Chapter 9 #2
A horn blasted on Gabrielle’s end, and Juliette checked her watch. “Are you on your way to work?”
“Yeah.” Another horn. “Jeremiah went to Yuma for some kind of training operation, so I picked up a couple extra shifts at the hospital.”
Juliette’s biological clock gave a little tick. Gabrielle was a natural-born nurturer, an ability that served her well as a neonatal intensive care nurse. Her days were spent with the tiniest of souls—loving them, helping them, saving them.
Gabrielle clicked her tongue. “A little bird told me you’re hanging out with Brockton Gallagher.”
“If the little bird is named Adrienne or Vivianne, they’re wrong.” Juliette expelled a dramatic sigh of frustration. “I’m working for him. Not hanging out with him. I’m doing some interior design for his beach house. That’s all.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, Jules.” The pride in Gabrielle’s voice was genuine. “I’m glad to hear you’re getting back into design.”
Juliette had to admit, it felt good to finally work with colors, shapes, layouts, and textiles.
Her love of design was self-taught, and she’d thrown herself into learning all she could whenever she had a spare moment.
She read books, studied other designers’ styles, practiced creating her own color boards, and was about to enroll in a couple online courses until her mother told her to stop wasting her time.
It took nothing more than Gigi’s thoughtless dismissal of Juliette’s dreams for her to throw it all away.
Even after she ran off with Rodrigo, she stayed far from design. She bounced around between jobs, never really holding anything of interest for longer than a couple months. Nothing sparked her curiosity or ignited her passion like interior design.
“So tell me,” Gabrielle said, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, even though it was just the two of them on the line. “Is Brockton still as handsome as ever?”
“Ugh, yes,” Juliette admitted, and a familiar warmth spread through her. The sensation made her heart flutter. “Perhaps even more so than I remember.”
Male voices flooded down the hall as Brock and Anders came around the corner, and Juliette’s pulse jumped into overdrive at the fear of being caught.
Flustered, an outpouring of words tumbled from her mouth.
“Well, I’ve got to run, we’re pretty swamped with this beach house remodel.
Oh, and Brock wanted me to tell you he said hello, so there’s that. I’ll talk to you later—”
Gabrielle gasped. “Don’t you dare hang up!”
Juliette grinned. “Okay, I love you, bye.”
She hung up before her sister could pester her with more questions about Brock and their current situation. It was bad enough Gabrielle already knew they were working together, but if she learned that Juliette’s office was actually in his house, the interrogation would be relentless.
Brock handed Juliette her purse and coat. “How’s Gabi?”
“Good. Fine.” She sounded so foolish, like she couldn’t even speak properly around him, and a strange expression passed over his face. Like he wasn’t quite sure he believed her. “She’s great, actually. Thanks for asking.”
Juliette pulled her coat on and slung her purse over one shoulder. “I’m sorry, I mean she’s doing really well. She just wanted to make sure I was okay after the whole debacle with my mom.”
“Typical Gabi.” He zipped up his jacket. “You ready to go?”
Then he grinned. And it was the same smile she remembered from so many years ago.
At once, Juliette was filled with a wild rush of déjà vu.
The memory overwhelmed her. Left her breathless.
Brock stood by the door waiting for her, ready to take her hand.
They were young. Full of optimistic hopes and passionate dreams and endless possibilities.
Their love was fresh and reckless. They’d made so many promises to each other—of all the things they were going to see, all the things they were going to do.
“Hey, are you okay?” Brock came closer and gently cupped her elbow, keeping her steady.
Electricity rippled through her. The current of his touch coursed through her, paralyzed her with a rush of crippling emotion.
“Yeah.” She forced a friendly smile. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were clammy. “Totally.”
They said goodbye to Anders, and Brock drove Juliette back to Mystic Florals.
He talked the whole way there, mostly about work for the apartment renovation.
He mentioned the claw-foot tub and how it should arrive within the next few days.
Already he’d sent two of his guys over to the apartment to install the counters and cabinets in the kitchen.
Another step in the project, making it closer to completion.
Juliette was kind of listening, but her mind was a torrent of unbidden memories, and she could still feel the phantom touch of his hand.
“Hey Brock,” she asked suddenly, knowing her swift subject change had absolutely nothing to do with subway tiles. “Do you ever wonder about things that could’ve been? Like how your life would be now if you made different choices?”
Brock pulled into the parking lot of the shop, then turned in his seat to study her. She didn’t look in his direction, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze settle upon her. “Sometimes. But the past is irreplaceable. All we can do is try not to make the same mistake twice.”
She nodded and opened the door, stepping into the cold winter air. Mistakes seemed to be her specialty. This time she did look at him, at the way the stiff breeze ruffled his auburn hair. The way time seemed to age him so perfectly. “If you could change anything, would you?”
Brock shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and his expression became unreadable. His gaze was focused on the horizon, where the beach stretched out to the endless sea, and for a moment, he looked lost.
“I don’t think so. At least not yet.” He faced her then, and his gaze burned with questions she couldn’t answer. “What about you?”
“No,” she said quickly, and regret filled her. She never should’ve asked such a heavy question. “I suppose not.”
“Right.” He cleared his throat. He opened the door to Mystic Florals and the bell above it tinkled, announcing their arrival. “I’m just going to run upstairs to the apartment and see how it’s coming along. I’ll text you later.”
“Sure.” She watched him climb the stairs two at a time, feeling a sense of loss she couldn’t quite place, before he disappeared from view completely.
Left to her own devices, Juliette went in search of Adrienne and Vivianne.
She supposed she could do some more research for the beach house, maybe scour her mother’s stash of wedding magazines for ideas.
But her mind kept wandering to the darkest parts of her past, sifting through the memories she tried to forget.
She’d gone over the details a million times, but none of the pieces ever fit together.
She tried to figure out what she’d done wrong, why Brock had left her.
But mostly she wondered what could’ve been, if only he’d answered her letters.