. He wants those baby back ribs.
He thinks about it. “How much?”
“Two hundred.” It will be well worth it. He’ll be eating out, and so out of my hair, for the next two weeks.
“’Kay. I’ll go. First dibs on the bathtub.” He scrambles out of bed and into the bathroom before I can move.
I check my watch. Given the epic length of James’s baths, I’ll have just enough time to get ready before we have to meet Joe and his cousin. I pluck a sleepy Juliet off her pillow and bring her over to my bed to cuddle. She stretches out her claws and kneads my pajama-clad thighs, then trills and rubs against me. I decided a long time ago that her trill means good morning.
Joe Junior watches us from the chair beside my bed with his unblinking, stitched on eyes. When I’d woken up, the stuffed cat was the only proof that last night had happened. I can’t put words to how I feel about the date, Joe, and our fledgling relationship. It’s . . . surreal.
I hope everything is exactly the same between us this morning and that the real world won’t intrude.
My brother takes exactly as long as I think he will to get ready, leaving the toilet seat up and the bathroom steamy and bathwater on the floor. I gather my hair in a cap I brought from home and shower quickly.
After drying off, I slip into a high-necked pink and white patterned maxi dress and sandals. As thrilled as I am to see Joe again, I’m equally anticipating Juliet’s first celebrity meet and greet and the award ceremony tonight.
If James doesn’t act like, well, James, then today might be the best birthday of my life.
After I feed Juliet her breakfast, refresh her litter box, and give her plenty of kisses, James and I take the elevator down to the hotel restaurant. I search the occupied tables for Joe. He sees me and stands, holding a gorgeous bouquet of cut flowers.
Joy sings in my heart as he hands me the bouquet, kisses me on the cheek, and wishes me a happy birthday.
“Joe,” I say, “I’d like you to meet my brother, James Caplin. James, this is Joe Davis.”
“Hey, what’s up?” James looks past Joe. “How’s the buffet? Does it look good? Do they have bacon? I like it fried crisp. Is it fried crisp?”
“James.” I hiss in his ear. “Remember—Best. Behavior.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it.”
Joe winks at me before speaking to James. “I can smell that they have bacon, but I’m not sure how crisp it is. Nice to meet you, James. You’re a lucky guy.”
My brother eyes him. “Yeah, why?”
“Because you have such an incredible woman as a sister.”
James eyes me and snorts, then sits in the closest chair. Joe pulls out a chair for me on the other side of the table, and slides in beside me.
“Where’s your cousin?” I ask.
“I don’t think he’ll make it. He ended up staying at the lounge for a little too long last night.” He winks at me.
I turn to him. “He was there when we met? I didn’t know that.”
“It didn’t seem like the right time to introduce you. Hopefully, he’ll rally later today.”
“I’m going to check out the buffet,” James interrupts.
“Relax,” I tell him. “Order a drink or something first.”
“I’m starving. I’ll be right back.” He shoots so far back in his chair that he nails the woman behind him. She gives my brother’s back a dirty look and then turns her stare on Joe and me. I apologize to her and hurry to push his chair back in.
“So that’s James,” I say to Joe as I sit back down in my chair.
“He seems—”
I hold up a hand. “Please, don’t lie.”
Joe pulls my hand to his lips and kisses my palm, sending electricity zipping across my body. “I wasn’t going to lie. I was going to say he seems hungry.”
I smile. “Thanks. That’s very . . . accurate.”
James returns and manages to pull his chair out without assaulting anyone. Our waiter comes by and asks what we’d like to drink. The question is barely out of his mouth before James orders.