Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Paisley
I was getting tired of the question, but the shower had made me feel more human, so I pasted on a benign smile. “Yup.”
Even though I’d only come home from the hospital yesterday evening, I was going stir-crazy from the attention.
Juliet was staying with us while Liz and Stephanie crashed at her place.
Greyson had been incredibly attentive, and that attentiveness terrified me.
I was used to doing things for myself. When I was sick, I got my own medicine.
I didn’t have someone waiting on me hand and foot.
A girl could get used to that sort of princess treatment. But you won’t because you have Jared. Then again, Jared was missing in action right now and hadn’t brought me soup when I’d had the flu over Thanksgiving.
Juliet slid into the driver’s seat. “Ready?”
I nodded.
Greyson still hesitated, and Juliet leaned into my space to scowl at him.
“Grey, I’ve got her, okay? Now please close the door so I can get on with my kidnapping scheme. The girls are waiting.”
Greyson opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but when I chuckled at Juliet’s choice of words, he relaxed and closed my door.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sunshine-yellow phone.
“Your, uh, phone broke in the accident. Thought you might be needing it.” He held it out to me through the open window.
“You got me a new phone?” I asked, wide-eyed.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t a big deal. There was no salvaging your old one, so I had Brett swing by with a new one earlier. But I got everything transferred over.”
That . . . should not sound so attractive coming out of his mouth. “I . . . thank you.” I took the offered device and stared at the screen. “I don’t remember my password.”
“I turned it off so you can set something new.”
That was a future Paisley’s job. Because his thoughtfulness was about ready to make me cry. “I can’t take it. It’s too much.” I shoved it at him. “I can’t pay you back.”
Greyson tucked the phone back in my hand and gently curled my fingers around it. “Pais, it’s not too much. It’s a gift, okay? Not a transaction.” Bending down to my eye level, he added, “I promised to take care of you. This is me doing that.”
A single tear dripped off my nose, and my hand holding the phone dropped limply into my lap without protest. What did a girl say to that?
Then he pulled out the big guns and held out his pinky to me.
“Pinky swears are sacred,” I whispered, staring.
“I know,” he said with a steadiness that made me want to jump into his arms like a koala seeing a eucalyptus tree. Theoretically.
And I hooked my pinky in his.
“Call me if you need me, okay?” he said, shoving both hands in his pockets, like he was trying to keep them under control after locking pinkies.
So scandalous.
“Go take a bubble bath,” Juliet grumbled. “And move before I run you over on purpose.”
I snorted. This was the Juliet I remembered. “Thanks,” I whispered.
Greyson nodded, stepping out of range of her tires. His gaze never left the car as he watched us back out of the driveway, offering a wave.
“You sure Myles won’t mind us crashing the party?” I asked after several moments of silence.
“He’s still in Charlotte.”
Right. She had told me that. The Chargers were playing game six in the Calder Cup playoffs tonight.
I was forgetting a lot of short-term memory items lately.
But it was good to get out of the house, especially since Liz and Stephanie were returning to Spokane tomorrow.
After having them around the last few days, it felt like when we were back in college and rooming with each other.
I’d roomed with all of them at some point up until Jared and I moved into an apartment for couples.
Having my girls around was a boon to my soul.
But I didn’t miss the haunted look in Stephanie’s eyes and the way Liz kept scanning me, like I would break apart at any minute.
Maybe it was because I couldn’t remember the accident, but I’d scared them.
We thought this might turn into a goodbye.
Which made me extra grateful we’d been able to pivot our plans into girls’ night before they had to leave. There was nothing a steady diet of tea and cake while binging both Princess Diaries movies couldn’t fix.
Three minutes later, we were tromping up the stairs to a secluded loft apartment above the Bean There, Done That Café on the south side of downtown—all two streets of it.
“Why an apartment?” I asked.
Juliet opened the door, my suitcase in hand. “We’re on the road so much it’s simpler maintenance.” She shrugged. “One day we’ll upgrade after . . .” She trailed off and ducked her head, hurrying through the door.
“After?” I prodded, following her inside.
“Forget it.” She waved a hand. “Steph, Liz, we’re here.”
I stared at the open-concept apartment, jaw slack.
It was a study in contrasts and overwhelmingly pink.
Something I expected from Liz, not Juliet.
But it wasn’t gaudy; it was tasteful. Lots of black and white with stainless appliances in a bare minimalist chic.
Not too bare but not too cluttered either.
But the accent colour? Pink everywhere. From the throw pillows and blankets, a stand mixer, living room rug, wall décor, kettle, and toaster.
“Pink?” I asked, blinking rapidly. Maybe that knock to the head had altered my colour perception. That was more likely than Juliet ever willingly decorating in, and I quote, “The most hideous colour known to mankind.” Circa the era 2017.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Liz squealed, setting a beautifully iced cake on the kitchen island. “I can’t believe Myles is chill with it. Ben acquiesced to pink in the bathroom, not the whole house.”
Stephanie scoffed as she chopped several cheese cubes for the charcuterie board she was assembling. “That man would give you anything you wanted, Liz. You’re the one who decided the bathroom was torture enough.”
Liz sighed dreamily, green eyes shining. “True. I married a good one.”
“Jules, since when do you like pink?” I asked, turning in a circle to take it all in.
“About three weeks after she and Myles rushed into their wedding,” Liz offered, winking. “You know what they say, a woman is with a good man when he’s safe enough for her to like girlie things again.”
That made me pause. It wasn’t just the house that felt different. Juliet did, too. She was . . . softer. And not wearing shroud-of-the-dead colours. Had marriage done that? Had she changed in the seven years I was missing? Or was I the one who’d done the changing? And rushed into their wedding?
Nausea churned my stomach just thinking about it. There was a cavern inside my chest, a black hole sucking away the figments and flashes of a life I couldn’t remember.
Juliet wasn’t the only one who changed.
Stephanie was calmer. Less anxious. And getting married. I’d only known the woman to date beyond a second date once. And he’d been a total loser.
Liz was less angry. Still passionate, but it had tempered from anger to genuine passion. And she’d been married for three months.
Looking at these women, they were my soul sisters and strangers all at once. Just how much was I missing?
Juliet eyed Liz’s masterpiece. “I didn’t know I had a cake stand."
“You don’t. I borrowed Mama D’s.”
“Of course you did.” Juliet swiped a bit of frosting.
“Paws off!” Liz swatted at her, missing by a mile.
They slipped into light squabbling. That dynamic I remembered well. Liz, in her floral headscarf and embroidered denim overalls, hadn’t met a button she didn’t like to push. And Juliet was her favourite elevator-door panel.
Stephanie wordlessly handed me a half-sweet iced tea while she sipped her La Croix. Another thing that hadn’t changed. I was clinging to these small memories like a lifeline.
“Can I have a tour?” I asked, sipping the drink quickly condensing in my hand.
Juliet blinked mid-argument, then started. “Of course. Sorry. I forget this is different for you.”
“Are we here a lot?” I asked.
She shrugged. “More at your house. Myles and I haven’t been back in Serenity Springs long, and we’re traveling a lot.”
It was so weird hearing her talk about herself and Myles as a couple. Given her vehement denial of any and all feelings for the man our entire college career. That they actually worked out blew my mind.
“How long have you been married?”
“Eighteen months. Wait, not that door!”
My hand fell away from the knob of the first door on the right. “Oh, sorry.”
Stephanie blinked. “That’s literally your storage room, Jules.”
“Did you finally get a skeleton?” I teased. It’d been a long-standing joke about Juliet’s prickly personality needing a skull like Hamlet or Sherlock Holmes.
“I . . . no. Sorry.” She glanced at me with a pained expression that hurt my heart, and I had no idea why.
“Jules, honey,” Liz cajoled soothingly. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Juliet’s shoulders drooped, like a scolded child. “I just . . . I . . .”
This unsure version of Juliet had me completely unmoored.
She was the take-charge, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer, grinchy-hearted, and a-little-bit-bossy kind of girl.
I loved that about her. Emotional, hesitant Juliet had me wishing for a user’s manual on how to proceed or restart to factory settings.
“Go ahead,” she said softly, waving her hand at the door before wrapping her arms around her middle in a protective stance.
Stephanie eyed Juliet, then the door. Calculating. I could see the thoughts whirling in her head. Stephanie and I were the group’s champion overthinkers. Finally, she twisted the knob and shoved the door open.
Then she gasped.
Liz and I immediately crowded in, poking our heads around her, which wasn’t hard because she was pocket sized.
The room was painted a soft buttery yellow with sweet animal artwork framed on the walls. And in the middle of the room, an assembled baby crib.