46. Juliette
JULIETTE
T he VU Founders’ Gala is the event of the year— every year—in Rosebrook Falls.
The who’s who from all over Connecticut and beyond make an appearance, spending ungodly amounts of money for a table and then even more money on the silent auction.
I’d love to think they do it for the charity portion, and I used to be naive enough to think so when I was younger and still believed in everything Calloway, but now I know it’s mainly to show off their wealth and get a nice tax write-off.
A proverbial pat on the back so everyone can go home and sleep at night with no guilt over the wealth disparity that lines the streets of this country.
It’s also one of the only times I can guarantee that my entire family will be all at the same place, at least for a few hours.
I feel a presence at my side and glance over to Felicity sliding into the chair next to me, her gown glittering like a blood-red chandelier. She looks both stunning and annoyed, which is par for the course when it comes to her and events like this.
“Please tell me I’m allowed to openly mock the people here,” she mutters.
“Haven’t you been doing that since we walked in?”
“Well, you know me, I hate to break character.” She leans closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Paxton’s little wife looks like she bought out the entire bridal section of a department store and rolled herself in glitter just for fun.”
I snort, my eyes flicking to where Tiffany sits next to Paxton right across from us. “She can probably hear you.”
“Good,” she says, taking a sip of champagne.
Paxton’s glaring at us, his jaw tight and his fingers tapping an irregular beat against his napkin on the table. His gaze flicks to Felicity, then immediately away.
Alex plops down next to Paxton with a dramatic sigh. “God, these things are the worst. Who do I have to fake charm to get out of here?”
“Let me know when you figure it out,” Felicity replies.
Alex glances across the room, to where Lance is standing with Tyler and Art. “If Lance would actually pretend he likes us, maybe he could help.”
I scoff. “Tough luck. He hasn’t even said hi tonight.”
“Want me to go kick his ass?” Felicity offers.
“Actually, since you’re both here,” I pipe in, pointing to Alex and her. “Are you dating Alex, Felicity?”
She widens her eyes and then kicks my foot under the table.
“What? I deserve to know if you’re sneaking behind my back.”
“We’ve been over this a thousand times. I’m not dating him.”
“Yet,” he interjects.
“Ever,” she snaps back with narrowed eyes.
And then come my parents, my mother looking like the belle of the ball, my father stiff and polished on her arm. They glide effortlessly into their seats, which lets me know dinner is about to be served.
“Isn’t tonight just magical?” my mother croons in a sickly-sweet voice.
“Nothing says magic like tax evasion for a good cause,” Felicity says with a raise of her glass.
Paxton chuckles under his breath, and Felicity’s eyes cut to him before turning back to her champagne.
My mother tenses at her comment, but recovers fast, which is not surprising. She’s always had a gift for pretending not to hear things she doesn’t like.
My father clears his throat, and Paxton straightens before looking at Felicity. “Let’s try to be gracious tonight.”
“Oh, I’m incredibly gracious. Just not delusional.”
I smirk and hide it behind my hand.
Tiffany shoots Felicity a look like she wants to stab her with a fork, but Paxton doesn’t miss a beat.
He lifts his drink. “You know, for someone who wasn’t even invited, you sure have a lot of opinions.”
“I was invited,” she says, sweet as syrup. “By someone who likes having me around. I’m not surprised you have no experience with what that feels like.”
Paxton quirks a brow. “Tell me, Flick, you practice being such a bitch in the mirror, or does it come naturally?”
Flick. I haven’t heard him use that nickname for her in years. He started calling her that back when she was a kid, because she’d always flick everything . Her hair, his forehead.
From the way Felicity startles when he says it, she hasn’t heard it in a while, either.
She grins. “I don’t need to practice making you feel small. That part’s effortless.”
Paxton’s gaze narrows but he doesn’t reply. He just starts tapping his napkin again with that same jittery rhythm, like his bones are trying to crawl out of his skin.
Tiffany leans into him, running her hand down his arm, and he rips his eyes away and turns to his wife.
Dinner is served on silver platters by servers in crisp black vests, and everyone falls into their polite, empty chatter. The kind we’ve rehearsed since we were kids. Compliments. Fundraising buzzwords. Laughter at jokes no one actually thinks are funny.
I chew my steak slowly, thinking of how quiet Roman had looked standing in the back of the ballroom. How haunted. How distant.
Anxiety wrings my stomach tight. Has something changed? Is he just playing the part?
My mother’s voice cuts through the fog. “Juliette, have you spoken to Preston tonight?”
My fork stills against the edge of the plate. “Unfortunately.”
“Maybe you can take a walk with him in the promenade later after the meal,” she replies, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
I stare at her.
And something inside of me breaks. I’m tired of being told where to stand, what to wear, who to smile at. Tired of being a passive part in whatever world she’s carved out for me.
“I’m not going on a walk with Preston,” I say, setting down my fork.
She quirks a brow, fire flashing in her gaze. “And why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
Alex chokes on his drink.
Paxton stops mid-chew.
“Don’t be childish, Juliette.” My mother laughs like this is all a joke. “You’ve known each other forever. It would do you good to be seen together again. People talk.”
“I don’t care if people talk,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not interested in being part of some curated fairy tale for them to gossip about over dessert.”
Across the table, my father clears his throat again. A warning.
But I’m already past the edge. And honestly, fuck him, too. He’s not a good man, and he’s never cared enough about me to actually be an active participant in my life.
“I’m not marrying Preston,” I continue, my voice growing sharper. “I’m not going to help you with your little fundraising events. And I’m not going to keep pretending I want a life I never asked for.”
The silence is instant. All that polite chatter at our table dies at once.
My mother looks at me like I’ve slapped her.
“So what, then, do you plan to do?” she hisses out.
I swallow around the panic climbing in my throat and I fist my hands, pretending they don’t tremble.
“I’m going to write.”
My mother blinks. “Write what?”
I shrug, the urge to curl in on myself under her gaze strong. But then I look over to Paxton, and he gives me a small smile and a nod. My spine straightens.
“Books. Stories. Things that make people feel something real.”
She laughs, like she thinks I’m joking.
“I’ve spent my whole life being loyal to this family,” I continue, my voice rising. “I’ve done everything you asked of me. Smiled when I wanted to scream. Performed like it was second nature. But I’m done twisting myself into whatever shape you need to be proud of me.”
My father doesn’t say a word. My mother opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
Paxton sets his silverware down carefully. “She’s right.”
My mother stiffens. “Pardon?”
He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest in that calm, calculated way that makes him the perfect protégé for my father. “You can control a lot of things, Mother, but I won’t let you control her anymore.”
“Paxton,” Dad cuts in.
“No,” Paxton says. “She’s done performing. I won’t have her life, her light , stolen because you two can’t put your family over your bottom line.”
The silence drops like a stone.
And I stare at him with my heart stalled out. He’s never stood up to them for me. Not once. And now he’s doing it like it costs him nothing, even though I know that’s not the case.
My mother recovers, but just barely. “You’re defending her throwing away her future? Her name?”
“I’m defending her choosing something that actually belongs to her,” he replies.
His voice isn’t loud. But it’s firm. Unshakable.
“And if either of you have a problem with that, then you can deal with me.” His gaze cuts between them. “We all know what it would mean if I decided to stop sitting back and started taking charge.”
My mother’s lips turn white as she presses them together. My father’s cheeks turn red.
But no one argues.
Even Felicity is silent, her mouth open as she stares across the table at Paxton, who’s eating like he didn’t just threaten to push dad off the throne and take the crown.
It hits me then: the guilt.
Knowing I’m about to leave everything, even when he just put himself on the line.
I wonder if they’ll think of me once I’m gone, or if they’ll write me off like I was a bad habit they couldn’t wait to kick.
The thought spears through my body, causing a deep, throbbing ache.
I do my best not to look back at Roman, because the last thing I want to do is draw any more unnecessary attention when we’re about to do something as crazy as skip town. But it’s hard, knowing he’s only a few feet away. I give into the urge.
He’s talking to Merrick and Benjamin, but his eyes drop to mine the second I look at him, like he was waiting for them.
It makes my fingertips tingle and my stomach flip with nerves, and it’s so stupid how both of our families are here playing nice, but the two of us are cursed to be forever apart because fate decided to make us who we are.
Except we’re about to take fate and tell it to fuck off.
I force my stare away, trying to not be suspicious, and as soon as I do, my gaze snags on another person.