Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology (Starcrossed #4)(7)

I chuckle as I head into the bookstore. Years ago, if someone had told me that Ethan Holt would make me smile until my face ached, I'd have dismissed them as nuts. But now? He's everything I could have ever wanted in a man. My best friend. My rock. My ridiculously hot sex god.

A bell rings above the door as I step inside. It's not one of those giant book/gift/toy superstores. It's small and cramped with shelves, but it's impeccably clean and organized.

There's a woman behind the counter who looks like Betty Grable. Her hair's carefully curled. Bright red lips. She's wearing blue cat-eye glasses and reading a book that's sitting on the counter. As I approach, she glances up. "Hi. May I help you?"

I smile. "I hope so. I saw a book a while ago in a magazine. It was Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but it had a really cool cover. Dark with a heart in the middle."

She smiles and nods. "Oh, yeah. I know the one. The company who published it put out all of Willy's most popular works. Great cover art."

She comes out from behind the counter and gestures for me to follow. "I only have a couple left." We're almost at the back of the store when she stops to scan the shelves. "Ah, yeah. Here they are." She pulls out a stack of books and hands them to me.

"Oh, wow. These are amazing." The top book is Hamlet, and the cover is a man's face reflected in a shattering mirror.

"The publisher did a great job," the lady says. "Edgy stuff. Sold real well."

She goes quiet as I inspect the stack. The others are Much Ado About Nothing and Macbeth, but at the bottom of the pile is exactly what I'm after. Romeo & Juliet is scrawled in elegant handwriting at the top of the cover, and in the center is an incredible image of a shattering glass heart. It doesn't escape me how perfectly that image sums up Ethan and me. We've both spent time living like we were a collection of broken pieces. These days, we still may rattle when you shake us, but it's safe to say we're more whole together than we ever were apart.

I run my finger over the beautifully imperfect heart and smile. "I'll take it."

"Want that gift-wrapped, sweetie?"

"Yes, please."

I leave feeling smug about how perfect my gift is. I don't mean to be competitive, but there's no way Ethan will find a better present than this. He's going to love it.

By the time I make it to the restaurant, it's packed. I pull off my coat and gloves as the hostess comes over. "Hi. I'm meeting my fiancéee." Yeah, never really getting used to saying that word in relation to Ethan. "He's tall. Dark hair. Probably said something inappropriate to you."

She smiles. "Oh, yeah. I know the one. We're slammed right now, so I told him to wait at the bar, and I'd call him as soon as I had a table ready."

"Thanks."

She directs me down the back, and I smile when I catch Ethan's tall frame leaning on the bar.

As I approach, I see he's talking to a woman. Not unusual. When I'm not around, he gets hit on more than a crash test dummy. It comes with the territory of looking like he does. What is unusual is that I kind of recognize the woman. I wrack my brain to figure out who she is. I'm terrible with names, and if I've met her before, I really don't remember.

I'm a few yards away when she steps closer to Ethan and puts her hand on his chest. It's an intimate move. Not something an acquaintance would do, or even a friend.

Who the hell is this chick?

I stand just behind Ethan's shoulder and clear my throat. "Hey."

They both turn to me, and the woman makes no attempt to hide the head-to-toe assessment she gives me.

"Hey, there you are." Ethan pulls me into his side, and I can feel the tension emanating from him. "Cassie, this is ... uh ... Vanessa."

Vanessa? As in the-skank-who-broke-teenage-Ethan's-heart-by-sleeping-with-his-best-friend? I try not to let my shock show, even though I have a crapload of bitterness with her name on it. She was patient zero for the trust issues that kept the two of us apart for so long.

I've seen her picture, but the woman in front of me is far more glamorous than her teenage self. She's dripping in designer clothing, and her hair and makeup are so perfect, she could go right out and shoot a Dior ad campaign. Meanwhile, I've been walking around in the snow for a few hours and no doubt look like I live out of a dumpster.

I force myself to smile. "Hi, Vanessa. Nice to meet you."

"Vanessa," Ethan says. "This is Cassie Taylor." For once, he doesn't qualify my name with 'my fiancéee' or even 'my girlfriend'.

Dammit, Ethan, if there was ever a time for you to pull your macho possessive bullshit, this is it. Claim me in front of her, for God's sake.

But he doesn't, and so Vanessa gives me one of those sympathetic smiles some women get when they think their ex has traded down.

Screw her. I resist the urge to grab her perfectly coiffed head and slam it into the bar.

"Cassie, hi. So great to meet the woman who finally tamed this beast." She squeezes Ethan's bicep, and I grind my teeth so hard I think I crack the enamel. "He was just telling me you two are engaged. That's ... sweet."

She says it as if she's describing a colonic.

I clench my hand in the middle of Ethan's back and grip his sweater, because right now I'm having a moment of total clarity in which I know the precise point I'd need to punch her in the throat to drop her like the sack of shit she is.