8. Juliette
JULIETTE
“ W hat do you mean you’re not coming?”
I throw a quick smile to the barista when she hands me my drink and then place the phone between my shoulder and ear as I make my way to the small table against the windows.
Normally, I don’t come this far off campus, but after thanking Beverly for the art tickets, she basically demanded I stop in here and try their coffee, because it’s the “ best in the world .”
Paxton sighs so heavily, it practically vibrates through the phone. “We’ll have a celebration when you get back,” he tries to placate. “It’s already planned.”
“Yeah.” I scrunch my nose. “Who’s planning it?”
“You know who.”
My mother.
Which means it’s not really a party for me . With Martha Calloway, it’s never just a celebration to celebrate. There’s always an ulterior motive, some type of positioning or posturing for the public.
“We both know that’s as much for me as the VU Founders’ Gala is.”
There’s a rustling of papers over the line, and then, “I’m sorry, Jules. It’s out of my hands.”
He says it monotonously, and if I didn’t know my brother, I’d think he didn’t actually care at all.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
Paxton is like my father in a lot of ways, including his belief that showing emotion in public is beneath him. He’s the oldest child, and as a result, he’s had to shoulder a level of responsibility the rest of us haven’t had to endure.
As the VP of Calloway Enterprises, real estate development is all he seems to care about, and even before taking the position, he’s always shadowed our dad in a way none of the rest of us can understand.
Felicity calls him “Golden Boy.” Fitting nickname, I think.
A sudden thought hits me. “Wait a minute. When you say you’re not coming, do you mean you as in you , or you as in everyone ?”
Another hesitation and then, “Everyone.”
“That’s bullshit!” I snap loudly.
The lady next to me jolts from the volume of my shout, and some of her coffee sloshes onto her hand. I give her an apologetic look and then repeat in a whisper, “Pax, that’s bullshit .”
“Come on, Jules.” Now he sounds annoyed, and that hurts, too. My feelings are valid.
“Things are tense, there are a ton of new projects we’re waiting to have greenlit, and Montgomery’s little soldiers are causing roadblocks at every fucking turn. Plus, you know Frank is about to start his campaign for reelection.”
“Art’s dad is running for mayor again?” I scrunch my nose, thinking about my brother Lance’s best friend. “So, making sure the mayor’s in our family’s pocket is more important than my graduation.”
He sighs like this conversation is tiring him. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s not fair. Everybody went to your graduation and Alex’s.”
Not Lance, though, but only because he dropped out.
“Hardly the same,” he says. “VU is in Rosebrook.”
I blink back the burning behind my eyes. “So, you’ll make it when it doesn’t inconvenience you too much.”
“It’s not like that.”
Pain radiates through my sternum. “Feels like it.”
“Hold on,” he demands, and then he starts speaking again, only this time the sound is muffled, like he’s talking to someone else.
Sighing, I pick at the cardboard protector on my to-go coffee and glance around the shop. My heart pitches forward and my breath stalls when my gaze locks on a familiar stranger standing at the front of the line.
Holy shit.
“Jules.” Paxton’s voice is soft now, like he’s around people he doesn’t want to hear his conversation. “Listen, I’ve?—”
“Why are you whispering?” I interrupt.
“What?” he says a little louder. “I’m not.”
“Don’t gaslight me over your tone of voice, dude.”
He sighs like talking to me is the most frustrating thing on the planet. “I’m not gaslighting.”
“You’re being weird. Is it because of me or because of the wife you hate?”
I shouldn’t poke at him when he’s obviously already on edge, but would I really be a little sister if I didn’t?
“Don’t talk about Tiffany,” he says.
“Why not?” Anger spreads like a wildfire in my chest. “She’s my sister-in-law after all. I should be able to talk about her as much as I want.”
“We’ve got the jet ready to bring you home in two days.” His tone is flat.
“What?” My eyes widen and I pull my phone away from my ear and look at it like he can see how crazy I think he sounds, before bringing it back and hissing, “Now I don’t even get to go to my graduation?”
“You’ll get your diploma in the mail. What do you need the ceremony for?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying that to me.”
“Me neither,” he mumbles.
I frown. “Fine, but you have to tell Felicity.”
He grunts. “I don’t have to tell that little brat anything. She has nothing to do with this family.”
“That brat was a pseudo sister to you growing up, and you can pretend all you want that you don’t know her, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll come home and kick your ass for not letting me experience graduation with her.”
He’s silent, and I can practically picture the way his jaw is clenching. “Fine.”
My eyes narrow. “Who’s making you do this? Is it Mom? Tell her to call me herself.”
Unlikely.
“Of course it’s Mother,” Pax exhales sharply. “And of course it’s not a party for you, Jules. Be realistic. It’s a fundraiser. For Frank.”
I blink. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. Are you happy now?”
“No, actually. I’m the opposite of happy. You’re honestly telling me that I have to miss my own graduation just so I can play dress-up as Mother’s political puppet?”
There’s a pause, followed by a softer version of his voice. “This is how it is, Jules. It’s how it’s always been. Can you please just get on the plane? Come home.”
A hit of guilt laces up my spine like a corset. I hate how he always feels like the world is on his shoulders. “You sound tired, Pax.”
“Please,” he adds, quieter now. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Click.
I stare down at my phone, my mouth half open in disbelief.
Four years of freedom. Of space. Of breathing without the Calloway name coiled around my throat. And just like that, they’ve swooped in and slipped the leash back on. It shouldn’t still sting, not after an entire life of it happening. But it does.
I run a hand down my face, fingers curling at my jaw, and I already know…I’m going.
Not because I want to, but because I never really had a choice.
Someone laughs loudly, and I look up just in time to see my stranger walking out the front door, shaking his head like he’s disappointed by something.
My stomach flips. He’s still here.
If anyone can take my mind off the way I feel right now, it would be him. He’ll probably piss me off enough on his own to smother any other emotions I’m currently struggling with. And maybe that’s exactly what I need.
I’m up and out the door right after he leaves, making sure to keep my distance. Just in case I chicken out.
We walk straight down the street for a few blocks and then finally make a right turn into what looks like a two-story motel but seems to be an apartment building with faded blue doors on the outside.
He disappears into one of them, so I assume he must live here.
I look around, debating what it is that I’m going to do.
This isn’t like me. I don’t follow people, and I definitely don’t make rash decisions without analyzing every possible outcome and how it could affect me.
I should live a little while I’ve still got the chance, like Felicity implied last night. Maybe even get fucked.
The inner voice doesn’t calm me down. In fact, the fire that started brewing while I was on the phone with Paxton rages like an inferno until my palms are clammy and my heart is pounding like a fist against my chest.
I’m leaving here in two days.
Gone.
Sucking in a deep breath, I race across the street before I lose my nerve and stop right in front of his door, my hand poised to knock.
My arms shake.
What the hell are you doing, Jules?
Squeezing my eyes tightly, I rap on the door.
Oh my God, I think I might throw up.
This is stupid. So, so stupid.
I’m about to run away, but before I can, the door swings open, and I come face to face with Trouble.