Chapter Twenty-One Juliette
TWENTY-ONE JULIETTE
Juliette wakes to a flurry of texts from her father about Wimbledon prep.
For a moment, that’s all she has to worry about.
Then, as she sits up, she thinks of Luca Kacic, even though she doesn’t want to.
Luca’s rejection stings, and Juliette knows she’s sulky and licking her wounds, but it’s impossible not to.
Luca has wriggled her way under Juliette’s skin, and the aching cavern in her chest keeps expanding because of it.
Luca is already gone by the time Juliette is packed.
Trying to channel her hurt into annoyance, Juliette says goodbye to the rest of the women and gets into the backseat of Octavia’s rented SUV.
On the road to the airport, Claudia and Octavia happily chatter about what junk food they’re going to indulge in once they’re in London, but Juliette’s stomach twists in unhappy knots.
She presses her forehead against the cool glass and watches her home pass by in a blur of color.
She has always loved being in Naples, she will always say it is her home, but as her stomach flips over and over again, she realizes it’s never actually been her home.
She loves Italy, of course, but her feet are never on the same soil long enough for her to become settled.
Sure, she has her apartment in Monaco, Claudia’s flat in London, and Octavia’s house on the French Riviera, but none of those places have ever satiated the hungry loneliness in her chest. Not even lifting a trophy had done that.
But Luca’s soft and plush mouth on hers, sun-chapped and tasting of pomegranate lip balm, the feel of her calloused palms against her ribs, the silk of her hair crushed in Juliette’s fingers… that had calmed the raging thoughts in her mind.
It is so deeply mortifying that Juliette puts her head in her hands. She really needs to get a grip.
The night is young and bursting by the time they land and cram in the back of a cab to go to Claudia’s expensive Hackney townhouse.
It’s on the opposite side of London from Wimbledon, but there was no talking her out of the charming space with the glossy hardwood floors, natural light, oak built-ins, and quaint garden.
Juliette always feels calm in Claudia’s space.
Despite Claudia’s extroverted and riotous personality, her apartment is clean, tranquil, and full of quirky bits of her that no one else sees.
Juliette almost feels like a teenager again when she walks in, especially as Claudia cranks up some pop song and opens the windows to let in a fresh breeze to air out the stale apartment.
The sky is vivid-bright still, even as the sun sets beneath the building line in a flash of gold and persimmon.
It isn’t long until Livia arrives, a whirlwind as always, with her hair twisted into a messy bun. She’s wearing stylish wide-leg trousers and a silk shirt instead of her usual leggings-and-oversize-tee combo. Juliette raises an eyebrow at her.
“Were you on a date?” Claudia squeals as she yanks Livia into a massive hug.
“No, of course not. I had a meeting with your watch brand.” She smacks Claudia’s shoulder as she lets go. “I did send you notes.” Then she launches herself into Juliette’s arms, slamming into her so hard that they almost teeter off-balance, both of them laughing as they swing around.
They order more food than four people could ever possibly eat. And on plush couches the color of spilled wine, they talk and gossip like they’re normal sisters.
“Hey, why isn’t Leo here?” Livia asks eventually as the gossip peters out.
Octavia shrugs. “This is a Ricci Sisters Night.” She wiggles her fingers. “And until there is a ring here, he isn’t invited.”
“Harsh,” Claudia says with a pout from where she sits, with her head hanging upside down and her feet over the back of the love seat. “He’s been with you for years. He’s practically one of us.”
Storminess enters Octavia’s face, and Juliette winces internally. Octavia hates being argued with. “Well, it’s always been my rule.” Three of their phones ping in unison, and they all groan.
There is only one group they’re all a part of that Livia isn’t.
“Antony,” Claudia says, as if they don’t already know. “He wants to know about practice schedules.”
Octavia rolls her eyes. “I should block him.”
“Don’t,” Livia says, ever the diplomat. “He’s trying his best.”
“He’s irritating,” Octavia mutters darkly, “especially since he isn’t my coach anymore.”
Juliette hovers her thumbs over the keyboard, staring at the message.
It’s a cold reminder that Wimbledon starts next Monday.
Still a week to get ready, but the bubble of girls’ night has been thoroughly popped.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she says. She leaves her phone on the couch, text unanswered.
She can feel Octavia’s eyes on her as she goes upstairs to one of Claudia’s many bathrooms. The hot water loosens her muscles and washes the airport smell and feeling off her skin, but her thoughts refuse to unwind.
By the time she returns downstairs with one of Claudia’s curl creams in hand, Claudia and Livia are nowhere to be found, and it’s suspiciously quiet.
“They went to get ice cream.” She follows Octavia’s voice into the kitchen. An electric kettle starts to bubble, and Octavia leans against the island, her back to her.
“Why didn’t you go?”
Octavia shrugs with one shoulder.
The kitchen light is warm, the cabinets painted a lovely sage green.
Juliette spots one of their mother’s many cookbooks on the shelf.
Of all of them, Claudia has tried the hardest to capture the vibe of their childhood home, although the floors are wood, not terra-cotta, and the layout is all wrong.
The kettle flicks off, and Octavia pours the hot water into a mug that proudly states I MAY BE LEFT-HANDED BUT I’M ALWAYS RIGHT . Juliette chuckles at the sight of it. Octavia is right-handed, but Claudia will be annoyed at her use of her mug, so it feels almost like a joke.
“You want me to?” Octavia asks as she turns around.
At first, Juliette is confused, but then Octavia gestures to the curl cream in her hand, and she nods. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Octavia ushers her into the living room. “I won’t be nearly as efficient as Livia, but I’ll do my best.” She grabs a claw clip off the side table and twists her hair up into it. She hadn’t bothered straightening it again before they left Naples, and the natural curl is stubbornly trying to return.
Juliette sits on the couch, and the cushions dip as Octavia arranges herself behind her. Her fingers thread through her hair, gently detangling without breaking apart her natural curl.
Juliette closes her eyes, focusing on the scent of grapefruit and sunshine now permeating the room as Octavia finger-rolls her curls with cream. And when she remains quiet, Octavia starts to hum, slightly out of tune, like their mother, but Juliette recognizes the lilt of the old lullaby anyway.
“I keep fucking up,” Juliette says once the lullaby tapers off.
Octavia pauses in her finger rolls. “What do you mean?” Her voice is surprisingly gentle.
Juliette breathes in deeply. The weight of the last few days lies heavily on her shoulders. “You know how Luca was already at the villa?”
“Yeah?” Octavia twists a section of already rolled curls over Juliette’s shoulder. She closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the sensation.
“She showed up the night before and we got into a spat. Well, actually, I antagonized her and said awful things.” A rock of guilt lodges in her throat.
“What did you say?” Octavia asks.
“Don’t.” Juliette shakes her head. She can’t say the words again. “I apologized, and Luca said we could try to be friends. Then she gave me a massage to help after we collided.”
Octavia clicks her tongue. “And you didn’t tell us?”
Heat crawls over Juliette’s face. “I didn’t know how to talk about it,” she mumbles.
Octavia sighs. “Okay, so what’s the issue? You two are friends now, no?” Octavia scrunches more cream into her curls, gently squishing them into their spirals.
Juliette’s throat closes. “It’s just… we kissed. Multiple times.” She feels stupid, like she’s thirteen again and admitting that she kissed a girl down by the beach.
This time, though, Octavia doesn’t laugh but instead sighs pensively. “Yes, groundbreaking, Jules. Kissing your soulmate.”
Juliette spins around, and Octavia stares at her with her impossibly green eyes, a brow raised, as if challenging her.
It reminds her so much of their father that she cringes back.
“I don’t want to feel like this, Octavia!
” she says, throwing her hands up. “I can’t feel like this, I have a Grand Slam in front of me.
But I feel like I don’t have a choice. I don’t understand how I can miss her and want her when—” Juliette cuts herself off.
Octavia’s hands land on her shoulders, grounding and steady. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but have you ever considered you might be wrong about Luca? That you might actually like each other, given the chance to get to know one another?”
Juliette inhales sharply, but it isn’t enough to bring relief to the burning sensation in her lungs. “That’s—what—I’m—worried—about!”
It isn’t until Octavia’s hands grab on to her shaking ones that she realizes she can’t breathe, can’t think.
“Jules,” Octavia says, squeezing her hands rhythmically. “Look at me.”
Juliette does, and she’s dizzy. “Fuck,” she whispers, and she tips forward into Octavia’s arms.
Her sister holds her as she sobs, unable to breathe and shaking so much she thinks she might vibrate out of her skin. Octavia strokes her hair and whispers soft words into her temple, rocking Juliette gently as she falls apart.
Her world rocks on its axis. Everything wobbles and threatens to collapse, to break. Juliette loses track of time as the perfectly constructed circles of her life warp and twist into unrecognizable shapes.
She has no idea how long she cries, but eventually, it tapers off. The panic is still there, a snake curling around her lungs, threatening to crush them, but she’s run out of tears. Now she’s left with hiccupping sobs and strangled breath.
Octavia pulls back, rubbing Juliette’s arms vigorously. “One moment,” she says suddenly, getting up and striding out to the kitchen.
Juliette wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold.
When Octavia returns, she has a blister pack in her hand and a fresh glass of water.
She pops out a pill. “Open,” she commands, and Juliette does, like she’s a strung-up puppet.
Octavia puts the pill on her tongue and holds the glass to her mouth.
Juliette drinks and doesn’t question her, swallowing with a bit of difficulty. Octavia keeps the glass pressed to her lips, forcing her to drink the whole thing. She does, grateful because her mouth is parched, and her hands are shaking too badly for her to take it.
When the glass is empty, Octavia fills it again and sets it on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry,” Juliette hiccups, rubbing her face with her hands. She grabs a hunk of napkins and blows her nose.
Octavia waves her hand. “I’ve definitely done that a few times.”
Juliette blinks wetly at her.
Octavia smiles, a little sardonic, and sighs. “Oh, well,” she says as she tucks a still-wet curl behind Juliette’s ear. “We are more alike than I’d care to admit. And I know you’re close with Claudia and Livia, who isn’t? But we’re cut from the same fucked-up fabric.”
“You and Leo?” Juliette asks dumbly.
Octavia leans back and curls her legs beneath her. “Leo has two soulmarks.”
“Two?” Juliette can’t believe she’d never noticed. It’s more common for someone to have no soulmark than to have two. Juliette didn’t even know it was possible.
Octavia nods. “So, for a while, I tried to convince him to find his other soulmate. I thought there was no way I could make him completely happy and that he wouldn’t make me happy.
It hurt Leo to have me repeatedly push him away.
No matter how badly I wanted him, I thought I couldn’t have him.
” She pauses to shake her head, barking out a wry laugh.
“I didn’t know that,” Juliette whispers.
Octavia looks up, her features softening in a way Juliette hasn’t seen in years.
“I didn’t tell anyone. It’s my job to protect you all.
I know Claudia’s sensitive about soulmarks, since she doesn’t have one.
Livia is the baby, I can’t burden her with that.
Mom and Dad aren’t soulmates. You have always been anti-soulmate.
I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. ”
Guilt swells in Juliette’s chest, and her eyes prickle again. “I’m sorry.”
Octavia touches her cheek, sweeping a tear away with her thumb. “Don’t be. I didn’t tell you this to guilt-trip you when you already feel like shit.”
Juliette takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t like the crystalline feeling in her chest, as if her heart is fragile and with too deep a breath she’ll dissolve into feelings and tears again.
“Look, I know you and Luca had a rocky start. You both are dealing with a lot. There is so much pressure in this stupid sport, but I think happiness is worth pursuing.” Octavia smiles, small and tender, as if she’s barely daring to hope.
“And I don’t mean just a one-night stand.
” Her voice is knowing, not quite judgmental, but Juliette drops her gaze to her wrist, where a strap hides Luca’s name.
“And you know you can find love with anyone,” Octavia continues when Juliette remains silent.
“I mean, look at Mom and Dad. Not perfect, but they do love each other. And in their own ways, they love us. Sometimes a choice is a burden, and even though your soulmate is predetermined, you still have to choose love, choose happiness. With your soulmate, or not.”
Juliette stares up at Octavia from under her lashes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, give it a shot with Luca. There is more to life than this silly game we play, and maybe life will be better if you’re happy.” Octavia takes her hands and squeezes. “You may be rivals, but you have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why you’re soulmates.”
Juliette frowns but understands the logic of that.
Still, the ugly feelings in her chest have sharp edges.
Want and desire refuse to leave her alone, a ravaging and physical passion that threatens to scorch her to ash.
The only cure for her loneliness is to give in to those desires and melt into Luca Kacic.
“She doesn’t want me. She won’t have me,” Juliette says finally, deflating as she admits her nagging worry.
Octavia shakes her head, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve seen the way she watches you. She wants you too, she’s just afraid.”
Juliette chews on the inside of her lip. “You think?”
Octavia laughs, fully grinning. “Oh, Jules, I know it.”