Seeing him there like that — hanging out with his buddies, looking like he has no care in the world — makes me angry. Sad. Confused. In a matter of seconds, I’m crying. Sucking in air through lungs that don’t want to work. I grip the steering wheel, gunning the car in the opposite direction. But not before my sure I whiz by him, just to see how much fun he’s having without me.
“Do you really hate coming home to me that much?” I growl. “Am I really such bad company that you would lie to me about held over at work just so you could hang out with your friends?” I punch the gas more, hooking a wild turn. “Are you that anxious for me to just leave?”
I run a red light. Fine. Then I guess I’ll just go, since you’re not man enough to tell me yourself.
Chapter 24
Juliet
After seeing Brandon in town with his “friends” I don’t go back to work. I don’t even go back to the cabin. Even if there are a couple pieces of clothing, he can have them. He can burn them for all I care. All of my other stuff that I care about — I already have with me. My purse, my phone. A few pieces of makeup. My car, obviously.
And now I do the one thing I’m really, really good at. Running away. Running away from people who care about me and all of my problems with them.
I could go to New York. I have some friends there. A life I used to live there. Could be good for me to hang out there for a while. Maybe go back to my old hairdressing job there. Definitely would get more money, and more clients.
Thinking these thoughts, I speed toward an opposite highway. One that will take me out of town. Out from Albuquerque, and the New Mexico entirely.
Maybe I should go to Mom’s. Go to Denver. Hang out there. Maybe try to get a job in my own place there. I swallow down tears and snot I don’t even want to be shedding for Brandon. I’ve also decided to turn off my phone. My boss has started calling me like mad. Probably wondering where the fuck I am, since it’s over an hour passed when I was due back from my break.
It doesn’t really matter what I do now. I’m pregnant. With a baby Brandon never wanted. He doesn’t even really seem to care about me anymore. Not when he can go hang out with his friends. So it doesn’t even matter for me to stay here or be here any longer.
Out my window, a sign for the freeway whips past.
I gotta get outta here. For good. Forever. Dad — a sickeningly sweet echo of his laugh and flash of his face — appears in my memory, in my grieving ears. Too many bad memories here. Too many parts of my life ruined.
Chapter 25
Brandon
“Juliet!” I bustle in through the front door of the cabin, feeling happier than I have in a long time. “Juliet, hon! It’s me, babe! I’m home!” As I finish coming in through both doors (first the screen and then the main one), I’m feeling too happy at first to notice the pit in my stomach. The creeping sensation of loneliness. “Juliet!” I walk into the house, shutting the door behind me.
Though part of my mind has started to tell me something’s wrong — that Juliet isn’t in where she should be — I’m not willing to come down off of my emotional high right now. I’ve got a ring in my pocket. One I just bought today, deciding that I’m ready. That she’s the one I want to marry.
Best of all, though, is the fact that I bought the ring and ran it by my guy friends this afternoon. I asked their opinion on it — the size and shape of the ring; the quality and cut of the diamond, and they all signed off on it. They all said it was the perfect engagement ring for a woman like Juliet, even though I might be falling too fast for her. “Sorry I’m late, Juliet! I got home as fast as I could, babe, but I promise you the weight is gonna be worth it!” I hustle in through the sitting room and toward the kitchen.
Naïvely, part of me hopes that she’s just in there somewhere. Hiding amongst the pots and pans or something. Maybe hasn’t heard me because of too much boiling water or sizzling grease or something. But I know that’s not possible. There is no noise in the house except for me. Still though, I keep positive. Force myself to.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, hon!” I shout, fighting against what I’m already beginning to realize: Juliet’s gone. She’s nowhere in the house. But I don’t want to succumb to that reality. Not yet. She’s gotta be somewhere around here I think, desperate for that to be true. She wouldn’t just run off without telling me. Especially with her not feeling as good the last couple of days. Surely, she would let me know if she was going somewhere.
But by the time I’ve walked through the kitchen and seen that nothings been moved from when I cooked breakfast, I know she’s not here. She’s gone somewhere without telling me.
“Juliet?” Now I’m far from happy. I panicked. Scared. Something I haven’t felt since coming home from the war. But worse. Now it’s not about whatever I suffered in combat; it’s about where that woman could’ve gone to, and in her less-than-healthy condition.
I hustle down the hallway, calling for her.
To each of my calls, there is no response. Only silence.
Still, I won’t let this deter me. I investigate the whole rest of the house, calling for her. Telling her I’m home, and that I have something really important to show her. To ask her.
All of those things fall on a silent, empty house, though.
Eventually, I’m forced to admit reality. And it’s as I’ve burst into the room I let her stay in — my room — and I see that she’s not there, either. Neither are her few possessions. They’re both gone. Without a trace.
She left me. She left without a single word to me. Not even a text. I look at my phone, confirming what I already know. No text from her at all. No response to my earlier one either.
I wander into the room and sit down on the bed, feeling brainless. Heartless. Soulless.
As I sit down on the bed still disheveled from Juliet getting up this morning, I hold the black box in my hand. The one with the engagement ring I was going to give to her. It sits there like a broken piece of me, unable to be thrown out, or put back together.
“I shouldn’t have been so stupid,” I grumble, choking back tears. Things I haven’t cried or felt like crying in a long time. “I shouldn’t have opened my heart to her. I shouldn’t have gotten attached to her. I should’ve just let her stay there on that cliff. Do what I always do, and mind my own business.” I squeeze the black box in my hands, wishing it wasn’t like this. Wishing she was here tonight for me to come home to. “Anything else is too much trouble.”
I sober up. Toughen up about it all. Oh, well. At least this happened before I proposed to her, right?
Chapter 26
Juliet
Three months later. May/June. New York City.
Since leaving Albuquerque and Brandon behind, I’ve made good on all of my hurried plans. To begin with, I went and visited my mom and Denver. That was shortly before flying here and getting myself set up as a hairdresser again.
That’s what I’ve been doing for the last three months, basically. Cutting hair at a pretty up-and-coming salon in the city. Pretty famous among hair salons, since a lot of celebrities and wealthy business people come there to get trimmed and styled.
Even so, the money isn’t that great. While those clients have a lot of it to go around, they don’t necessarily want to waste it on me: a three-month pregnant young woman. Probably someone they view as a skank and a hoe, no matter how well I try to present myself or dress.
Then again, people aren’t as friendly here as they are in Albuquerque. Not as warm, even in the deepening spring.
But it doesn’t matter. Despite all of that, I’m really here to try to sort out issues with Dad’s estate. Mom and I tried to make sense of it in Denver when I went to visit, but we weren’t able to do anything there. So the ditz at the desk suggested I come here looking for a lawyer or somebody to help with estates like Dad’s.
And that’s what I’m aiming to do today. That’s my mission as I walk up to an attorney at law building, walk inside and had for the front desk
. By the ritzy, classy interior, I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t take walk-ins. But I was too tired to schedule an appointment with anybody. It was also going to be too difficult, considering the hairdressing work I can get here is pretty much a “on call” and therefore not reliable. So scheduling anything outside of work is nearly impossible.
As I reach the desk, I do my best to walk in a way that doesn’t scream, “single, unwed pregnant mother coming through!” though I doubt there will be any helping that. Ever.
Of course, the woman at the desk sees me coming before I even have to start up any kind of conversation. She looks down at me from behind her trendy cat’s eye glasses, polkadot dress, and matching bow. Surprisingly, she’s got a rather 50s hairstyle gone on, despite the fact that we are very clearly in the 21st century. And she’s not even that old. Probably no older than me. 21, 22 years old. “How can I help you today, miss?”
“Yes, my name is Juliet Rez, and I was hoping to talk to someone today about the handling of an estate.”
The receptionist takes notes on her computer as I talk. “Okay. And what kind of estate would we be dealing with today, Miss Rez?”
I clear my throat. “My father was ex-military. He was killed in combat —”
The receptionist looks up at me, looking genuinely saddened. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your loss, miss.”
I wave her away. “It’s fine. Anyway, he was killed in combat, and my mom and I are really in a bind. We need to help get his finances and his will in order, and so far no one’s been able to do that for us. Something about too much military red tape or some such nonsense.”
The receptionist hums, typing something on her keyboard. “What was your father’s name, miss?”
“William Rez,” I say. I give her his military ID. His Navy number. Something I’ve seen over and over again on a lot of his paperwork. Letters and other notices. “I see that you guys specialize in this kind of military servicemen estate deal, so I’m really hoping you can help me and my mom out.”
The receptionist types in the information I’ve given her, but quickly frowns. “I see some mention of a will or other statement of resources, but I’m not able to see anything else.” She leans closer to the computer. “It says that the will was made in Albuquerque, miss.” She meets my gaze. “Did someone tell you we could help you?”
I blush, feeling idiotic and frustrated. “Yes. I went to a similar law firm to this one in Denver Colorado while I was visiting my mom, and she said that I should come to you guys for some help.”
The receptionist shrugs at me. “I have no idea why she would tell you that, to be honest with you. The only lawyers who can help you with this kind of thing are those who are in the state or city in which the will or estate was planned out.”
I sigh, already knowing what this means before she even says it, but she says it anyway.
“I’m sorry, Miss Rez, but we can’t help you here. If you want any help with your father’s will or anything like that, you’re going to have to go back to Albuquerque. That’s just the way it works.” I sigh, almost planting my face on the desk. “I’m sorry. I really am, but we’re not legally able to look into that for you here. It’s against state and federal law.”
I step back from the counter, trying my best to put on a polite smile, even though I feel like crying. “Okay, well, thanks for your help. I guess.”
The receptionist sees that I’m about to leave, and stops me. “Wait. I have someone I can refer you to in Albuquerque.” She quickly tears off a sheet of legal paper and writes on it. She’s working furiously. Amazingly, it seems to be from memory. She hands me the piece of paper with the name, address and phone number, saying, “I’m referring you to a friend of mine named Brynn Smith. He used to work here, but then transferred out to Albuquerque.” As I look at the paper in more detail, she adds, “He works his twin brother, Riley Smith, who is also a good friend of mine. Started a charity down there, I guess.”
I step back, unable to believe what I’ve just heard. Riley. I remember that name. Brynn also, I think. Brandon told me about Riley. Said he worked as a lawyer specifically on behalf of vets and their families.
“They do really good work over there, miss. Heard really great things from a lot of families dealing with similar situations to yours.” She gives me a genuinely warm, reassuring smile. “Just get in touch with Brynn, let him know I sent you. Let him know of your situation, and I’m definitely sure he’ll be able to help you out. Get things moving. Going in the right direction, okay?”
I smile at her, and this time it really does feel like a warm thing on my face. “Thank you. Thank you for your help.” I turn to go out the doors. “I’ll get in contact with them today.”
As I walk out into the clouded-over sunshine, I feel my stomach cramping. It may mean movement to work with them. But it will also mean I’ll have to come closer to Brandon again. I’ll have to step closer into his world, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
Chapter 27
Juliet
A few days later.
As much as I told the receptionist at the other law firm that I would call her referral the day that I got it, I’ve been procrastinating. I’ve avoided doing that. I know it’s really because I don’t want to get anywhere near Albuquerque. I don’t want to think about being in the same room with people Brandon raved about. I don’t want to go there, because then it means I’ll have to admit that he was trying to be helpful from the very beginning, but I didn’t want that kind of help. I didn’t want to let him in, and I don’t like having to admit that.
Of course, I know that my emotions are the real reason, but in front of my friends at the salon, I make it about money. Sarah, Tory, and Cami — my three favorite people in the world, and my coworkers for today, are watching me scribble madly on pieces of paper. Old receipts, trying to figure out my finances. I’m crunching numbers. Working my budget, even though I already know the answer.
After spending the little bit of money I made at my short-term job in Albuquerque to go visit my mom in Denver, plus needing to eat all a lot more with the baby, I’m broke as fuck. I barely have 10 or $15 to my name. Nowhere near enough to buy plane tickets back to Albuquerque.
“Shit,” I mutter, scratching out my latest batch of calculations. “I really need to get back to Albuquerque to settle my dad’s business. His estate/will and everything, but plane tickets are hella expensive. Way too much money. But I’m not gonna have any more money for myself or the baby unless I go.” I growl, hating the fact that being an artist with hair doesn’t pay as well as it should. Hating also the fact that all of our rich clientele are so stingy with tips.
Sarah, one of my friends from hairdressing school, walks right up to me. She swipes her fringe to the side, letting me see her plethora of earrings. Both in her ears and in her nose. She’s even got one in her lower lip. “I’ll pitch in for a ticket, Jules.”
I can’t believe my ears. But I’m not done getting unbelievable news.
“Me too,” says Tory, re-braiding part of her hair in the front. She loves to wear small braids with beads. She even goes so far as to put an eagle feather in a few of them from time to time. Today, she’s just doing beads.
“Me three,” says Cami. She’s a small girl. Way smaller for someone in her early 30s. She always reminds me of a bluebird. She eats very small amounts, but very healthily. “I’ll pitch in for your flight, and a place to stay.”
“Oh my God you guys!” I can barely believe my ears. I sit down in a salon chair, wondering what I’ve done to deserve such kindness. “I can’t do that! I can ask you guys to pay my way like that!” I shake my head, feeling tears pouring out of me no matter how hard I try to keep them back. “That’s too much money!”
“It won’t be if we split it,” says Sarah. “Say your ticket back to Albuquerque is about $400.” I nod. That’s pretty close to what the fare actually is. “Okay. And then say you have to be in Albuquerque for about 1 to 2 days while you wo
rk with a lawyer. Maybe three. Let’s say that that’s another 300 or so.” I nod. “So? That’s only about 700 or so. In between the three of us that’s only about $200-$250 per person.” Sarah looks around at our other friends. “You have 250 extra dollars don’t you, ladies?”
Cami is the first answer this time. “Yeah. So what if I don’t buy sushi and coffee for the next week? If it means I can help you get your father’s stuff in order, I’m gonna do that for you.”
I start crying hard. Almost too hard to speak. “Thank you. Thank you from me and the baby,” I say, touching my belly.
“No worries, girlie,” says Tory, giving me a hug. “$250 is no big deal to us.”
Sarah bumps Tory out of the way. “And before you even try to bring it up, no, you can’t repay us. You can’t make it up to us. This is just something we’re going to do for you because we love and care for you.”
I laugh, feeling completely naked and predictable in front of them. Of course I would. They’re my friends. “Thank you, you guys! Even if you would let me repay you, I don’t even know where I would start.” I laugh, and then cry some more. “I really don’t know, but I know I’m grateful. Thank you.”
I take a deep breath, knowing this is exactly what I needed. A few days in Albuquerque will give me some time to get myself together. As much as I don’t want to think about it, I know I’m going to come face-to-face with Brandon. And when I do, at least I will be more together. More able to face the music. Face the consequences of running away from him like that.
Hold Onto Me_A Secret Baby Romance Page 11