My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(118)

The thought made my skin crawl.

She was sick. She might have loathed me, detested me, and wanted me nowhere near her—but she was still sick.

I zipped out of Zach’s door, advancing toward his Tesla. Surely, he wouldn’t mind.

And even more surely—I did not care.

“Well, to be honest, Romeo, you’re literally in town, so…” Hettie trailed off. She thought I’d stayed with my parents.

“Just get your ass there as soon as possible.”

I hung up and floored it so fast back to my house, I beat Waze by fifteen minutes.





Utter silence and an empty house greeted me when I arrived.

I cursed myself a thousand times over as I darted up the stairs to Shortbread’s room. I opened the door without knocking. Niceties were a luxury I couldn’t afford.

A duvet draped over her succulent curves. It was only when I got closer that I noticed her closed eyes. Blotchy red spots peppered her cheeks.

Her fever must have persisted.

Strewn across her nightstand were tissues, an assortment of liquid medicine, and bottled water.

The gravity of her illness slammed into me. Yet again, I found myself sick to my stomach with self-loathing.

How had I chosen my precious ego over my beautiful wife?

“Sweetheart.” I rushed to her bedside, setting a hand on her forehead. Oven-hot. “When was the last time you had a shower?”

“Leave me alone,” she croaked, her eyes still closed. “You seem to be good at that lately.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I kneeled next to her bed, taking her hand in mine. It felt lifeless between my fingers. I pressed my lips to it. “I’m drawing you a bath.”

“I don’t want you to do anything for me. Hettie will be here soon enough.”

She would rather wait for someone else to help her.

Dallas twisted her face to the other side, so I couldn’t see it. Each time I thought the knife in my heart couldn’t twist deeper, she proved me wrong.

I filed into her en suite, drawing her a bath. While I was at it, I swapped the water for her rose, since I knew how much she liked the ugly, bare thing then made her tea and peanut butter toast.

I settled on her mattress and fed her, bringing the bagel to her lips and uttering coaxes. “Just one more bite, sweetheart. You can do this. I know you can. I’ll buy you all the Peruvian food in the world if you finish this bread.”

She didn’t answer.

Certainly didn’t thank me.

Just swallowed small bites of the toast without tasting it.

I couldn’t blame her. Regardless of how she felt for me, I knew for a fact she would nurse me to health had I been in her position.

I was a coward. A childish fool for punishing her for not loving me.

Once the tub filled up, I stripped her clothes off and guided her inside, dragging a chair over from her vanity. Judging by her soft groans, I gathered I didn’t do a terrible job massaging shampoo into her scalp.

After rinsing, I lathered every inch of her body with a soft sponge and soap. Simply breathing seemed to pain her.

Great job, you bastard. How could you be so selfish?

At some point, the water turned cold.

I carried her to bed, set her on a sprawled towel, and patted her dry, hiking panties up her legs. Then I removed the towel and swung the comforter over her shoulders.

“You forgot the rest of my clothes.” She moaned, too weak to properly scold me.

“I didn’t forget. We’re going to break your fever.”

Hopefully before you break me.

She watched through sluggish eyes as I stripped down to my briefs, lifted the comforter, and slid in next to her. I wrapped my arms around her from behind so she couldn’t see me.

With my nose nuzzled in her hair, I decided in that moment that if she was crazy enough to give me another chance, I would give her everything she wanted, no questions asked, and demand nothing in return.

If it meant I got to keep her, I would endure an entire lifetime of her stringing me along, getting pregnant, fleeing to Chapel Falls, and returning here only when it suited her.

Shortbread quaked in my arms. I squeezed her close to my chest, my throat tightening with all the words she deserved that I never got to tell her.

“Are you shivering, sweetheart?”

Her shoulders shook.

After a long pause, she said, “No, I’m sad, you idiot.”

I didn’t know why it made me chuckle. “Why?”

“Because you deserted me.”

“I didn’t desert you.” I kissed her jaw from behind. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

Close enough to the truth, I supposed.

“You’re my husband. Who else would I want to see?”

Your mother and sister, to whom you declared you cannot stand me.

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” I stroked her hair.

I couldn’t stop kissing her jaw. My body sucked the fever out of hers, our skin plastered together, our flesh melting into one unit.

“I hate you.”

“I know. I hate me, too.”

Leaning forward, I kissed her cheeks, absent of tears.

I noticed she never cried, even when I most expected her to. Yet another thing I’d never asked about. I hoped she’d give me the chance to.