Free Romeo's Ex by Lisa Fiedler

Then she understands. “You are advising me to flirt this night!”
    â€œAye, and heavily. Flirt with every lucky beau who falls within your line of vision. Dance with any boy who asks, and if the opportunity presents for you to be kissed, by all means, Juliet Capulet, get thyself kissed.”
    I turn away from the glass and smile at her blush. She quickly attempts to conceal it behind her mask, which is similar to mine except that hers is bordered not with feathers but rows of large pearls.
    â€œKisses are sins,” she states. “You should know that, being as you are a fierce advocate of chastity! Did you not, this very morn, hotly denounce the state of love and all romantic actions associated with it?”
    â€™Tis my turn to blush. “Ah. Well. As to that, I have recently undergone, as they say, a change of heart.”

    â€œA change of heart?”
    â€œOh, Jules, it happened just today. I have met someone!”
    â€œMet someone?” Her mouth becomes a dainty O of wonder. “Tell me!”
    I fall back upon her pillows, feeling suddenly girlish and light. “He is the most gallant, most brave, most handsome man in all of Verona.”
    â€œAm I acquainted with him?”
    â€œâ€™Tis very doubtful,” I admit, biting my lip. She understands at once.
    â€œOh, Roz, another Montague? First Romeo, now … what is this one called?”
    I hesitate. “Mercutio.”
    â€œYou jest!”
    â€œNay.
    â€œMercutio!” Jules shakes her head.
    â€œI am hoping he will come here tonight,” I confide, “so I may tell him of my feelings.”
    â€œA Montague here? Now I have heard it all.” She sighs. “Well, at least you picked him for yourself.” She grins. “Like a fig. Forbidden fruit. Could that be the source of Mercutio’s allure?”
    â€œIt could. But it is not.” I narrow my eyes. “What dost thou mean by saying I have picked him for myself?”
    â€œI mean that you chose him.” Juliet’s eyes turn serious. “I have learned tonight that Count Paris does request
my hand and that my lord and lady would have me accept.”
    I open my mouth and stare at her.
    Juliet grins. “Could it be I have finally found a way to render Rosaline speechless?”
    â€œParis?” I gasp at last. “Wishes to marry thee?”
    â€œAye. As I told my lady mother, that certain sacrament has, until this day, been an honor I have dreamed not of.” She shrugs. “But then what else would I do besides marry?”
    I drop to the bed in a puff of blue brocade, nothing short of stunned.
    â€œBut Paris? I did not even know you knew him!”
    â€œI do not know him, other than by reputation,” she says in her sensible way. “But ’tis not as though the practice is uncommon. Girls are married off to strangers every day. At least I have clapped eyes on Paris.”
    â€œYou have clapped eyes upon the village idiot, as well,” I remind her. “But no one expects you to marry him!”
    â€œParis is not an idiot,” she says evenly.
    I scowl, crossing my arms across the bodice of the gown. “So that is your measure for marrying a man?” I snap. “If he is not classified as a halfwit, then he is husband material?”
    â€œHe is a nobleman. Kin to the prince.”
    â€œThat is his pedigree. What of his personality?”
    â€œI suspect he has one.”
    â€œAye, and it is very much lacking.” I shake my head at her. “A nun’s confession is less boring than Paris!”

    Juliet looks only somewhat discouraged. “He is handsome,” she states. “In fact, Mother spoke at length of his beauteous looks.”
    â€œLikely because that is all there is to speak of. Paris dazzles the eye, aye, until he opens his mouth! Marry him? Oh, Juliet. How could you?”
    Juliet sighs. “How could I not?”
    There, of course, is the meat of