Chapter 14 #2
Brock left the beach house and climbed into his truck.
All of Anders’s points were valid, but he had no idea how to explain the past to Juliette without hurting her again.
He could just come right out and say it, maybe just address the long-standing wall of tension that kept them separated from each other even when they were in the same room.
But this kind of deception, this sort of betrayal, wouldn’t make things better between them.
And it certainly didn’t improve his chances if he wanted something more with her in the future.
He wasn’t surprised to find Shoreline Drive almost empty for this time of day.
A heavy bank of gray clouds was rolling in, and with it came a major temperature drop, sending the weather plunging into the thirties as soon as the sun went down.
What was surprising, however, was parking in front of Mystic Florals and discovering all the lights were off.
It was a Saturday, so there were likely weddings on the agenda, but he hadn’t expected the store to be closed.
The sign, with its bouquet of flowers, bounding mermaid, and gold lettering, swayed gently in the breeze, and he pressed his hands up to the display window.
The flower bar Juliette created stood front and center, but the shop was clearly closed for the day.
“She’s not here.”
Brock spun around. “Oh, good afternoon, Gigi. I didn’t see you there.”
The matriarch of the Laurents said nothing. She simply stood there with a black clutch tucked under her arm while she adjusted the overly large sunglasses she wore, despite there being no sun.
Their encounters in the past had always been brief and professional.
Even when he was growing up and Juliette invited him over for dinner, Gigi wasn’t exactly the maternal type.
It wasn’t as though she was cruel, but she wasn’t warm and inviting either.
She wasn’t the sort of mother who welcomed people into her house with open arms. And she was nothing like Yaya.
Instead she gave off an air of decided sophistication, of dignity and pretension. Today was no different.
Brock shifted his weight as a cold breeze collected off the coast and swept through the rows of homes and shops. The temperature was dropping. “Do you know where I can find Juliette?”
Gigi’s lips pursed, and she waved one hand about in the air, like she was fanning herself but not quite. “She is your employee now, is she not?”
“She’s not my employee,” he countered quickly, and a quick beat of frustration heated through him. “She’s my coworker.”
“Same, same.” Gigi sniffed, then pretended to dust a piece of imaginary lint off the shoulder of her peacoat. “I do believe you stole her from me.”
Ah, so this was the game they were going to play.
Brock knew a barb when he heard one, and the shot Gigi took was aimed straight at him.
“We had a deal.” Her voice was prim. Cold.
His muscles bunched with tension, pulled so tightly he was sure he would snap. His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, he ground the words out. “That deal was made thirteen years ago.”
“And what has changed?”
“Nothing.” Everything. “Juliette is a grown woman. She can make her own choices.”
“Perhaps.” Gigi stalked toward him, and the cold air was suddenly perfumed with the scent of old florals and tobacco. “But such choices do not involve the likes of you.”
“You can’t control her,” Brock snapped back, but was careful to keep his voice under control.
Conniving witch or not, he still knew to respect his elders, at least somewhat.
In retrospect, he could have just called Juliette and avoided her mother altogether, but it was too late now.
He was already committed. Interactions with Gigi Laurent were often a game of chess, and she had him in check.
“You tried that once and look what happened.”
“Yes. Mistakes were certainly made. But for now Juliette is back home, where she belongs.” A severe line etched across her forehead, and when she spoke again, it was with conviction. “Your relationship will only end in heartbreak, Brockton.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” The lie tasted acidic on his tongue. That relationship he so readily disregarded was the one thing he wanted more than anything else, especially after Anders told him to fix whatever was broken between them. “We’re just friends.”
“Ah. Friends. Such a peculiar term.” Disbelief and something resembling sarcasm dripped from her words. “Well, it is quite obvious she speaks to you more often than me, so…”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean to—”
“You misunderstand me, Brockton. I do not want your pity.” Gigi’s head angled ever so slightly, and he could sense her studying him behind the protection of her darkly tinted glasses. “I am merely stating a fact.”
“Right.” The word was slow to form.
“Be careful. Be mindful of her heart. And yours.”
“Juliette is thirty-one. She’s not a child. She can make her own decisions and do whatever she wants. Be whatever she wants. Love whoever she wants.” A strange sensation took form in his chest, like a twisting wrench.
“She will leave you, Brockton.” It sounded like a warning. “Make no mistake.”
Gigi removed her sunglasses and focused her piercing gaze on him. It was a clear dismissal.
“Sure. Maybe she will.” But not today. Brock cleared his throat and headed back to his truck. “Have a great evening.”
Again, she said nothing.
He climbed in his truck and sped away from the flower shop, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and what would ultimately become a disaster.
Thirteen years ago he’d made a decision, a choice.
It had been the most difficult one of his life, but he swore to himself at the time it was for the best. Yet now, he wasn’t so sure.
So many times regret slipped into his subconscious, and he wondered why he ever agreed. So many times, he hated himself for walking away without looking back. So many times he wondered what could have been.
More recently, with Juliette’s return, his mind wandered into far more dangerous territory.
The possibility of what if…
But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The past was merely history, and nothing more. It was irreversible. Unchangeable. He’d stepped back once before, and he’d do it again. He wouldn’t stand in Juliette’s way. Whether she wanted to leave or stay, the choice would essentially be hers.
And he would keep his deal with Gigi.
He would keep his secret.
Brock wouldn’t tell Juliette the reason he left for boot camp and never wrote to her, never called her, never came back for her, was because Gigi told him to stay away.
He would never be good enough for her.