Chapter 21
Juliette
Gordon looked at me with what I could only describe as a pout. Maybe he thought it was charming or endearing, but staring back at me was the face of a forty-nine-year-old man who looked like he was about to have a tantrum.
“You can’t just leave me alone, Juliette,” he said, that warning tone I was so used to in his voice. “What if I need you to get me something? Just because I can walk a little better now doesn’t mean you can just go wherever you want.”
His words made me flinch a little. Not out of fear, but because they just felt so much slimier than usual. Maybe without him being able to stand and loom over me as he barked out orders revealed what I had always known: that he was weak, desperate, pathetic.
It wasn’t just that, though. It was Bridger.
It was everything he just said to me. Those words kept ringing in my ears.
I was trying to brace myself and make sense of it all, but all I could do was hear and feel and ache with what he had just said to me.
First love, only love. The words he quietly said into my ear the first time we made love, every last one of his movements slow and careful and patient. He remembered.
“I’ve asked Josh to come over,” I offered, forcing myself to keep my voice soft and light. “He should be here any minute. He’s gonna help you out.”
“Juliette…”
“Gordon…”
“What kind of wife are you?”
“Josh will be here any second.”
His eyes narrowed. “Were you planning this?”
“You love Josh, don’t you?”
The doorbell ringing in the background pulled me away from his glare, my hands clasping together as I moved towards the door. “That should be Josh. I’m gonna go let him in. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I’m not happy about this, Juliette!” Gordon screamed.
The little walk to the door let me think back on last night’s disaster. There had been a lot of disasters lately. A lot of chaos—but Bridger Underwood and chaos went hand in hand.
It was him tearing at that letter that stayed in my mind.
The way he ripped it to shreds like he hated it more than I did.
Such cruel, uncaring words that looked a hell of a lot like that messy unruly writing he used to have.
All jagged lines and scribbly letters that you had to squint and tilt your head at to decipher.
Those words looked like every one he had written to me.
Every note, every letter slipped into my pocket to read when I got home. A perfect match.
Maybe too perfect.
Maybe too alike, too formulated, too calculating, too cold, too weaponized, too many right words strung together to break an eighteen-year-old girl’s heart.
There was one person I could think of who would do such a thing. One person and one person only. My father. I needed confirmation, though. I needed him to admit it before I could make my next move even though I didn’t know what that would be.
“Hey,” I said as I swung the door open to greet Josh. “Thank you again for doing this. I think Gordon really needs some male bonding time. He might be getting sick of seeing me.”
Josh chuckled, one hand pushing back his dark locks. “Where are you heading off to?”
“I just need to pop into town and get some groceries,” I lied. Note to self: pick up food on the way home.
“Why don’t you just get them delivered? You don’t even need to leave the house that way.”
My fingers tightened on the door. “I thought some fresh air would do me good.”
“Tasmin’s been missing you. Maybe you should join her for Pilates next week?”
“Oh, I’ll have to see if I can squeeze a session in,” I said, pulling the door open further. “Gordon’s in the living room. I’m sure he’ll be super happy to see you. You boys have fun.”
It was a rush from the front door and down the stairs and to the car as I drove into the city, away from the gated community that had been my cage for so long.
My father’s office was smack bang in the middle of Chicago, and the late afternoon traffic meant it took a little longer than usual to get there.
All morning Gordon had been pestering me with task after task, and it took until close to five for me to finally get some time to myself.
I parked the car, eyes looking up at the too tall skyscrapers as I got out, my ears letting the sound of rushed voices greet me. People were zipping by, colliding into one another, laughing, talking. I felt like an alien in a sea of humans as I watched them all.
I pushed open the big glass doors of my father’s office building, approaching the front desk. My father still had the same receptionist. Georgia. She offered me a big smile and wave, moving around the front of the desk, her black curls bouncing as she approached me.
“Juliette!” she cried out, pulling me into a hug. “It’s been months! It’s so nice to see you.”
“It’s good to see you again,” I said, giving her back a pat. “I know it’s been a while.”
“I’m guessing you’re here to see your dad. I didn’t know you were coming in today.” She stepped back around the desk, reaching out for the phone atop it. “I’ll just let him—”
“It’s a surprise!” I cut her off. “If that’s okay.”
“Uh…” She chuckled awkwardly. “Mr. Ashford doesn’t really like surprises.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble.” I gave her my biggest, sweetest smile. “You don’t have to warn him.”
“Uh… Okay. If you insist.”
I gave her a wave, heels clicking on the shiny white floor as I moved into the elevator. Georgia was sweet. Too sweet to be working for a man like my father.
His office was on the last floor, all the way at the top, and the long elevator ride to his level had me tapping my heel against the floor until I heard that ding, and then the doors slid open.
The first thing I saw was my father’s smiling assistant who sat behind a sleek white desk.
I had met his old assistant way back when, but I was a stranger to his new one and that was going to be a disadvantage.
I didn’t want to sit around and wait. Mostly, I wanted to surprise my father with the questions I had on my mind.
“Good afternoon,” his assistant said, her blonde hair long and straight and her smile big. “Are you here to see Mr. Ashford? He doesn’t have any afternoon appointments scheduled. You’ll have to—”
“This will only take a minute!” I called out, quickly dodging her desk and rounding the corner to his office.
“Wait!” she called out. “You can’t just walk in!”
But I didn’t have it in me to stop. Instead I marched right up to his office door, pushing it open without so much as a knock. I was greeted with a look I usually saw on my father’s face: frustration and annoyance, his brows all pulled together as he stared at his computer.
“Chrissy, I thought I told you…” And then he looked up. “Juliette?”
I forced a smile. “Hi, Dad.”
“Juliette. This is a… surprise,” he said, clearing his throat.
“You don’t sound happy to see me.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Thought I’d just drop in.” I gave him a little casual shrug. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”
“You can’t be in there!” the woman—Chrissy—called out, finally catching up with me. “Sir, I’m sorry, this is—”
“My daughter.” My father cut her off.
“Your daughter?” Chrissy blinked at me with big eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not your fault,” I said, my eyes flickering over to my father’s. “I thought a surprise would be okay. You can’t be too busy for me, right?”
His tongue clicked. He didn’t want to look bad in front of someone else. Didn’t want to look like the cold, cruel father he was—unless my mom or Gordon were around, then he had free reign to act how he wanted.
“It’s fine, Chrissy,” he said, voice tight. “Head back to your desk. Send that letter to Mr. Brayden, please. It’s urgent.”
“Of course, Mr. Ashford.” Chrissy nodded before sending me a shy smile. “My apologies again.”
“You should have called and said you were coming over,” he said after Chrissy had scurried off. “You know how busy I am. You can’t just pop in here out of nowhere.”
I shut the door and turned to face him. “This should just be a quick conversation, anyway. I’ve been thinking a lot about… About the past lately. And I needed to ask you something. Something important.”
He blinked at me, waving a lazy hand my way. Slowly, uncaring, bored. “What is it?”
“Do you remember Bridger Underwood?” I blurted out before I could help myself.
Brows raising, he sat up a little straighter. “Who?”
“My boyfriend. Ex… Ex-boyfriend,” I corrected as I sat down in the lush leather seat in front of his desk. “From when I was in high school, remember? He—”
“Yes, I remember,” he snapped. “A little hard to forget a troublemaker like that.”
“You weren’t ever his biggest fan.”
“Why would I be? Have you forgotten who he was? Where he was from? Him and his family had that little shack in the South Side.” He turned a little in his chair, letting out a scoff. “Horrible people.”
“His parents were always really sweet to me,” I said, not able to hide the fondness in my voice.
“You should be thankful you’re far, far away from that family and from that… boy. Especially after what he did to you.”
“He said he never did it. I mean, back then.” I quickly corrected myself. “That night I was at his place… When the cops showed up and arrested him right in front of me. He told me he didn’t do it. He was quite… adamant about that as well.”
“He was a liar, Juliette,” he said, giving his hand another flick. “What did you expect from someone like him? From a boy from that part of the city? No money, no class, no respect for the law. I never understood what you saw in him.”
“He was pretty special to me…” I said. “Really special.”
“Look, I was in the middle of something, Juliette. I’m working. You can’t just barge in here like this to talk about your criminal ex-boyfriend.”
But I wasn’t budging. Not yet, not until I got the answers I wanted. “It’s just… Sometimes I wonder what happened to him.”
Exhaling sharply, he eyed me closely. “Why would you wonder about that? About him?”
“He used to mean a lot to me.”