Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
JULIETTE
The cruise with Griffin was the best week of my life.
We fit so much into those seven days—walks on the beach, feeding each other tacos, swimming in cenotes, learning to surf, and hiking to the ruins in Playa Del Carmen. Every evening, we headed back to the ship blissfully exhausted and fell asleep staring into each other’s eyes, so happy and in love.
When we landed in Vegas, our noses were burnt, our bellies full, and our hearts overflowing.
We exited the plane, grabbed our bags, and headed to Phoenix, not even swinging by my apartment to pick up my things.
I’d told him—insisted, really—that I’d get my things the next time I was in town.
The fact that he had to fly to California in the morning—because half of Yosemite was on fire—worked in my favor.
There was only one thing I wanted from my penthouse, and I could have Fallon mail that.
With Griffin gone for a while, I could replace my belongings, and he’d never know the difference.
We walked into his apartment, and I fought back a laugh. Yeah… a guy definitely lived here. No pictures, bare white walls, not a single personal touch. I’d have to fix that.
He dropped our bags just inside the door and pulled me into his arms. “Welcome home, Jules.”
No one had ever said those words to me before. Not once in my entire life.
“Thank you,” I said in a fierce hush. “I’m so happy to be here.” I pressed a kiss to his lips.
“You’re welcome, and I’m so happy you’re here too. Now,” he said, his expression turning serious. “Are you ready to tell my parents they have a new daughter-in-law?”
I was.
Until my brain hissed, You need to tell him the truth first.
I will. Right after this FaceTime.
“Jules?” he pressed.
“Yes, I’m ready.” I fluffed my roots. “You’ve got a filter, right? I blame you for the situation happening under my eyes.” Because, as it turns out, honeymoons are not designed for sleeping.
“Filters won’t work on you,” he said. “They’re only capable of making people more beautiful, and you’re already the pinnacle.” His brows flicked up. “Filters wish they could be you.”
My chest hummed at his sweetness. He was too good to me—and I had every intention of being even better to him.
His fingers laced through mine.
“Oh,” I said. “Your ring is in my purse.” We’d stowed it there when we went snorkeling one last time early this morning.
I was about to hop up and get it when his phone pinged loudly with a notification. Then again. And again—three more times. His muscles tensed as his eyes narrowed on the screen, his expression growing more concerned by the second.
“Must be some fire.” I rubbed under my eyes to remove some excess mascara.
He didn’t respond.
“Griff?”
His chest heaved. “Uh, it’s… my family… James and Sage were in a car accident.”
I sucked in a gasp.
He stabbed at the screen, put it to his ear, and dropped onto the couch.
I sank down beside him, rubbing a hand over his shoulders as the phone rang.
I might not have met his family yet, but from all the stories he’d told me, they were already starting to feel like mine. My breath stalled as his knee bounced uncontrollably.
“Mom?” His voice cracked on that single syllable.
“Is James…okay?” He drew a slow breath. Then he exhaled and fell apart.
Shoulders shaking, hands trembling, voice quivering.
“Mm-hmm… mm-hmm… what about Sage and the baby?” He made a sound like something had been knocked out of him.
“No. No, no, no. James won’t be able…to handle that. ”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my cheek against his back.
As if suddenly remembering I was there, he turned and pulled me against him.
I held him as he cried—and I cried right along with him.
I didn’t know the extent of the accident, but whatever it was, Griffin was hurting. Which meant I hurt too.
I could hear his mom now. “It’s a miracle that Willow was delivered safely.
She’s so beautiful and healthy.” Is. Present tense.
Willow was the name James and Sage were going to give the baby.
My chest loosened the tiniest bit. “They said she’s doing j-ju…
just… fine.” Lemon sounded like she was barely holding it together.
“I have to go. They’re taking James into surgery right now.
We’ll call you as soon as we know more.”
James was alive. It should’ve been a relief. But Griffin was struggling to breathe.
“Yeah. Okay,” he whimpered. “Love you.”
Griffin set the phone down. “Sage di—” he gasped. “Didn’t make it…and J-James… James m-might… not either.” He buried his face in my chest, sobbing.
My heart felt cracked in two. Sage would’ve been my sister-in-law, and now I’d never meet her. I leaned my cheek against his head, stroking his hair as he cried.
He lifted his head and punched his thigh. “I can’t believe I did that.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m such a douche.”
“What do you mean?” I sniffed. “You didn’t do anything.”
“I did. To Bowen. I’ve been cruel, and I’ve stonewalled him, and now…” He sucked in a breath. “He might be the o-only brother I have left.”
“It’s okay. He’ll forgive you if that’s what you want.” My fingertips traced over his spine. I didn’t know if that was true—maybe he wouldn’t forgive Griffin—but I’d talk to him if it would help.
“I do.” Griffin nodded. “I love him, even if he is a total punk. And I’m going to tell him as soon as I see him again.” He sat up. “We need to go home and be with my family.”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
His phone rang again. When he saw the name—Funcle Ford—he quickly punched the green check button, as if Ford were exactly who you needed in a time like this.
He put it on speaker. “Ford?” he cried.
“Hey, Griff,” his uncle said, voice heavy. “I’m betting you’d like to be here right now, yeah?”
Griffin scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, man, yes. I was about to look for a flight when—”
“I got you one,” Ford said. “It leaves in two hours.”
“Of course, you did. Thank you so much.” A wet, broken laugh escaped him. Uncle Ford is a miracle worker, he mouthed. But then he stiffened—remembering he had a wife now. I could see it on his face. He opened his mouth.
I made a slicing motion across my throat.
“Hold on, Uncle Ford.” He hit mute.
“This isn’t the time to tell them,” I said. “And you should tell your parents first, not your uncle. You go. I’ll find a flight and meet you there tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, looking torn—like leaving me behind would make him a bad husband or something.
“Absolutely. I’m a big girl. I can get myself to Virginia. This will give you time to focus on James and your family, and then when I get there, we can tell them together.”
“Okay. Yeah.” He nodded like he was trying to convince himself. “That’s a good plan. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He unmuted the call. “Hey, sorry, I’m back.”
“Let’s not say anything to your parents,” Ford said. “Your mom has enough to worry about, and if she knows you’re in the air, it’ll stress her out even more. Just let them be happy when you show up, okay?”
“For sure.” Griffin nodded. “Thank you, and I’ll pay you back for the ticket as soon as—”
“Stop,” Ford said. “Not happening. Don’t even try. Just…” He choked on a sob. “Just come home, okay?”
Griffin hung up.
Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of his truck, waving as he pulled out of our garage.
Over the past week, Griffin had told me everything about himself.
From his anger and bitterness over his brother and ex, who’d kissed right in front of him, to the way he felt like a footnote in the Dupree family story.
He’d shown me his awkward teen pictures, which he loathed, but refused to delete because they proved he could do hard things.
And I’d told him next to nothing.
Sure, I’d told him about coming home from school to find my mom dead on the living room floor, a needle still in her arm.
And about foster care. I also told him about the night I left Laney’s, never to return, and how her hurtful words had lit a fire in me to reach my dreams, no matter how big they might seem.
Who I was right now though? I’d buried. Deep.
The woman Griffin thought he knew was true to herself. An underdog who’d risen above her circumstances to become something much better.
It was all a lie.
But I was determined to make it the truth. Which started with coming clean and telling him everything.
Right after we dealt with this tragedy.