Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
JULIETTE
S o the universe hates me. Good to know. Of all the people who could’ve discovered me—my secret—it had to be him ? The one asshole I’ve been hiding from? Great. Fantastic. Just peachy. Everything inside me feels like it’s on fire, and there’s nothing but chaos swirling in my head.
The drive to Dublin was long and dull, but the drive back home is a blur. A messy one. My mind is foggy and on the inside, I’m screaming. I’m barely holding myself together just to get the three of us home.
“Are we still getting burgers?” PJ asks.
We’re almost home now. In my haste to get the hell out of Dublin, I forgot to feed my kid. Mother of the year, right here.
“Yes, baby, of course.”
I can feel Arnie’s eyes on me. When I glance over, he’s staring so intently it’s almost unsettling. There’s a look on his face I’ve never seen before—something dark. But I guess that’s to be expected. He has no idea who Dean is, much less who he is to me or PJ. He probably has a billion questions, but they’ll just have to wait. Not a conversation to have in front of my son.
After another ten minutes of driving, I finally spot a drive-thru burger place and steer off the highway.
“What can I get for you?”
“The man in the machine sounds funny,” PJ quips, commenting on the static.
“I just need a kids’ meal—plain and dry.” I turn to Arnie. “Do you want anything?”
“Sure. A burger. No tomato.”
I give the guy Arnie’s order and pull forward.
“You’re not going to eat?” Arnie asks.
“Not hungry,” I mutter.
How could I eat at a time like this?
Pulling up to the window, I say, “Can you hand me my purse?”
Arnie hands it over, and I fish out my wallet to pay. A few minutes later, the car is filled with the scent of grease and cheese. The brown paper bag rustles as I pass it back to PJ.
“No ketchup in the car, please,” I remind him, even though it’s likely a lost cause.
“But Mom, my fries. They need it.”
“Then save your fries for home.”
PJ’s hazel eyes go wide, the gold flecks in them shining. “The fries are the best part.”
The cold cup I’m holding squeaks as I shove a straw inside. “I know, but I really don’t want to deal with ketchup all over the car again .”
“I’ll clean it up.”
I give him a look. Not true, and I’m not falling for it. “No ketchup. Just eat your burger.”
A groan fills my sedan as I leave the drive-thru and merge back onto the road. Arnie turns to me, disapproval clear in his expression.
“Is it really a big deal, babe? He’s just a kid. Let him have his ketchup.”
“Are you going to clean it up?”
Arnie rolls his eyes. “No.”
“Then he can wait until we get home.”
PJ goes quiet in the backseat. A few seconds later, I hear him dig out his burger and start eating. Guess he decided it wasn’t worth a fight—or maybe hunger just won out. Either way, I’m grateful. Usually, if Arnie takes PJ’s side like that, it triggers a whole tantrum. It’s annoying, like Arnie’s word is law or something.
The car goes silent as they eat. It’s a much-needed reprieve. My head feels like a whirlpool of questions, all circling around the biggest one in the center: What am I going to do now? I have no idea. I never saw this scenario coming. How could I have known Dean would show up in handcuffs one day? And why was he in handcuffs?
My thoughts flick back to what Declan said last night on camera: Tried to start a war. Did Declan send Dean here as punishment? But why have him arrested? Declan still has some reach in Dublin, but arresting his best friend? That’s extreme. What the hell is going on with my own family? At this point, I’ve got more questions than answers, and it’s driving me crazy. I need answers—now. When I get home, I’ll call my mom or one of my sisters. Someone needs to explain this.
“Juliette?” Arnie says, tapping my arm. “You there?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Who was that guy at the airport?”
“Can we not do this in front of PJ?”
“He’s asleep.”
I glance at the rearview. PJ is passed out in his car seat, his half-eaten burger resting on his chest. This kid. I’m jealous of how easily he can just knock out. God, I wish my brain had an ‘off’ switch.
“So, who was he?” Arnie presses.
“He’s PJ’s father,” I admit.
Saying it aloud almost feels good—like releasing a weight from my chest. I sense Arnie’s surprise more than see it. I keep my eyes on the road, for safety from traffic and from the conversation.
“You hooked up with a guy like that?” he asks.
“He wasn’t like that when we were together,” I snap. “He was nice.”
His hair is shaggier now, and he wasn’t usually covered in blood— mostly . Some nights it just couldn’t be helped.
“Yeah, seemed like a real prince charming.”
“You’re being an asshole.”
Arnie sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This whole thing is just… insane.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“No idea.”
“We could get married,” he says.
My jaw drops. “What? Why would we get married?”
He looks hurt by my reaction, but I’m too shocked to care.
“So he can’t try to take PJ from you,” Arnie explains. “We could get married, and you two could move in with me.”
“Uh…” My brain’s scrambling for anything, but I’ve hit my quota for bullshit today. I consider telling him I can’t stand the scent of peppermints for the rest of my life, but that’s too mean. Vivienne’s territory. If making men cry were an Olympic sport, my sister would be a gold medalist. Honesty, then.
“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Oh.” He sinks back into his seat. “I get it. Too soon.”
“Yeah,” I agree, lacking the energy to correct him. “Too soon. Besides, I doubt Dean will want to be a father, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
A tense silence settles over us as I turn down Arnie’s street. His house is only a few blocks from mine, but it still feels suffocating. I know he wants to say more, but I don’t give him the chance. My brakes squeak as I pull to a stop at the curb outside his place.
“Here you are, safe and sound,” I say with forced cheer, which just comes off… manic.
“Thanks,” Arnie murmurs. One hand grips the strap of his duffel bag, the other the door handle. He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Just so you know, I’d be honored to be PJ’s dad. You just have to let me.”
“Goodnight, Arnie.”
He nods. “I’ll call you tomorrow, babe.”
With that, he’s out of the car, slamming the door behind him—loud enough to wake PJ if he were a lighter sleeper. Lucky for me, my kid can sleep through anything.
“I’m so ready to be home,” I whisper to no one but myself.
The ten-minute drive from Arnie’s house to mine feels like an eternity. A pinkish hue dusts the sky as the sun sinks behind the rooftops. I feel numb as I pull into my driveway. Today was a roller coaster I didn’t see coming. I’ve never liked roller coasters.
My phone rings, and I jump. “Jesus.”
I press a hand to my pounding heart. It rings a couple more times before I finally fish it out. Must be Arnie checking if he forgot something, right? But the screen flashes: Jamie Walsh.
A spear of anxiety pierces my chest, sending my heart into overdrive. My hands shake as I slide the bar to answer.
“Hello?”
“Juliette,” Jamie says. “Glad I caught you.”
“Yep. Uh, was there something you needed?”
“I’m really sorry about today. I should’ve told you he was coming in, but I only just found out myself. I had no idea you’d be there.”
“No, no, it’s okay, Jamie. It’s not your fault.”
And that’s the most messed-up part—there’s no one to blame. Just good old-fashioned fate stepping in, which usually means trouble.
“I know I said I’d come see PJ tomorrow, but if you’d rather I didn’t, that’s okay too,” Jamie offers.
I sigh. “I don’t know what to do here, Jamie.”
Over the years, Dean’s grandfather has become important to me—listening to more than a few of my venting sessions.
“I think you do know,” he replies. “You’re just scared. It’s time to tell him.”
“Of course I’m scared. He could reject PJ. Call him a mistake.”
Like he did me.
“He could also choose to love PJ and be there for him,” Jamie says, cutting right to the heart of it. “I think it’s time you gave him a choice. Let me bring him by tomorrow, Juliette. Let him meet the boy and see where it goes.”
He’s right. What other option do I have? Pack up and run away again? I could, but that’s not what’s best for PJ. He can’t grow up believing we bail the second life gets complicated. Maybe if I tell Dean the truth, I can finally let go of some guilt and shame. Maybe he’ll surprise me and want to co-parent.
“Okay,” I breathe out. “Bring him by for lunch tomorrow. Margot too. I’ll tell him the truth.”
I instantly want to swallow those words back down, but the mother in me knows it’s time. My heartbroken inner girl is screaming to run—that no good ever comes from seeing Dean. But my son deserves to know his father, and for too long, I’ve denied him that.