6. Jules
SIX
JULES
“We’re only getting married once,” Ash says on video call. His neat blond hair is a little messy, which I find odd. Ash is always well put together, even when we were in college.
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m still chafing from last night's family dinner. I shouldn’t have interacted with Drew. The night started off perfectly, I was sticking with my plan to pretend he doesn’t exist, and then he ruined it all.
This morning, I woke up to two missed calls from Ash and Remy, and a demand for me to call them back ASAP. Before them, I didn’t know ex-boyfriends could demand so much of your time.
“Given that you’ve dated the same man since college, I’m not the least bit surprised to hear that,” I say.
“It means you have to come to the wedding,” Remy says, appearing on screen. His long dark hair is out of its usual neat bun, and with his sharp features and pale skin, he looks like he’s a fae prince.
“Because you still haven’t RSVP’d and the wedding is at the end of June,” Ash reminds me.
“Oh no! At the end of June? It’s like I’ve missed all your reminders and the wedding card you sent me.”
“Juliet, why haven’t you RSVP’d for the wedding?” Remy demands.
How do I tell them that watching my ex-boyfriends get married is bringing up a lot of feels?
How do I tell them I’m jealous? Not of them individually because I wish I was marrying one of them, but of them together.
The three of us dated in college and they’re about to get married while the idea of dating someone makes my palms sweat.
I mean, hello. I was in a throuple once, and now look at me. It’s Saturday morning, I’m in my fluffy pink robe, talking to my ex’s about their wedding. No husband, fiancé, boyfriend, or pet to speak of.
Ash and Remy announced their engagement the same time Lavinia got married—I never believed it would be temporary, no matter what she said—and it made me feel like I was being left behind. They were moving to a new chapter while I’m still struggling to find my place.
“If you’re worried about bringing a date, I’ve invited a whole lot of eligible men,” Ash sings.
“I won’t be needing a date,” I say. I’ll be attending the wedding by myself and leaving by myself.
Remy peers at me closely, his discerning gaze not missing anything.
“Are you dating someone?”
I laugh. “Absolutely not. You know me, I’m so picky.”
“You’re never going to find anyone if you don’t even try,” Remy says gently. “You can’t let your demons win. Are you still seeing Dr. Kim?”
I exhale loudly, regretting calling them back before I’ve even had my coffee. I get up from the breakfast stool and pad over to the coffee machine, popping a pod into it.
“Yes, I’m still seeing Dr. Kim,” I reply. I won't share more. When Remy recommended Dr. Kim, we made a deal that he won’t ask me about my sessions and I won’t be disclosing them. The only person I talk to about them is Lavinia because I’m not afraid to be vulnerable with her.
“How are you dealing with Lavinia moving out?” Ash asks.
“I’m fine, Mom.” I appreciate their care and thoughtfulness, but I’m not a child. “Thank you for caring about me and loving me. But I’m fine. I’ll be at the wedding. Consider this my RSVP.”
“See, I told you we can bully her into coming.” Ash grins, bumping his shoulder against Remy’s.
We stay on the phone a bit longer as they tell me about their wedding plans, and the trip they’re planning on taking after. I listen to them chat while I sip my coffee.
Once we hang up, with another promise from me that I’ll be at the wedding, I head into the shower. Lavinia is supposed to be here soon to record the next episode of Unscripted, our podcast.
There’s an email from our manager inquiring if we want to consider a live podcast. So far, we’ve turned down all requests which require me to be present in public.
Lavinia has millions of followers on her social media page, but she’s a known media personality and a famous athlete.
I have thousands of followers on my author socials which I keep faceless.
The more popular our podcast becomes, the more afraid I am that my parents are going to find an excuse to make my life miserable. That’s why I keep myself off the socials and I write under a pen name that’s only known to the Callahan’s.
I take the time to blow dry my hair after my shower, even though I have no plans to go anywhere. I put on nice clothes, do my make-up, and by the time I step out of my room, Lavinia is already opening the door of the apartment. She still has a key.
“Whoa, is this for me or you meeting someone else afterwards?” She takes in my blow dried hair and make-up, the capris and strapless top.
“It’s all for you, baby.” I wink at her.
“I’m flattered. No wonder Roman thinks he has to compete with you.”
“He has to compete with me because we’re soulmates,” I say.
She’s carrying a bouquet of flowers and a box of pastries, which she sets on the kitchen island. From under the kitchen sink, she grabs the tulip shaped glass vase and arranges the flowers.
“I can’t put out flowers at home because the cats will knock them down,” Lavinia says. Roman had three black cats before marriage.
I feel a twinge in my chest hearing her call Roman’s apartment home when not that long ago, this used to be her home.
Can I be happy for her and sad for myself or am I just a selfish cow?
No one could be happier for my best friend and Roman is utterly perfect, he respects Lavinia, he cares for her, and loves her like no man can.
I feel terrible every time I think about losing my best friend when I’ve ‘lost’ her to the best relationship of her life with a man who worships her.
Reason number four hundred and twenty six for why I’m going to remain in therapy forever.
“Did you see the email from Minhye?” I ask, referring to our manager.
“I bought cupcakes,” Lavinia says, pushing the box towards me. “They’re from Delphine’s.”
That’s her favorite bakery located in Cambridge. I look at the cupcakes, each the size of my hand and beautifully decorated, and then up at my best friend.
“If this is your way of telling me you’re pregnant, I’m going to need a sedative to recover from the shock.”
Lavinia’s cheeks turn almost as red as her hair. “Oh my god! I’m not pregnant. Everyone just needs to stop assuming that.”
“Sorry, that was terrible of me. Marriage doesn’t equal being pregnant, I should know better.”
I really should know better and I blame my own spiraling thoughts for assuming Lavinia and Roman are already family planning. I grab a plate, make myself a cup of decaf coffee, a fresh cup for Lavinia, and sit down on the breakfast stool. The cupcakes are large enough that we can just share one.
“Why are you trying to butter me up?” I ask.
Lavinia shrugs, pushing her fork into the cupcake. “I’m not trying to butter you up.”
“Vin, there has to be a reason why you’re breaking your cardinal rule of never having sugar for breakfast.”
Her eyes flash up to mine. “The sugar makes me crash mid-afternoon. Besides, it’s not a rule so much as a lifestyle choice. I eat pancakes for breakfast sometimes, it’s basically the same thing.”
“Not that I’m not enjoying the cupcakes, but is there a reason you bought them? And the flowers?”
The flowers add a nice touch to the apartment.
The place that once used to be whimsical and full of color is now a shocking white, everything aesthetic and soulless.
The only reason I haven’t left is because I can still feel Gemma here sometimes.
I can imagine her standing in the living room, staring at the uncomfortable, modern couch my mother picked out, and murmuring under her breath that if a designer told my mother dog shit was aesthetic, she’d hang it on the wall.
“About last night…” Lavinia begins.
“You don’t have to apologize on behalf of Drew,” I say. “We’re old enough now that he can apologize for his own misbehavior, which he won’t because he obviously thinks he’s not wrong.”
Lavinia’s mouth flattens into a line. “You’re no less! The two of you instigate each other like nothing else. I’m worried one day I’m going to walk into a room and find the two have killed each other.”
I shove a piece of cupcake into my mouth. “Please, if I somehow survive, I don’t want to go to prison for Andrew’s murder.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Lavinia says. “Maybe… the two of you can try being nice to each other.”
I snort a laugh. “Nice? To Drew? Be so for real.”
Exhaling a breath, Lavinia reaches out and grabs my free hand. “You’re nice to everyone.”
“Everyone isn’t Drew.”
“I don’t even know why the two of you hate each other,” Lavinia says with exasperation.
“Hate is a strong word,” I say. “I only hate predators. I strongly dislike your brother.”
Setting her elbow on the table, Lavinia rests her chin on her raised fist. “Why do you strongly dislike Drew?”
It’s hard to say for sure. Drew and I have always been like chalk and cheese.
If I want to go left, he has to point out that going right is the correct choice.
If I say I like something, he has to point out why I’m wrong.
When we had to do a school project together in high school, he made me do all the work but still took half the credit. And then there was that night.
“We have to record the podcast or the team won’t have enough time to edit it.” I start to move but Lavinia is quicker, grabbing my thighs and holding me in place.
Her eyes are sharp as she looks at me. “You can’t ignore my question, Juliet Love.”
I hold her gaze. “You can’t make me answer, Lavinia Callahan-Maddox.”
Vin’s eyes narrow. “Maybe I can’t. But the tickle monster can.”
Her fingers press into my side before I properly safeguard myself and I giggle at the assault of tickles.
“Stop it!”
“Not until you answer me.” Lavinia laughs.
“No!” Reaching out, I press my fingers against her sides and Lavinia twists away, laughing along with me.
Here we are, two women in our early thirties, tickling each other because it’s better than arguing or being upset. And just like that, I’m saved from answering any questions about Drew.
“Let’s talk live shows,” Minhye says, during our meeting on Monday afternoon. I’m sitting in my office, wearing pajamas and a blazer so I look professional from the waist up.
On screen, Lavinia is already shaking her head.
We discussed on Saturday that she’d be the one to turn down Minhye this time since she’s the star of the show.
By which I mean, people know her more, she’s the one with the social media presence, and if people download our episodes, it’s because of her.
Our dynamic might make them stay, but she’s the one bringing in the audience.
Minhye is in her sunny California office, the windows behind her bringing in bright light. There’s a textured floral painting hanging on the white wall behind her.
“We’ve already discussed this, and we’re not ready to do live shows,” Lavinia says.
“The sponsors and the production house want to have a live show because they think the audience would love that. The two of you feeding off the crowd’s energy will make Unscripted exactly what it's meant to be—unscripted.”
When we started the podcast, it was literally just the two of us talking nonsense for an hour.
We might be experts in our individual fields—Lavinia with hockey, me with books—but that’s just a part of what we talk about on the show.
The show is truly Unscripted because we sit down, start talking, and see what we come up with over the next hour.
When we were bought out by Vandenberg Media Corp, it came with a production team, merch, a salary, the ability to have guests on the show, and of course, Minhye.
We’re too big.
The voice in the back of my head won’t stop whispering. I might be the only person in the world who’s scared of success because it’s going to have demons knocking on my door.
“Min, just tell them no,” Lavinia says.
“They own the show, and they can fire you if you refuse,” Minhye says. She’s wearing a diamond encrusted dragonfly brooch on the lapel of her white blazer and it keeps drawing my attention. Even on video, I can see it sparkle.
“I’m not saying this to be conceited, but Unscripted is nothing without us. How are they going to find two life long best friends who can talk endlessly for hours about anything?” I say. “What are they going to do? Make it scripted?”
“How about a public appearance? From both of you?”
Minhye is just trying to do her job. She doesn’t know that the idea of being in public like that leaves me cold.
“Jules doesn’t leave her hobbit hole, but I’m available for a public appearance,” Lavinia says easily. Our eyes connect on screen briefly and she offers me a reassuring smile.
Minhye sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She’s of an indeterminate age, but I swear she ages ten years during these calls with us.
“Girls, I need you two to get serious. You’re not in college making a half-ass show that five people listen to, four of whom are your parents.” Minhye sounds exasperated.
“You’ve got millions of listeners, which means VMC sees money in you.
We’re talking about the possibility of guest appearances on shows, a bigger payout, maybe a book deal.
If the two of you are a package deal, then I need you to come to terms with the fact that Juliet can’t remain in the shadows.
Please think about this. I’ll hold off VMC for now, but they’re not fucking around. ”
She ends the call on her end. Lavinia and I are left staring at each other.
“She’s not wrong,” I say.
“No, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to do what some big media corporation demands even if they’re technically our boss,” Lavinia says. “This is why we held on to the rights for the title and concept. Unscripted is ours. Don’t listen to Minhye.”
Her undying support isn’t enough to buoy my spirit when I know Minhye is right. I’m holding Lavinia back from getting all the success she deserves because of all the toxicity in my life.
“Do you want to go to the game tonight?” Lavinia asks, her mouth tilting up into a smirk.
“Ew.”
“Come on, you know you have fun listening to me explain the rules. Sage will be there and we can go out afterwards.”
I exhale a put upon sigh. “Fine. But I’m not going to be nice to Drew.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Lavinia smiles. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I end the call and shove a hand through my hair. Well, that was disappointing.