Chapter 30
JULES
Isat at my vanity, staring at my reflection, and I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me.
The bags under my eyes were so dark I looked like I hadn’t slept in months.
Weeks of barely eating, barely existing, had taken their toll.
It had been a couple of weeks since I last saw Chris.
Since I realized Nana wasn’t really there.
Apparently, my mind could see into other realities, sure, but I had no control over it.
People might think that sounds like some superhero-level gift, but for me, it had only ever ruined things.
I would give anything to live in this life without slipping into another version of myself mid-conversation, during a movie I was actually trying to enjoy, or worse, in the middle of something important.
How many times in my marriage to George had I heard those same words from him?
“Are you here?” He asked it so gently at first, but after a while, the tone shifted, the patience worn thin.
It was hard to blame him. Who wants to stay married to someone who’s never fully present?
I didn’t even feel present in my own body most of the time.
No wonder we drifted apart. I wasn’t a distant partner; I was a shell, an empty placeholder for someone who didn’t exist here.
I barely registered the knock on the door. My thoughts were too loud, drowning out everything else.
“Mama?” Liam’s voice broke through the fog.
I took a deep breath, plastering on whatever mask I could manage.
“Come on in…”
The door creaked open, and there they were: Liam, Nova, and George.
The kids felt like a breath of fresh air, even if it couldn’t fully lift the weight sitting on my chest. Nova came right to me, climbing onto my lap and taking the brush from my hand.
She gently brushed my hair. Liam stood in front of me, his eyes wide and so damn perceptive it almost hurt to look at him.
And George hung back, leaning against the doorframe.
“What’s up, guys?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound brighter than I felt.
Liam tilted his head.
“We’re ready to go,” he said softly, “but I wanted to check if you’re ok.”
That kid. Always so wise, so tuned in to me in a way I didn’t deserve. And, of course, I hadn’t exactly been subtle these past two weeks. I’d barely left my room. Told work I had a “bad cold” and used the same excuse to avoid the kids and Carol.
I forced a smile. “I’m good, my love. Feeling much better. Don’t worry.”
Liam stepped closer and studied me like searching for the truth I wasn’t giving him.
“You look sad,” he said. Nova stopped brushing my hair and leaned in, studying my face with the same concern. I held my smile like it was my last line of defense.
“I’m not sad,” I lied. “I’ll miss you two, that’s all. Five days away… It’s a lot.”
They both nodded, their little heads moving in sync.
“It is,” Nova said.
“But I know you guys will have so much fun with Dad and Grandma.” I hated the idea of them being away for so long, but having a few days to look as miserable as I felt was oddly relieving. “Make sure to call every day, okay?”
Nova grinned a little, looking back at her brother.
“Every day,” she echoed.
“Promise,” Liam added.
“Good,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss Liam’s forehead.
Nova threw her tiny arms around my neck in one of her classic tight hugs.
“We’ll be right back, Mama,” she promised.
“I know, baby,” I said, hugging her back tightly.
George stood at the door, watching us with that serene expression he always had when we were around the kids.
“Alright, you two,” he finally said.“Go grab your backpacks and wait for me in the car. I need to talk to Mom for a sec.”
The kids ran off, their giggles echoing down the hall. I got up and turned to face George.
“Please, send hourly updates,” I said, trying to keep the mood light.
George smirked, that infuriating but oddly endearing half-smile of his.
“Twice a day.”
“George…” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“If you need more, you can come with us,” he teased.
“Fuck no. Your mother hates me,” I shot back without hesitation.
“She doesn’t hate you,” he said, but even he sounded unconvinced. “Hate’s a strong word.”
I let out a snort. “It’s the perfect word.”
I wasn’t exactly the poster child for the perfect daughter-in-law back then. I was wild—heavy eyeliner, dark lipstick, and half my wardrobe looked like it was stolen from an edgy teenage girl’s closet. And I didn’t hold back when I talked. If something came to mind, I said it.
I thought ten years of being a responsible adult, a decent wife, and a good mom would’ve changed her opinion. It didn’t. I could’ve cured cancer, and she’d still find a way to disapprove.
“She hates that our kids are ‘children of divorce.’ And, according to her, that’s all my fault,” I said.
George’s smirk softened, and he took a step closer.
“They don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “There’s still time to cancel the papers.”
My chest tightened. I looked up at him, hoping he was joking, but I could see it in his eyes.
He was serious. He had been more subtle about his wish to give this another go, but seeing me with Chris had changed things completely.
The flowers came back, and now he was clearly ready to pull it all out there.
“Please, stop,” I whispered.
“Why?” he pressed. “I get it. You needed to see what was out there. You had your fling with the actor. But now it’s time to come home.”
Home. The word hit me harder than it should’ve. I wanted to laugh it off, to make a joke, but I couldn’t. The idea of something easy, something familiar, was so tempting it scared me. George stepped closer, cupping my chin in his hand and tilting my face toward him.
“I love you, Jules,” he said softly, and then he kissed me.
His lips were warm, familiar, and safe. I let myself sink into it, into him, into the nostalgia of what we used to be.
Our foreheads rested together after the kiss, both of us holding onto the moment a little too long.
I was so exhausted, and for a moment, I wanted to stay.
Yet I knew better than to come back to the same cycle.
We were great at being friends and amazing at co-parenting, but as a couple, we were a mess. We always put ourselves last. Work came first, the kids second, and by the time we got to each other, there was nothing left. It spiraled like it always did.
“I’ll always love you, George,” I whispered. “But I can’t go back. We were making each other miserable… hoping for a version of us that doesn’t exist anymore.”
His shoulders sagged, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. It nearly broke me.
“Are you going back to him?” he asked after a long pause, and I knew he meant Chris.
I shook my head. “It’s not about him. It’s about me. I’m better now. We’re better now. You’re holding on because it was really precious.”
George’s hand was warm against my cheek, his fingers tracing the side of my face and sliding down to my clavicle.
“You don’t look better,” he said softly.
“And I’m certainly not better.” Ouch. He wasn’t wrong.
I probably looked like hell with my unbrushed hair, swollen eyes, and mismatched sweats.
A total mess. But he wasn’t talking about that.
He meant my soul. It was crushed. And he could see it. He just didn’t know the details.
“George…” I started, wanting to stop him, but the familiar comfort of his touch tugged at me.
After all the pain and confusion, being near him felt so…
safe. His hand moved down my arm until his fingers intertwined with mine.
Then, with his free hand, he pulled something from his pocket.
My breath hitched when I saw it. Our wedding ring.
Shit.
He kissed my hand before sliding the ring back onto my finger. It felt heavy. I remembered the day I took it off, the flood of guilt and failure crashing over me. I felt it all over again.
George held my hand between his, his eyes locking onto mine.
“Hold on to this for me, will you?” he whispered. “To see how it feels. And when I’m back, if you still want to give it back… I won’t bother you anymore. Okay?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.
My mind wasn’t clear, not after the last few weeks.
I wanted so badly for things to be simple again—to believe this could work, that I could make it work.
No Hollywood chaos, no alternate realities.
Just George. The father of my children. My husband.
His lips curled into a small smile, but there was no victory in it—just quiet hope. He let go of my hand, leaned in, and kissed my forehead. Then he turned and walked out of the room.
I stayed there, frozen, staring at the doorway long after he was gone, trying to process everything. I was still standing there when I noticed movement across the hall.
Carol.
She was leaning casually against the doorframe of the room opposite mine with her arms crossed.
“I gave you two weeks,” she announced as she entered my room. “That’s enough. We are going out tonight. Do you hear me?”
“Oh, Carol, please,” I groaned, flopping back onto my bed and pressing my fingers to my temples for dramatic effect. “I have a migraine. I’m not going anywhere.”
She wasn’t buying it. She never did.
“It’s a Paramore show,” she said flatly. “You’re going.”
Wait. What? My head snapped up.
“Paramore is in town?”
Carol grinned, knowing she’d won.
“Yep. And you’re coming with Victoria and me.” She strolled over to my closet and yanked the doors open like she owned the place.
I wanted to go so bad. I would give anything to hear Hayley Williams live. The idea of tequila shots, screaming lyrics, and losing myself in the music was exactly what I needed. I would not have kids to worry about, no George or Chris.
Fuck it. I hesitated for maybe half a second before nodding.
“Okay… fine.”
Carol spun around, grinning wider. “Perfect. Let’s find you something slutty to wear.”
She grabbed my hands and dragged me into her room.
The second I stepped inside, my eye twitched.
Chaos. Absolute fucking chaos. Clothes everywhere.
Half-packed suitcases. A pile of clean laundry, she had definitely been living out of instead of putting it away.
I locked eyes with Carol, trying so hard not to look around.
Don’t look at the mess. Don’t do it.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“I told you—you need slutty clothes.”
“I have clothes.”
“Not slutty ones. Not anymore, anyway…” she muttered, flipping through her closet before abandoning that and heading straight for the mountain of outfits on her bed.
I sighed. “I’m not looking to hook up with anyone tonight. I just want to have fun.”
“Absolutely! No fucking guys tonight. Zero men. Nada. Niente. Just us girls, booze, and good music.” She dug through the pile like a woman on a mission before finally pulling out a dress, holding it up to me like a seamstress making final alterations. “Perfect!”
She barely even looked at me before diving back in to find her own outfit.
I stood there holding the shortest dress I’d worn in a decade, just watching my little sister.
I let it wash over me how she had the power to make me feel better, even if it was only a small improvement in such a messed-up head. A warmth spread through my chest.
“I love you, you know that?” I said softly.
Carol whirled around like I’d slapped her.
“For the love of God, Juliette. Stop with the sentimental shit right this second. We are in tequila mode.” I laughed, but she spun me around and pushed me out the door.
Before I could protest, she stopped, pressed a quick kiss to my shoulder, and whispered, “I love you too.” Then she smacked my ass.
“Now go get dressed. Let’s pretend it’s 2012, and we won’t wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow. ”
A laugh bubbled up despite everything, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a tiny weight lift off my shoulders.
Yes.
For tonight, I’d be old Jules again.