Chapter 1 #2
“And that’s where J comes in,” Kat says, volume climbing as champagne decreases.
“I needed this moment in a photo–for us, for our future kids, you know, for history. So I stashed Juliette in the little pavilion across the path with the camera.” She has to stop, laughter bursting out of her as she presses a hand to her mouth.
“Except Zen thought she spotted someone lurking and almost wanted to turn back, so I whipped around and gave Juliette the most unhinged death-glare of my entire life. Seriously,” she says, miming the expression, causing Elle and Zen to snort.
“Next thing I know, she launches herself straight into a big ol’ bush full of trash and stickery-things. ”
Every head swivels to Juliette, who I’ve been pretending for the last hour isn’t perched on the stool beside me, close enough that our knees keep brushing.
She lifts a hand, plucks a mangled leaf from her hair, and holds it out as evidence.
The motion makes the sleeve of her sweater slide down, exposing the faint red scratches along her forearm.
Kat and Zen lose it all over again.
“That,” Juliette says, dry as the champagne, “is how much I love you two. I will dive head-first into shrubbery for the perfect shot.”
“And did you get it?” Elle asks, one manicured hand settling over Kat’s on the countertop like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Juliette’s gaze snags on their stacked hands and the easy intimacy of it.
Kat and Elle have been close for years, but tonight, watching them, something sharp and quick flickers across Juliette’s face.
It can’t be jealousy, because Juliette’s mother is alive and well, and anyway, Elle does not moonlight as a pseudo-mom.
She shares moments with my children, but by no means is she a stepmom, or anything close.
I can’t read or understand Juliette’s expression, but it’s gone before I can go deeper.
She twists the dial on her camera, flicks the playback button, and slides it across the marble to Elle with a careful smile. “I got everything. Scroll right. All the way to the end.”
Kat and Zennie crowd in on either side of Elle, a chorus of soft gasps and delighted squeals rising as they swipe through, seeing all the shots for the first time.
I drift around the island until I’m standing just behind them, close enough that Elle’s ponytail brushes my shirt when she tilts her head.
The tiny screen glows, showing a rain-wet pavement mirroring old street lamps and a half moon hanging in the dark sky just like a spotlight.
Centering the photo is Zennie, standing haloed in gold, eyes wide and shining.
Kat is down on one knee, ring box open, face tilted up, radiant as ever.
One of Zennie’s hands hovers in front of her parted lips while the other reaches for Kat like their love has made the world around them fall away.
It’s the kind of photograph that makes you yearn painfully for love.
My vision blurs. I reach past Elle’s shoulder and find Kat’s hand, then Zennie’s, and squeeze until I feel their fingers tighten back.
“Please,” I say, voice rough again. “Let me pay for the wedding.” I can’t look away from the screen. “I need to give you two something half as beautiful as what she just captured,” I say roughly about the moment Juliette captured. I love this fucking photo.
Kat throws her head back and laughs, the sound ethereal. She lets go of my hand only to reel Zennie into a crushing, giddy hug. “Relax, Dad. It’s not gonna be some Sutton-and-Avery-level thing,” she says, referencing my nephew’s high-end wedding along the coast last year.
“That wedding was spectacular,” I counter, grinning. “Have whatever you want. I’m obscenely rich and you’re my favorite daughter. Do the math.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile stays.
Elle and Kat immediately dive into talk of dress shops and veil lengths like they’ve been planning this for years. The wedding won’t have a lengthy wait due to Zennie’s mom’s cancer–they want it a month from now, just to make sure everyone is there.
Zennie slips away with a quiet, glowing smile, heading for my office to FaceTime her parents. Kat promises she’ll join in a minute after letting them celebrate privately first.
The kitchen settles into soft, happy energy. I finally look up from the camera screen.
Juliette is directly across the island from me, elbows on the marble, both hands wrapped loosely around her flute.
She’s staring down into the last inch of champagne like it might tell her the future.
The overhead lights catch on the fine silver ring she always wears on her thumb, the one she twists when she’s thinking too hard. She’s done it since she was a girl.
She hasn’t said much in twenty minutes. And she hasn’t looked at me once, not that I know of at least. I’ve admittedly been pretty engrossed in the photo she took.
I circle the island and slide onto the stool beside her again, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. “You took something special and made it even better,” I say quietly of the engagement and her photo. “Those photos... They're incredible, Juliette.”
She bobs her head, a smile flickering. “Thanks.”
For one dangerous second I let myself picture the two of us here, years from now, champagne between us while we toast something that’s ours. Not Kat’s engagement.
Ours.
Her phone buzzes. She pulls it from somewhere I can’t see, thumbs hovering. I glance at the sleek leather hugging her thighs, then back up to her face. “Wait. Those have pockets?”
She snorts, and rolls her eyes. “They do not. Because apparently women aren’t supposed to need places to put our hands, or our phones.” She lifts her flute, takes a slow sip, and holds my gaze over the rim. “Tragic design flaw, really.”
I shake my head before finishing my champagne. “Overalls,” I suggest with a lilt of laughter tipping my lips. “Tons of pockets. Very stylish.” I mime unclipping a strap and flipping it over my shoulder. “Casual.”
Juliette erupts into graceful laughter, her happiness echoing around the empty kitchen, making my chest flood with adoration.
She sat at this barstool when she was just thirteen years old, begging me to convince her father to let her get her ears pierced.
When I finally agreed that I’d talk to her dad, she laughed because she was so happy to finally be heard.
Even if I couldn’t pull it off and convince her father that she was old enough for some simple diamond studs, she was just pleased to know that I was going to try. Happy to be heard.
“You sound just like you did when you sat in that stool with your teeth covered in braces and your hair in braids,” I hear myself saying, smiling in response to her beautiful laughter.
But my comment causes her expression to change, and she pulls her lips together, blinking up at me.
“Overalls shouldn’t be the only way we get pockets,” she says a moment later, her voice lacking the energy it had just a second ago.
Juliette smiles weakly and turns to her phone.
I give her privacy and avoid the screen, but watch her face as she reads the text message she just received.
Her expression settles into an unknowing frown as she scrolls, reading.
Who is texting her and what are they saying that turns her happiness into a frown?
Who would ever have Juliette in their life and cause her to make that twisted up, sour, displeased expression?
My jaw clenches but I move around the counter, collecting the empty flutes while Kat saunters down the hall into the office.
“Hey, I’m with Kat and Zen, they got engaged tonight,” Juliette says, her back to the room as she wanders into the living area. I peer back at her as Elle comes to my side at the sink, stealing a flute from my hand. She runs it beneath the hot water, and shoots me a knowing look.
“We are going to my favorite place downtown next week to try on dresses,” Elle says quietly, trying her hardest to subtly steal my focus from Juliette.
She hands me the rinsed flute, and I snatch the tea towel from the drawer and get to work drying. “That sounds fun.”
She smiles. “I’ll take lots of photos.”
I nod, feeling guilty that I’m trying very hard to hear Juliette’s hushed conversation instead of focusing on my daughter and her soulmate finding the perfect dresses to wear while they exchange promises of forever.
“To share the news, you know, like a normal person,” Juliette says quietly, and when I peer back at her, I notice that she’s also peering at me. She smiles a bit awkwardly before sliding open the back door and stepping out into the cold night, on the patio.
“She’ll notice if you keep it up,” Elle says, passing me another rinsed flute. I shove a damp hand through my hair, letting out a sigh as I get to work on the next flute.
The sigh is fatigue. Fatigue of the very poor constructed mask that I loosely and half-ass wear around Elle. When Kat and Cade, or anyone else for that matter–are around, no one would know a damn thought in my head.
But Elle. She knows me.
“Who’ll notice what?” I feign, having never actually admitted what she already knows to be true.
“Kat will notice the way you look at her best friend,” Elle replies softly.
“Kat wants some more champagne is what you were saying, right?” My daughter strolls into the kitchen, snatching one of the clean and dry flutes from the counter. “Don’t wash these yet! We’re not done celebrating!”
Zennie rests her palm over my bicep. “My parents can’t wait to meet you.
They’re so excited about the engagement.
And they wanted me to tell you, thank you for serving us champagne and celebrating with us when they couldn’t.
” Zennie’s mom is undergoing treatment, and can’t expose herself to others right now, even though she’s a mere twenty-minute drive away.