Romy and Juliet Read online

  ROMY AND JULIET

  By Everly James

  Copyright 2018

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

  FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

  CHAPTER TEN

  PRESENT DAY

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THIRTEEN YEARS EARLIER

  SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PRESENT DAY

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TEN YEARS EARLIER

  SOPHOMORE YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PRESENT DAY

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JUNIOR YEAR

  NINE YEARS AGO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PRESENT DAY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  SENIOR YEAR

  EIGHT YEARS AGO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  ONE YEAR LATER

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  ONE YEAR LATER

  CHAPTER ONE

  Romy Mitchell walked through the halls of her old high school, her leopard print ballet flats flopping against the waxed linoleum floor. The air smelled like wood polish and bleach; it all had the temporarily clean look that a school could only have at the end of a summer free of students. The beige lockers were even shining, chipped paint and all. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket but she ignored it.

  She already knew it was her mother. For the fifth time that morning.

  It was only eight a.m.

  She had purposely taken the long way through the school to give the air conditioner time to stop the combined nervous and heat-induced sweat that was pricking at her skin. She had spent the last six years blissfully ensconced in a hamlet in northern Montana. Sure, the winters were brutal, but at least she could avoid the scorching, five-month-long South Texas summers. Despite spending half of her life in the Hill Country town of Sterling, Texas, she hadn’t ever truly acclimated to the heat.

  The summertime cicadas buzzed outside so loudly in the gnarled oaks surrounding the one-story school she could hear them clearly in the hallway. A door opened to Romy’s right and a tall, handsome man stepped out. He was young—Romy’s age—and wore sharply pressed khakis, dusty cowboy boots, and a neat button-down shirt in a blue that set off his eyes.

  “Nick?” Romy asked, stopping in her tracks. “Nick Darden?”

  The man squinted his eyes, a curl of brown hair falling over his forehead. “Romy Mitchell?”

  “Oh my God!” Romy squealed, rushing over and giving him a bear hug. He swept her off her feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Me? I’ve been here. I thought you were in Canada or something.”

  “Montana. But I was about five miles away from the Canadian border, so close enough. You teach here? Seriously?”

  “Calculus,” Nick explained. “And I also coach the girls’ volleyball team in my spare time.” He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, eyeing Romy up and down. It didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. They’d been best friends in high school; theirs was a completely platonic relationship. Well, they’d shared a kiss once after stealing a bottle of Jack Daniels from Romy’s dad’s liquor cabinet. They drank the whole thing in the back of Nick’s truck bed one night during spring break. But that was the only time. “You look incredible. Hot, even.”

  Romy did a little curtsy. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I bet the girls fall all over themselves for you.”

  Nick shrugged, the tips of his ears burning pink. “I do alright. You still haven’t told me why you’re standing in the hallowed hallways of Sterling Prep a decade after we graduated.”

  “I’m interviewing for a job, actually,” Romy explained. “I’m maybe filling the English teacher position if all goes well.

  Nick beamed at her. “Nice!”

  “I’ve gotta walk to the principal’s office. Want to join me?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time the two of us went to the principal’s office together,” Nick said with a grin, staying in lockstep with her. He yawned. “I’ve been here for hours already, trying to get everything done before school starts in two weeks. I like to get here before the other teachers show up. Otherwise, they’re in and out of my room all day distracting me.”

  “You must surely be the hot teacher. It’s not surprising,” Romy said, glancing at his left hand, which she saw was bare of any jewelry. “Most eligible bachelor, too?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Something like that.” They stopped at the door of the front office. “This is where I leave you.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll take you out tonight for drinks.”

  “I have dinner with the family,” Romy groaned in reply.

  “Even better. You’ll really need drinks after that.”

  Romy gave him her number and her phone buzzed.

  “I just texted you.” He reached down and kissed Romy on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, alright? Good look with…that.” He pointed at the principal’s office with wide eyes.

  “Gee, thanks!” Romy went inside. The secretary, who had been an eighty-year-old man back in her day, had been replaced with a guy who couldn’t have been much older than twenty-two.

  “I’m Romy Mitchell. I’m here to see Dr. Bell.”

  The kid grinned. “She’s waiting for you.”

  “Great,” Romy muttered. She walked through to the back office, knocking twice on the door and holding her breath. Nick was right; this wasn’t her first time seeing Dr. Bell, the stern, elderly principal who doled out punishments looking down her thin nose. Romy had spent probably three weeks of her senior year doing all-day community service to make up for all the classes she’d missed.

  “Come in!” said a gravelly, feminine voice.

  The sound of it made Romy’s blood run cold. She could feel memories pressing at the edges of her mind, knocking to get inside. But she wasn’t going to let them in. Not now. Not yet. She opened the door and stepped inside, expecting the familiar dark, wood-paneled office that felt like a tomb.

  Instead, it was airy. The blinds were thrown up, with gauzy linen curtains hanging on either side. The wood paneling had been painted a gorgeous cream color, and there were brightly colored books everywhere. The office smelled like cinnamon and cloves. Romy was so stunned she didn’t even bother looking behind the desk.

  A woman, no older than forty, coughed into a tissue. “Sorry about my voi
ce!” she said. “Summer colds are a bitch.”

  It wasn’t Dr. Bell. Well, the name plate at the front of the desk said ‘Dr. Bell,’ but this was most definitely not Dr. Bell. A gorgeous woman with thick, black, glossy hair and impeccable makeup was sitting there. She stood up and held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Bell, nice to meet you.”

  Romy gaped at her. “You’re Dr. Bell? Are you sure?”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry! You don’t know. I’m the late Dr. Bell’s niece.”

  “Late Dr. Bell…”

  “Here, please, have a seat. I should have specified in my email correspondence to you. My aunt died a few years ago. Right here in this office, actually.”

  Romy’s eyes went wide.

  “I’m kidding. She was at home. Just…dropped dead. She was your principal, right?”

  “Yeah,” Romy replied. “She was—” But Romy knew the best way to kick off an interview wasn’t by saying how much she hated her potential boss’s aunt.

  “A right old bitch,” Dr. Bell finished.

  “Well, yeah,” Romy laughed.

  “Don’t worry, my whole family used to say she lived so long only out of bitterness and spite. I like to think I’m not like her, though. I grew up in Austin, went to college there. Got my doctorate on the East Coast, worked for a while teaching at a small women’s college out there. After my aunt died, I got a phone call from the school board asking me if I had an interest in moving to Sterling.”

  “And you said yes?” Romy asked, incredulous.

  Dr. Bell laughed. “I grew up coming here during the summers when I was very, very little. I loved it. Downtown is adorable, there are trees everywhere, ample land, and the people are friendly. I couldn’t resist the opportunity.” Dr. Bell spread her hands out. “A few coats of paint and some staffing changes later, and here we are. But enough about me. I want to offer you the job.”

  Romy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? You don’t even know—”

  “I know enough. You’re highly educated. You have an incredible resume and glowing references. Your family is well-established in the town. You have roots here. You’re not going to go running off after a year. You’re an investment for this school. And I want to offer you a full-time position here teaching in the English department.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Bell leaned back in her chair. “I just need an answer.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “No, no. I said Tuesday. Not Monday. Seriously? Seriously? You’re fucking me like this and we haven’t even been on a first date,” Juliet Hudson yelled into the phone. “Dale. Dale. Seriously. You can’t do this to me, I—” The line went dead. “He hung up on me. Unbelievable.” She looked across her desk at her assistant.

  “Maybe it was the sexual harassment line that got him,” Carrie said drolly.

  “Please. He’s grabbed my ass at least eight times since I started at this firm. I think I’ll be fine.” Juliet rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Why do I work here again?”

  Carrie leaned back in her chair and sipped from her Starbucks cup. “It might be the six-figure salary and the corner office.” She set her cup down. “Let’s go to Midtown and get lunch. Maybe get our nails done or something?”

  “I’d love nothing more than to do that, but the deposition is tomorrow,” Juliet sighed. Her desk was piled with papers. The windows were letting in tempting, gorgeous mid-August sun.

  “This is New York City. The weather won’t stay like this forever,” Carrie pointed out. She stood up and stretched. “I’m going to my desk. Buzz me if you want to go out, otherwise I’ll just order sandwiches from downstairs. Again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. All we do is work. I get it.”

  Carrie paused at the door. “I’m just saying, you haven’t been on a date in five hundred years. You haven’t been on a vacation in nine hundred years. You haven’t been home in even longer.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  Carrie blew her a kiss and shut the door.

  Juliet fell into a pile of work so deep she forgot all time and space. She wasn’t sure how much later it was when Carrie opened the door.

  “I’m not hungry,” Juliet replied without looking up. “Hold onto the sandwich for another hour.”

  Carrie didn’t reply.

  Juliet scribbled notes on a document. “Seriously, Carrie. Just hang onto my food, will you?”

  “Juliet. It’s your mother. Something’s happened.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Romy stood in her childhood bedroom, looking at a space that was totally unrecognizable. Maybe some parents enjoyed keeping everything the same, but Romy was certain her mother had the decorator come in the day Romy left for college. In high school, her bright purple walls had been covered in posters of Tegan and Sara and Fall Out Boy, with leopard print accents and fairy lights. Now, it was a tasteful slate grey with boring cream accents and watercolor paintings of the ocean.

  Romy hated it.

  “Romy,” her mother said from behind her. “All your boxes just arrived and they’re cluttering up the front entryway. I told the staff to bring them up here.”

  “No,” Romy replied. “I want the cottage.”

  “Grandpa’s cottage? It’s still filled with his stuff. It hasn’t been touched in years.”

  “I don’t care,” Romy said. “I’m living in Sterling now, I’m not just visiting. I need a home. If I can’t have the cottage, I’m moving somewhere in town.” She knew by the look on her mother’s face that she’d hit her mark.

  “The whole point of you coming home is for you to be close to the family,” Mrs. Mitchell said, whispering the last word as she always did, as if saying the word out loud would make it too real. “If you live in town, how will you be able to bond with your nieces and nephews?”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe that’s not why I moved home?” Romy replied. She sighed and didn’t wait for a reply. “Tell the staff not to bother, I’ll move everything myself.” She pushed past her mother and ran down the stairs, ignoring whatever her mother was saying after her.

  It was boiling hot outside as she carried two of the lighter boxes down the twisting crushed quartz path away from the house. Through the thick, knotted, low trees, she could just make out the quarried stone of the small cottage where her late grandfather had worked every single day since he had moved to Sterling a decade and a half previous. Romy used to visit this little house at lunchtime with a basket full of sandwiches. He’d stop his architectural drafting and eat lunch with her on the screened-in porch. It was her favorite part of each day.

  She set the boxes down on the leaf-covered front stoop and swept her hand underneath the dirty front mat, her fingers twisting around the old key. She unlocked the front door and was greeted by slightly stale air that smelled faintly of mothballs and disuse. The door stopped before it swung all the way open. Romy pushed on it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “What the—” She stuck her head inside and screamed in frustration.

  Five minutes later, she was standing in the bustling kitchen where the catering staff was preparing that night’s family dinner. “Mother.”

  Mrs. Mitchell spun around on her high heels. She was wearing a moisturizing face mask and her hair was up in a shower cap, guilt written all over her Botoxed face. “Romy, I can explain.”

  “You’ve been using Grandpa’s cottage as storage for your party decorations?”

  “Romy—”

  “Don’t you have an entirely renovated barn to store your crap in?”

  “It’s not air conditioned—”

  “You have the basement in this house for that!” Romy barked.

  “We’re renovating it to make a play area for the kids,” Mrs. Mitchell sighed. “Besides, it’s only a few boxes. You can move around them, can’t you?”

  Romy opened her mouth to retort but held back, an idea coming to her. “Right. Of course I can. I’ll see you at dinner, then.”


  CHAPTER FOUR

  Juliet rushed around her apartment in a panic, throwing random clothes into a suitcase while Carrie pulled them out patiently to re-fold them.

  “Jules, let me pack,” Carrie said kindly. “We only have thirty minutes until your Lyft gets here.”

  Juliet opened the top drawer of her dresser and stood there, staring into the twisted pile of underwear and bras. The image began to quiver and disappear before her eyes “Something’s happening.” Her breath came in sharp, shallow rasps. “I can’t see. What’s happening. Carrie! What—what’s happening?”

  Carrie stood up and put her arms around Juliet, squeezing her tightly. “You’re crying, Jules. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  Juliet only realized then that there were tears filling up her eyes and rolling down her face. She broke down fully sobbing. “I’m so scared.”

  “I know.”

  After a few minutes, Carrie pulled herself away. “Go, get in the shower. I’ll have clothes ready for you and your bag packed. It’ll be alright.”

  “I can’t go by myself,” Juliet said.

  Carrie nodded. “I know. I already booked my ticket.”

  “But you have no clothes.”

  Carrie pointed to the front door of Juliet’s penthouse apartment. There was a crumpled black duffel bag sitting there. “I keep a fully packed bag at the office for instances just like this. Now, go. Take a quick shower. I’ll braid your hair when you come out, okay?”

  “Okay,” Juliet replied softly.

  Hours later, landing at the San Antonio airport, Juliet couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. She had flashes of memories of Carrie braiding her thick hair, pushing her into the Lyft, and shuffling her through security and into their first class seats.

  The next thing she knew, they were rolling through the Hill Country in a cherry red Camaro.

  “Sorry our ride isn’t more understated, but it was all they had at your membership tier,” Carrie explained, switching lanes around a tractor with caution lights.

  “It’s fine,” Juliet replied, not entirely sure what she was replying to. She closed her eyes and breathed, falling fast asleep, her head filled with dreams of school hallways that never ended, the tardy bell clanging nonstop as she struggled to find the proper classroom. In her mind, she was sixteen again and completely terrified.