Chapter 6
Juliet
Dad and I make BLTs, then sit down on the bar stools at the kitchen counter.
Nothing’s changed in this room since I was a little girl.
White walls, brown cabinets, silver appliances.
The little splashes of Dad remain, too—a mess of scrambled cables dumped below an outlet, a half-eaten banana on the granite countertop, and stacks of unread mail at the side of both.
He still keeps the photos on the fridge, too, each one framed with stained popsicle sticks.
My kindergarten graduation where I’m hoisted on his shoulders and laughing my heart out, the first time I lost a tooth and he dressed up as the tooth fairy, my junior prom where he’s hugging me with tears in his eyes.
I don’t know how I won the lottery for dads. Heaven probably knew I was going to need him after Mom died.
Those were the photos in the center of the fridge—the ones with Mom.
There was one of her and Dad’s wedding ceremony when they were both fresh out of high school, then one of her holding me as a newborn in the hospital ten years later, a pink bow glued to my fuzzy hair.
The last photo we had taken together has always been my favorite, me as a two-year-old with Mom kissing my chubby cheek.
I wish I could remember her. Dad does his best to keep her memory alive with photos and videos, but twenty years is a long time without someone.
He sighs beside me, his cheeks full. “Nothing better than a BLT.” He nudges me. “And the company.”
“The BLTs might have me beat. These tomatoes taste way better than the store-bought ones I’ve been eating.” I wipe at the juice escaping the corner of my mouth.
“That’s because they’re fresh,” Dad says.
“Mrs. Batchelder’s still bringing me a basket of fresh vegetables from her garden every Sunday.
One of these days, when I retire, I’m going to start my own garden.
I’ll grow peas, corn, potatoes, tomatoes, pumpkins.
Maybe even take part in the farmer’s market.
Tom Walker has it right, you know? From police work to ground-work. That’s the way it needs to be.”
Dad has been talking about retiring for years, but I don’t think he ever will.
He enjoys hustling too much. When I was in elementary school, he was working full-time as an officer and applying to be a detective, all while finding the time to be in the PTA and volunteering to be a homeroom parent on his days off.
Anything to provide for me, all while showing his support for me.
“I’d buy a straw hat and a tractor,” he continues. “I’ll be just like the Walkers.”
The Walkers are legit farmers with crops and acres to prove it. But I appreciate Dad’s vision all the same. “I’ll buy you overalls to complete the picture. Oh, and chickens.”
“Chickens, yes. Gotta have chickens if I’m gonna be a farmer.”
I grin at the image. My dad is a looker, or at least so everyone tells me. I’ve heard rumors that he’s called “Daddy Mayor” by some of the more thirsty women in town.
“He’s like Pedro Pascal in his prime...except Mr. Monroe wears normal clothes.”
It kind of grosses me out if I think about it too much—he is my dad, guys—but it does give me a certain level of pride to know I’m related to a man who’s as honorable, service-oriented, and selfless as they come.
Or maybe I’m biased because he’s my favorite person in the world. Even if he’s going to make it impossible for me to ever marry.
Archer pops into my mind like those shifting billboards on the interstate, morphing from the way he’d first stared at me to how he looked at me after seeing Dad.
I wasn’t surprised or disappointed with his retreat. Honestly, it was more grounding than anything. As a teenager, I’d built Archer up on an unattainable pedestal. I was convinced he’d be the only guy man enough to win Dad’s approval—and to be the first and only one to ever fight for his approval.
I’m fine with being wrong. There’s no point pursuing a relationship with the cowboy because nothing can come from it. At least not with Dad disliking Archer the way he does.
“An ex-bull rider, Juliet? The guy hasn’t accomplished an honest day’s work in his life. You deserve better.”
After that conversation in high school, I stopped speaking of my crushes so freely.
“So tell me more about this gap semester,” Dad says, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he finishes off the last of his sandwich. “I didn’t know you could do that a year out from graduation.”
I’m not ready to get into this right now. Dad would never be disappointed in me, just for me. He worked his entire life for me to go to college, to help me have a life beyond Autumn Ridge. I thought that’s what I wanted, too. How can I tell him it isn’t what I want anymore?
“I just felt like I was ready for some time off, you know?” I say. “Before things get crazy busy and I get a better job and everything.”
“So the shoe store is letting you take all this time off, too? Or did you have to quit?”
I chew slower to give myself time to formulate an answer. “I left the shoe store.”
I’m not lying. Just stretching the truth a bit.
“Oh, that’s a shame. I know you enjoyed working there.”
Yeah, about as much as I enjoyed root canals by old Dr. Vance. “It’s alright. I’ll find something better, I’m sure.”
“That’s my girl.” He swivels toward me on his stool. “So you said a semester?”
“Yeah.”
“Any idea if you want to work for that time or if you want to go into full hibernation mode? I support either, by the way. You’ve worked so hard for so long, you deserve a little rest if you want it.”
A knot lodges at the back of my chest. He grins, but I take another bite of my sandwich so I don’t have to fake a smile. “I haven’t figured out exactly what I want to do yet.”
He stands, lifting his plate and offering to take mine as I finish off my sandwich. “That’s okay. You’ve got time to decide.”
Little does he know.
“Meanwhile, we’ll just squeeze in as much time together as possible,” he says.
“About that...” I stand to help him with the dishes, reaching for the dish soap behind the sink.
“I know my coming here is super sudden, so don’t feel obligated to entertain me.
You’ve got the party and the festival and a million other things to do as mayor, so if the only way we spend time together is by you putting me to work, I’m up for it. ”
“What other daughter would give up her time off to help her old man?” He gives me a side hug, then pauses. “Oh, you can pop that dish soap back. Watch this.”
He makes a face to ramp up what’s coming, then opens the dishwasher. It’s filled with a few other dishes ready to be cleaned.
“You use the dishwasher now?”
“I do.”
I tease him with a slow clap. “Dad, I’m astounded.”
“As you should be. It only took twenty-five years.”
We clean up lunch as we catch up on my last semester and his latest work around Autumn Ridge.
Finally, we talk about his party as we wander to the front room adjoined to the kitchen.
The walls are wrapped in a green, floral wallpaper, a small fireplace and a small upright piano perch against the far walls, and a flat screen is mounted nearby.
I take my usual place in the bay window seat, and he lounges back on his black leather recliner nearby.
“It’s gonna be quite the party,” he says. “We’ll all be dressed to the nines and there’ll be speeches and toasts. I’m so glad you’ll be here for it.”
“Me too.” A thought slips in. “Am I supposed to bring a date?”
His eyes narrow only the slightest fraction, but he quickly recovers with a shrug. “It’s not required.” He adjusts his smartwatch on his wrist. “Why? Have anyone in mind?”
He tries so hard, but he’s just terrible at being inconspicuous. “Are you worrying about Archer?”
“Archer who?”
I give him a knowing look, and he sighs. “Can you blame a dad for being curious?”
“No. But I’ll lay your worries to rest. I won’t be taking Archer. Or dating Archer, for that matter.”
As much as my old heart would like me to change my mind, I don’t think it’s worth it. I saw the way Archer pulled back, and even if he did take a small stance before he left, it’s not really what I want for my future.
There was also that weird moment with him and Dad challenging each other. Most people love my dad—but most guys are afraid of him. Archer doesn’t seem to fall in either category.
“I’m glad to see you’ve finally gotten over that crush of yours,” Dad says.
I pull up my legs and wrap my arms around my knees. “Why? Because I used to like him, or because he’s a guy who dared to talk to me for longer than a few minutes?”
“I don’t hate every guy who talks to you. What about the Walkers?”
I’m aware he sidesteps the question, but I let it slide.
“Mr. Walker is your best friend,” I say. “And his four boys can literally do no wrong in your eyes. Anyway, none of them have any romantic interest in me, so there’s literally no threat.”
“So you’re saying that Kade boy has an interest in you?”
“Dad, you’ve got to stop. We spoke on the way home, he didn’t recognize me, then he found out who you are and backed off, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.”
He doesn’t smile like I expect him to.
“What’s wrong?”
He hesitates. “I’m sorry I’m like this. It’s just...hard. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I leave the window seat and sit on the armrest of his chair, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning my head against his. He rests his hands on my arm, and we stay there for a minute—just like we used to when I was a kid.
“That’s why I’m always going to take your opinion into account,” I say. “But...”
“Oh, don’t say but.”
“But...I’m older now. I know I still have a lot of growing to do, but I’ve been away at college for three years. Most of my friends are already married, and I’ve barely dated anyone.”
“What about the last one you mentioned? Blake. He sounded like he was going in the right direction. Good grades, great school, excellent career in mind.”
I scoff and pull away. “Yeah, he’s not a thing anymore.”
“What did he do?”
Dad’s frown grows, so I settle it. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
This was precisely why I never had the two of them meet. Dad may appear to support Blake from afar, but if he saw my ex, he wouldn’t have hesitated to put him in his place.
Still, Dad doesn’t look at peace. “It’s hard, letting you go into the world and knowing I can’t protect you from everything. After your mom died...”
I nod. He did everything in his power to keep me happy and safe.
It’s what he couldn’t do for Mom. He’s still wracked with guilt because of the car crash he survived and she didn’t.
“There was nothing you could’ve done to save her, Dad.
But you’ve kept her memory alive, and that’s enough.
I know she’s looking down on us, wanting us both to be happy. Don’t you feel that, too?”
He nods. “You’re right. I’ve had to let go of a lot of things while you were in Boston. But now you’re back, I’m still gonna protect you while I can, okay? I do promise to ease back and not be so...”
“Ferocious?”
“Ferocious,” he scoffs. “My voters say I’m ‘kindness and generosity itself.’”
I kiss his salt-and-pepper temple. “You are. To everyone but the guys I show remote interest in.”
He eyes me as I straighten. “And do you show remote interest in Archer Kade? You can tell me the truth. I promise I can take it.”
I give him a look of long-suffering. “No. Not after today.”
Dad’s relief was palpable. “In that case, what if you ask Luke to be your date for the party? All the Walkers are coming anyway.”
That was no surprise. Dad and Tom Walker served together with the ARPD for years, and our families have always been close. Tom’s wife, Ann, trimmed my hair often when I was younger, and she always looked out for me when Dad was busy on the force.
“I’m excited to see them all again. But if a date isn’t required, I think I’ll go solo.”
Dad gives me a wary look.
“It’s what people do now, Dad. I’m a modern woman, and modern women are fine going to events alone.” Then I pause. I already know the answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway. “Are you going with a date?”
Dad blinks, then looks away with a scoff. “Me? Please. A date. I hardly think that’s necessary.”
The longer I wait to respond, the deeper his face reddens. What is happening right now? Dad never blushes when I talk about him going on dates or pursuing the idea of marrying again, and I ask him at least two or three times a year.
Has he met someone? Who is it? And why has he not told me about her yet?
I wondered about this happening when I first left for college—that his loneliness would get to him.
Over the years, we had grown comfortable with it being just the two of us.
At BU, I had roommates and boyfriends to keep me company.
Dad only has work associates and neighbors—and Tom, of course.
But they couldn’t have been enough for him, right?
“What are you not telling me, Dad?”
“Nothing,” he says, groaning as he stands from his recliner. “Who would I even take on a date? Anyway, I’m too old for that now. I’m feeling like some ice cream. This might be one of the last warm days we have. Want to join me?”
No, I want to press him for more information, but he walks away to pull his wallet from the bowl on the kitchen counter.
Fine. I’ll let it go. For now. He may not want to talk about it, but I’d be over the moon to hear if he’s finally found someone to love again. Especially because I am destined to be alone forever.
No man—especially not the cowboy—is ever going to pass Dad’s muster.