Chapter 20
JULIETTE
Have you ever tried to will a bell to jingle? I have and it’s not easy. I’ve never wanted the bell over the door at Leaf & Letter to ring more than I do at this moment.
It doesn’t ding, but I keep glancing at it anyway, like if I watch it hard enough I can somehow control when it rings.
Theo is buzzing around the front of the store with the jittery joy only a kid waiting to see his dad can have, while I pace the narrow aisle between the ferns and the succulents like a woman waiting to be called into a courtroom.
In the back, Vivian and Charlie sit at the little café table, pretending to look at a catalog and not at me.
“So,” Vivian says loudly, “I guess he’s invited to Theo’s birthday?”
“Wow.” Charlie peers over his glasses. “Good thing we’re both going to be there to witness that.”
“If we weren’t”—Vivian nods solemnly—“I’d want a livestream.”
Charlie lifts his hand for a high-five. “Right?”
They slap palms like a pair of evil villains about to plan how to take down the world. It’s enough having to see David today.
“Oh, look what time it is,” I pretend to check my watch. “Vivian, don’t you have your own store to run?”
She waves me off. “That’s why someone wise invented ‘Back in five minutes’ signs. They don’t need to know I left half an hour ago.”
I hurl a napkin at her. “I really need you to just support me quietly in this right now. I appreciate that you’re trying to make this funny, but it is not funny. At all.”
They both sober immediately.
“You’re right,” Vivian says gently, exchanging a look of solidarity with Charlie. “We’re sorry.”
I know they are. This isn’t pity or awkward damage control. These are my people. The ones who show up with coffee, casseroles, and enough honesty to keep me from lying to myself for too long.
They’re here to be my backbone when mine feels like it’s held together with paper clips and optimism. To nudge me out of the mental spiral where I start revising the past like it’s a draft I can still edit. They can’t turn back time. They can’t undo choices or magically smooth out the fallout.
However, they can help me face forward. Help me build something new. Something sturdier. A future that isn’t defined by what went wrong, but by what comes next.
Right on cue, the bell at the front of the shop jingles.
Theo’s voice bursts through the space, bright and unfiltered and blissfully unaware of my internal monologue.
“Dad!”
Every muscle in my body locks. Not in a tragic way, more like a “well, this is happening now” way.
My shoulders tense. My breath stalls halfway in. My heart drops—then immediately scrambles back up like it’s late for an appointment.
I square my shoulders, paste on something that passes for composure, and turn toward the sound, fully aware I have an audience of two paying attention to my every move.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, already moving, “I’m going to go handle this.”
Charlie half rises. “Should I—”
“No,” I cut in. “You two stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I walk toward the front of the store on legs that feel like they were borrowed from someone braver. Or at least someone with better balance.
Theo is bouncing. Full-body, unchecked enthusiasm. David stands just behind him, tall and composed in a suit I don’t recognize, smiling like he hasn’t just short-circuited my nervous system by existing in my space again.
“Juliette—”
He steps forward and opens his arms.
Every instinct I have says nope. Sidestep this hug. Handshake only. Keep your distance.
But then I see Theo watching us. Waiting. Face literally glowing and lit up.
So I make a choice…I let David hug me.
It’s quick and very polite. Carefully contained. The kind of hug meant for public consumption only. I step back first.
“Hi,” I say, pleasant and composed, because this is me modeling functional adulthood. For my son.
Theo, meanwhile, has noticed none of the emotional nuance happening three inches from his face. He barrels forward, wrapping himself around David like this is the best day of his life.
I inhale slowly.
Parents can divorce.
Parents can still get along.
Even if one of them (me…I’m one of them) is smiling through gritted teeth.
“Great to see you,” he says, as he looks me up and down.
He’s scanning my outfit, making sure it looks good.
It’s a habit of his, one he did before we’d go out to dinner or to see friends.
The ole ‘last looks’ is what I called it in jest, but nevermind it always made me feel less than.
“You look amazing. I know that shirt, you’ve had it since… our honeymoon?”
“I’m not sure if you’re showing us how good your memory is or reminding me how old my shirt is, but I guess I should say thanks?” I say this with a smile, even though my words are most certainly served with more than a dash of vinegar.
“Dad, I have to show you something,” Theo blurts, already tugging on David’s sleeve. “I won a race at school and Timmy’s my best friend now and his parents invited me to Ocean City this summer and Mom might let me go and I work here sometimes and I help Charlie and—”
David laughs, wide and easy. “Whoa, buddy. One miracle at a time.”
Theo beams.
“I’ll tell you what,” David says. “How about I take you out for ice cream? Right now. You feel like ice cream?”
Theo gasps like he’s been offered a trip to space. “Yes!”
“Then let’s go,” David says, glancing at me. “If your mom’s okay with it, that is.”
My hand is already on Theo’s back, holding him a little closer than necessary. I lean down and kiss the top of his head.
“Hey,” I murmur. “Why don’t you go in the back with Charlie for a minute, okay? He’ll make sure you’re all clean and presentable for ice cream. I need a quick word with your dad.”
Theo nods eagerly. “Okay!”
He darts toward the back of the store, calling Charlie’s name at full volume, already narrating his ice cream order. I turn my focus to David now that we’re alone, standing in the front of Leaf & Letter, surrounded by a bevy of plants that feel like a quiet audience to our awkward reunion.
David shifts his weight, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket like he’s settling in for a conversation instead of standing in the middle of my livelihood with my heart quietly in his crosshairs.
“So,” he says, casual as anything. “The store looks good. You’ve got a lot of stock.”
“Thanks,” I say, a genuine grin spreading across my face. “We’re definitely in a better position now than we have been. Nothing is perfect, but the books balance and for that I’m grateful.”
“Well, see?” he says with a nod, hands in his pockets as he sways from one foot to the other. “Hockey can help people, too.”
My jaw almost unhinges itself. “What?”
“That’s not what I—” David smacks his forehead. “That did not come out as planned. This is not easy for me.”
“For you?” I resist the urge to snort, really loud, in his face. “I feel like the easy part is only having yourself to take care of. You know…party of one and all that.”
“I came here wanting us to get along,” David whispers, loud enough I’m sure they heard it across the street, but at least he tried.
“Well, how’s it going so far?” I almost shriek before I stop and get a hold of myself. This is not going to get us anywhere nor do anything for our son.
Crossing my arms, I look back at David, who is kicking off his shoe and pulling off his sock, waving it in the air.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted a white flag.” He holds up a blue-and-white striped sock. “Best I could do. Truce?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes. Truce.” I shake my head and look at him. “I promised myself I’d be an adult today.”
David shrugs. “We’re human. None of it’s perfect, but his birthday can be right?”
“His birthday is shaping up to be amazing.” I narrow my eyes. “You’d better be there for that kid, David. He’s so excited you’re coming.”
David exhales, running a hand over the back of his neck—the universal gesture of a man who means well and still manages to miss the mark.
He isn’t cruel. He isn’t careless on purpose.
He’s just someone who was never meant to be anchored, who drifts through life assuming things will sort themselves out without realizing some things need choosing.
“I will be there,” he says, shaking his head and looking at me like I’m the unreasonable one.
And maybe, in his world, he believes that’s enough.
“Great,” I reply. “The good news is that everything’s all figured out. You’re on the list for the box. I’ll text you the info—how to get in, where to go.”
“That sounds like a plan.” He looks down at the floor, and my attention is pulled back to the suit he’s wearing.
“Seriously, that’s a nice suit. Did you dress up for ice cream?”
He gestures to his suit. “I didn’t put this on for fun. I had a third interview today. With a company here in D.C.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes have just done the cartoon “ba-wooga” and popped right out of my head. If I held my hands out in front of me, I would’ve caught them. “You what now?”
“If they offer me the job, I’ve already decided that I’ll take it. Which means I’ll be back. In the area.”
The words hit like a soft explosion.
“So you’re not moving back for your son,” I say quietly. “You’re moving back if a company hires you. If they do, then you’ll fit Theo in.”
David’s jaw tightens. “I’m not doing this right now.”
“Neither am I,” I say, lowering my voice. “Not with your son ten feet away and a wall of succulents judging us.”
Right on cue, Theo comes barreling out of the back room, hair slightly feral, cheeks flushed like he’s been powered by the promise of unlimited scoops of ice cream.
“I’m ready! Ready for ice creams and cones and sprinkles, too,” he announces, like this is a legally binding decision.
David’s face shifts instantly into Dad Mode—easy smile, relaxed shoulders, warmth dialed all the way up. The change is so smooth it almost deserves applause.
“Sounds perfect, buddy,” David says.
We head toward the door together, the three of us moving in careful formation, like nothing significant was just lobbed into the middle of my day. Like we’re not tiptoeing over emotional fault lines in broad daylight.
This birthday was supposed to be simple.
Instead, it’s already shaping up to be…memorable.
And not in the ice-cream-and-sprinkles kind of way.