Chapter 15 Juliana
JULIANA
As soon as the call connected, Juliana regretted it.
Her mother was the last person who would give objective advice.
The second she heard about the job opportunity with Harrison Hotels, she’d probably orchestrate a full-blown SWAT team rescue mission to extract Juliana from Redemption Ridge and return her to the path to what she deemed acceptable.
“On track,” in her mother’s dictionary, meant a perfectly polished job and waiting gracefully for her golf-polo-wearing knight in a shining BMW.
But the more time Juliana spent at Redemption Ridge Ranch, with Gideon and his family, the less interested she was in the knight, and the more convinced she was that a cowboy on a mountain bike was more her style.
It didn’t make sense, not on paper. Logically, nothing about her and Gideon matched.
And yet . . . she couldn’t help but love the way he made her feel.
The way he made her laugh. The way he changed how she saw the world.
He was a good man. She’d suspected it back on Tealua, but seeing him here, in his element, had only confirmed it. He loved his family. He loved his community. And if she was reading the signs correctly, he was inching closer and closer to loving her.
The thought sent a thrill through her.
“Juliana Emerson. Are you even listening to me?”
She blinked, startled, and stared down at the phone in her hand like it had materialized out of nowhere. “Hey, Mom. Sorry. I must’ve hit a bad spot. Can you hear me now?”
“Honestly, Juliana, how can you stand being somewhere so backward that there’s no cell service?
Are you ready to come home? I’ve got everything arranged.
I can have a ticket waiting for you in Denver.
Do you need a rental car? Is there even a rental car place?
Don’t tell me you’re planning to hitchhike! ”
“Mom. Mom. No. Just stop.” Juliana took a steadying breath. “I’m not calling to tell you I’m coming home.”
A long silence followed. “Then why? I feel like I’ve been very patient, Juliana, but this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been in that godforsaken place for over a month. Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I need to come there and find out for myself?”
Juliana’s stomach clenched at the thought of her mother in Redemption Ridge.
“No, Mom. I just . . .” She hesitated, then plunged forward, tired of keeping secrets.
“You want to know what’s going on? I’ll tell you.
After Leo left and I went to Tealua by myself, I met someone. And it turns out . . . we got married.”
A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped before she could stop it.
“So I’m here. Getting to know my husband. Oh my word, I sound crazy—but it’s true. I have a husband. And I don’t know what to do, because I really like him. But it seems absurd, doesn’t it?”
Her voice cracked. “And that’s not even mentioning that I have a job opportunity—one I would’ve killed for six months ago—with Harrison Hotels.
I should be jumping up and down and packing my bags, but every time I think about leaving, I want to curl up in a ball.
” She wiped hastily at the tears now slipping down her cheeks.
“And I’m so pathetic I don’t even have friends to talk to about this.
I shouldn’t be asking you, but you’re my mom.
And even though everything you’ve said and done tells me otherwise, I feel like you should be on my side. ”
The floodgates finally closed, and Juliana sat in breathless silence, bracing for impact.
Maybe her honesty would spark some kind of sliver of maternal instinct that had somehow stayed buried for twenty-eight years.
Maybe the shock of hearing her daughter was married and in genuine distress would bridge the years of distance between them.
Instead, that hope shattered with her mother’s response.
A horrified gasp was followed by her mother’s outraged scream.
“You stupid, foolish girl! After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?
I’ve tried to teach you one lesson, and you’re too thick-headed to learn even that.
All I wanted was for you to marry someone who would be good for you.
Someone who would give you the status and lifestyle you deserve.
I never wanted you to make the same mistakes I did.
Your father was worthless. Romance and big promises can’t make up for a penniless man who refuses to work.
I had no choice but to leave him. Marrying Richard was what I had to do to give us a real life. ”
She continued, voice rising. “And now you’re throwing away everything I’ve worked for on some broke cowboy who charmed his way into your skirt on vacation? I can’t believe you would do this to me.”
Juliana closed her eyes against the onslaught. Her tears ran faster as she listened to her mother continue to berate her.
But this time, they weren’t just from shame.
They were from exhaustion. From grief. From the ache of trying so hard for so long to be the version of herself her mother demanded. A version that was polished and predictable. That didn’t mess up, didn’t embarrass anyone, didn’t want anything that wasn’t pre-approved.
But at this dusty mountain ranch with crooked cabinet doors and a man who kissed her like she was something sacred, she’d begun to realize just how hollow that version of herself really was.
Gideon didn’t want her to perform. He didn’t need her to be anything but present. When she snapped, he didn’t shrink back or retaliate. He leaned in. When she unraveled, he didn’t act like she was broken. He just handed her cider and danced with her under the string lights like she belonged there.
And maybe she did.
Maybe for the first time in her life, she belonged somewhere, not because she’d earned it or engineered it, but because grace had made a space.
She thought about the late-night prayers she’d whispered since the wedding—first out of desperation, then slowly, out of hope. She hadn’t trusted the plan. But somewhere along the way, she’d started trusting the Planner.
Because as much as she’d hated the chaos of the broken engagement, the accidental marriage, even the gas station curry disaster and the haphazard way Gideon approached each day—there had been something strangely beautiful about it too.
Gideon wasn’t part of the equation she’d carefully crafted for her future.
He was spontaneous and infuriatingly easygoing.
But he was steady in the ways that mattered.
He saw her. Listened to her. Held space for her.
And when her perfectly drawn lines blurred, he didn’t flinch.
He smiled and told her it was better that way.
She used to think control was the only way to feel safe. Now, she was beginning to understand that surrender might be the only way to feel free. The life she was living wasn’t the one she would’ve chosen. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it was better.
How could her mother possibly understand that?
How could someone who traded love for luxury understand what it felt like to be cherished just as you were?
Juliana sat up straighter, shoulders squaring. Her tears didn’t stop, but they cleared a new path now—not from fear or shame, but from conviction.
Her voice was shaky but fierce. “How dare you make this about you?”
Silence.
“This is my life. And I’ve run myself into the ground trying to be perfect for you. Trying to earn your approval, like if I made no mistakes and embarrassed you in no way, I might finally get your affection. But it’s never been enough. It will never be enough.”
Her chest heaved.
“Yes, I made a mistake. I accidentally married a perfect stranger. But you know what? I wouldn’t go back and change it. Because Gideon is a good man. And I think I love him.”
Her voice broke, but she pressed on.
“You can say what you want about money and status and lifestyle, and how you sacrificed romance on the altar of all those things. But I don’t care how many zeros are in Gideon’s bank account. I care about him.”
She took a breath that felt more like a lifeline before continuing. “I don’t know if I’m going to stay. I don’t know if I’ll take the job with Harrison Hotels. But I do know this—I'm not coming home. And I’m done letting you pressure me into a life I don’t want.”
Juliana ended the call with trembling fingers, ignoring her mother’s sputtering. She set her phone down on the nightstand like it might bite her. The silence that followed felt sacred. Heavy and still, like the air after a thunderstorm.
Her shoulders ached from the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, but beneath the exhaustion was something else.
A strange kind of peace. Not the polished, poised kind she used to chase through color-coded planners and five-year career goals, but a gritty, hard-won kind.
The kind that came from saying what needed to be said, even if her voice had shaken.
She stared at the cabin ceiling for a long moment, the soft twinkle of the string lights Gideon had hung outside casting shadows against the wood-paneled walls. She should’ve felt untethered after a call like that. Lost, maybe even guilty. But she didn’t.
Instead, she felt free.
Free from the voice in her head that always second-guessed, always strategized, always made sure she was two steps ahead of disaster.
Free from the polished future someone else had designed for her.
And more than anything, free from the belief that love had to be earned by being useful or impressive or unbreakable.
She had told her mother she thought she might love Gideon.
And maybe that was supposed to be terrifying. Maybe it should’ve made her want to bury herself under the covers and pretend she’d never said it out loud. But it didn’t. Because saying it had pulled something into focus she’d been too scared to look at directly.
She did love him.
It wasn’t the sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of love her mother had always warned against, or the curated kind that looked good on a holiday card.
It was Gideon. Steady, ridiculous, always-tracking-mud-inside Gideon.
The man who gave her space when she bristled, and then leaned in anyway.
The man who laughed at her spreadsheets and then stayed up late helping her color-code the menu plan without complaint.
The man who had no idea how to iron a shirt but looked at her like she’d just invented the airplane.
He’d given her flannel shirts to borrow, cider that tasted like a sugar crash in a cup, and a ridiculous number of reasons to smile. And somewhere between the ATV rides and awkward family dinners and kissing him beside a pan of soggy stuffing, she’d fallen in love.
His complete acceptance of her was a gift she treasured. It made her realize that he deserved a gift, too. Which was convenient since Christmas was coming up. Something real. Not just “I wandered through a holiday display and panicked.” Something that meant she’d been paying attention.
It wouldn’t be flashy or expensive. She’d done that kind of gift before. It always ended up in a closet or on a shelf in someone’s second home.
No, this had to be something that made sense for him.
A custom leather sheath for his forever-misplaced pocketknife?
A framed photo from Thanksgiving with his family?
Or maybe something totally impractical, like a handmade map of Tealua with a little red X marking the spot where she’d married a man she barely knew and somehow stumbled into the best accident of her life.
She wasn’t sure yet. But she’d figure it out.
Because this wasn’t about impressing him. It wasn’t about crafting some perfect holiday moment. It was about choosing to stay, even if everything inside her still wanted a contingency plan and three backup exit strategies.
She wanted him to know he mattered. That she saw him. That even on the days when she wanted to strangle him with a strand of pre-lit garland, she was glad he was hers.
The only question was if he truly wanted her to be his in return.