Chapter 28
Brock stood outside Mystic Florals and peered into the darkened windows.
The shop had definitely closed early. Juliette’s flower bar stood front and center, but there were no signs of movement.
All the lights were off and the door was locked.
The parking lot was empty, and her car wasn’t there.
It probably should have been his first sign that she wasn’t at the shop, but denial was a fickle thing.
He pressed a hand up to the storefront window and peered inside one more time.
Nothing.
Behind him, the sky was already shifting colors, from stormy gray to the violet of dusk. If he didn’t find her quickly, he’d have to wait until morning.
Brock pulled his phone from his pocket and glared down at the black screen of death. Now there was no way to get ahold of her, or anyone else, for that matter. He seriously needed to get better at charging this damn piece of tech. Otherwise it was entirely useless.
Annoyed with himself, he shoved his phone back into his coat pocket and climbed into his truck.
He cranked the heat to full blast and let his head fall back against the cushioned leather seat.
Time was slipping from his grasp and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
His fingers strummed along the steering wheel in a restless pattern. His mind raced.
There were only a handful of other places Juliette would go.
She wasn’t at the beach house. He knew because he’d just left there and would have passed her on the road if she’d decided to head back.
She wasn’t in the apartment above Mystic Florals either.
He’d driven past Latte & Bean, as well as Lovely Mud, both with no luck.
There was no way she would go to his house, not after their most recent disagreement.
He supposed she could have gone to Anne-Sophie’s new place, but he had no idea where she lived.
Somewhere in Virginia Beach, which really didn’t narrow things down.
He pounded his fist against the steering wheel.
Damn it.
Where else?
Unless she’d left for California already…
which she wouldn’t, he reassured himself.
At least, not yet. Even that notion was a bit of a stretch.
She’d have to pack and book airfare. He supposed she could drive, but it was unlikely.
Even if she did want to leave, there was no way she could get all of her affairs in order to be gone by now.
It was impossible. Which meant there was only one possible place left where he could find her.
He didn’t think she would go willingly, but it seemed to be the only plausible option. Especially if Juliette intended to confront her mother.
Brock put his truck in gear and drove to Georgina Laurent’s house.
It was strange how easily the memories came back to him.
He’d driven over to Gigi’s house nearly every morning to pick up Juliette for school, and even though he hadn’t been there in years, he took the turns like muscle memory while his mind sifted through the years.
They spent hours together on her porch, rocking in the swing, gazing up at the stars.
He’d sneak over in the middle of the night, and they’d sit on her shingled roof and kiss and talk, and then kiss some more.
But his favorite memories were when they would park just a ways down the street, under an old oak tree where no streetlamp light could reach, and steam up the windows of his Chevy.
He pulled up to Gigi’s house and shook the images of teenage Juliette from his mind. He needed to focus on the adult version, on the woman he’d hurt. On the woman he loved.
Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but it was too late.
He was already committed. The least he could do was stop in and see if Gigi knew anything.
Maybe she knew where to find Juliette, if she was even willing to help him at all.
He jumped out of his truck into the cold and took the porch steps two at a time.
“She’s not here.” The honed, feminine voice floated over to him from the other side of the growing darkness.
Brock whipped around to find Gigi sitting on the porch swing, a flannel blanket draped across her lap and a cigarette perched between her fingers.
“Right.” He knew she wasn’t here. Her car not being parked out front was a dead giveaway, but he had to try. “Okay. Well, thanks, Gigi.”
He turned to leave when she called out to him. “Brockton?”
He stilled. He didn’t want to have a conversation with her.
Not really. Not when he knew she’d made a complete fool of him all those years ago.
He faced her, keeping his expression calm and cool.
The fading sunlight cast long shadows across her face, and her steel-blue eyes glinted in the afterglow of dusk.
“Might I have a word with you?”
This was it, he thought. This was the moment he would tell her off for ruining his chances with Juliette. This was when he would scold her for using his love for Juliette against him. He straightened, pulled his shoulders back, and lifted his chin.
Gigi took a deep inhale of her cigarette, and a stream of smoke swirled up in front of her. “I owe you an apology.”
Damn it. He couldn’t be unjustly rude and stand his ground if she was offering to make amends first. Brock knew better than to say anything, so instead he stood there, silent. Besides, Georgina Laurent rarely apologized, so when she did, it was one for the books.
“I should never have asked you to remove yourself from Juliette’s life. It was selfish of me and unfair to you.” An inhale of her cigarette. This one was slow and steady. “I realize this now, even though—”
“It’s okay, Gigi. We…”
His words died on his tongue when she silenced him with a cutting look.
If there was one thing the matriarch of the Laurents could not tolerate, it was being interrupted.
Ducking his chin to his chest like a scolded youth, he tucked his hands behind his back.
And though it could’ve been the long shadows playing tricks on his eyes, he could’ve sworn she smirked.
“I know I said you weren’t good enough for Juliette, and that you would end up like your father.” She looked past him to the street beyond. “For that, I am truly sorry.”
Brock waited a beat, and then two, to ensure she was done speaking. “I appreciate your apology, Gigi.”
She nodded, then took another puff of her cigarette.
The smoke swirled up like a ribbon of white.
“Marcel had left me, you see, both physically and emotionally. Gabrielle had left me. She’d gone off and married Jeremiah so quickly, I barely had time to catch my breath.
Then he whisked her away to Hawaii and now to California.
And after all of that, well, I couldn’t bear it if Juliette left too. ”
And she’d left anyway. Rodrigo scooped her up before Brock had a chance to come back home.
He imagined he understood far better than Gigi thought possible.
All his life, the people he loved had left him.
He knew that fear well, related to it more than most. It caused a person to shut themselves off to others, to be wary of giving trust, to surround themselves with an impenetrable wall.
One built with hardened stone, strong enough to keep everyone out, especially the ones who cared, just in case they decided to leave too.
It seemed Gigi had done the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons.
But now, two people he loved, Juliette and his father, were back in his life. And he would do everything possible to keep them from leaving.
He blew out a low breath, and the cold air burned his lungs. “I know what you mean.”
“Of course you do.” Her eyes were gentle, their usual sternness subdued in favor of empathy. That was the Gigi he knew. The woman who never missed a beat and noticed everything.
“I have five daughters, and though I would not trade them for the world, I was never given a son.” She flicked the ash of her cigarette and canted her head, appraising him.
“But if I had, I hope he would be like you. My apology will never be enough, but you must know I find you worthy of my daughter. You’re generous, good-hearted, and you have exceptional skills in construction and craftsmanship. Your father should be proud.”
Brock smiled, small and hesitant, while his heart lightened. Georgina Laurent approved of him. She thought he was good enough for Juliette.
“Can you promise me something, Brockton?” She put out her cigarette with the toe of her black boot.
“Yes.” He nodded once. “Of course.”
She stared up at him, unblinking. “Will you take good care of her?”
“Always,” Brock answered automatically, then took a small step forward. “Thank you, Gigi. Thank you for trusting me with Juliette. I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
“I know.” Gigi blinked once and then she smiled. A real, raw smile. It was rare and spectacular, illuminating the entirety of her face. Now he knew where Juliette inherited her beauty.
Her smile belonged to her mother.