Happily Ever Afters: A BWWM Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Mila Nicks

  Juliette stumbled on Mom and Dad the next morning on the terrace. The fifty-somethings had decided on a private breakfast date amongst the blue waves. She smiled eavesdropping on them being sweet on each other.

  Mom cleared her throat to signal they were no longer alone. As if rehearsed, Dad promptly ended his soft whispers into her ear then and plucked the morning paper off the table. He greeted Juliette and asked her if she’d read the latest on the Atlanta Mayoral race.

  “I was just telling your mother—”

  “You guys are adorable,” Juliette said, not fooled for a second. “Don’t mind me, I didn’t know you were out here.”

  Mom waved a hand. “Honey, stay. Have breakfast with us!”

  “Where’s Preston? I found some fishing equipment I think is gonna be exactly what we need to reel in the big catches!”

  “He’s still sleeping. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.” Juliette took her seat at the table and eyed the flaky croissants and cinnamon butter.

  “Sounds like this one.” Mom teased a smirk.

  “Or, Brandy baby, maybe you just get up too early—ever think of that?” Dad looked satisfied with his comeback as if it was the cleverest imaginable. Juliette and Mom both snickered, tickled by Dad’s corny humor. He opened his mouth to join them, but then clutched his chest and groaned. “The doc warned me about that butter. I had to have a smear.”

  “Oh, Tom, Tom…I told you. Here, time to go lay down.”

  Juliette rose with them, but Mom placated her worry.

  “Your dad’s fine. Please don’t panic. He gets chest pains sometimes when he eats a bit of something he shouldn’t. I have the island doc on speed dial. Finish your breakfast, honey.” Mom gave her a reassuring smile and then disappeared into the house.

  Juliette had witnessed Dad’s chest pains before. His heart problems had been ongoing throughout the past few years, but it never stopped alarming her. She plopped back down into the chair and realized her appetite had gone.

  It was seven minutes before eight. Maybe now Preston was up. If he wasn’t, she considered waking him up with kisses. Last night they’d exhaustedly fallen asleep cuddled close. Of course by the time she woke, she’d drifted to the edge of the bed, ever the roamer.

  The glass door opened for the second time in sixty seconds. Natasia strolled onto the terrace to collect the breakfast plates. She faltered, surprised to see Juliette outside. Her recovery was quick and she continued to the table.

  “I’m assuming your parents aren’t coming back,” she said, stacking plates. “I saw them head upstairs. I hope your father feels better.”

  Juliette wasn’t sure how genuine the remark was, but she played it safe and thanked her. In her one-on-one interactions with Natasia, she hadn’t yet sussed out what it was about her that rubbed her the wrong way. At first she’d assumed she was shy and awkward. Maybe a hard-to-understand personality type. But at other times, it felt like it was more than that.

  “I also saw your sister and her fiancé,” Natasia continued. She smirked and balanced the plates in her arms. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out there’s trouble in paradise—literally. I hope the wedding is as magical as your sister wants it to be.”

  Juliette snapped at once. On her feet, she glared at the Brosman staff member. “Let’s get one thing straight, you don’t know shit about what’s going on, so stay out of it.”

  “I’m making an observation. I’m allowed to do that, right?”

  “I have no idea what your problem is and I don’t care. You can make all the observations you want. Just remember: you hurt my sister, I hurt you.”

  Juliette stormed off the terrace, temper ramped up. She was usually the voice of reason, but the few instances her temper ignited, it was difficult to calm down. Her stride up the stairs was fast, shaken by the anger that had burst to life in a flash.

  If she wasn’t sure about Natasia Williams before, she was now. Without a doubt, the woman was a problem.

  Preston rolled over to a giant empty space next to him in the king-sized bed. Eyes squinted due to morning grogginess, he sat up and scratched his messy hair. The bedroom was quiet as a mouse. Juliette must’ve snuck out so not to wake him.

  As if on cue, the knob turned and Juliette walked through. She shot him a last-second smile, clearly expecting him to be asleep. He couldn’t be fooled though. He’d seen that feigned smile plenty of times. Something bothered her.

  “C’mere.” He opened his arms wide, motioning for her to throw herself into him.

  Juliette rolled her eyes, still smiling, only now a real one, and she caved. She approached the bed and fell into his arms to immediate giggles. The new couple rolled amongst the pillows. Their limbs tangled as their unplanned cuddling consisted of tiny kisses and caresses. Preston concentrated on lightening her mood. He eased her against the pillows and nuzzled her, his hands rubbing her smooth skin.

  “Want me to go handle somebody?” he teased when Juliette had relaxed into the pillows.

  Her eyes shone. “You’re so silly.”

  “Just tell me who it is and I’ll take care of it.”

  “The funny part is you’re serious.”

  “Sure am. Say the word. They’re done for.” He kissed her forehead and then dropped onto his back beside her. “So, what happened to have you looking like that when you walked in? You looked kinda…pissed.”

  Juliette explained the encounter on the terrace with her parents and Natasia. At the end, she bookended the story by mentioning she didn’t want to think about it. Today was supposed to be their day.

  Preston held her hand in his, tracing the crease lines on her palm with his thumb. “Lucky for you, I’m here to take your mind off things. Ready?”

  Her giggle was like music. “Ready.”

  They mustered the fortitude to get out of bed and dress for their adventurous day on the island. Preston changed into a thin white v-neck and navy linen shorts, slipping his feet into casual loafers. He fluffed his wavy brown curls with his fingers and some gel, styled the way he knew Juliette liked.

  Finished before her, he couldn’t resist being a bug. He came up behind her as she stood at the bathroom mirror, primping. His arms slipped over her hips and his lips landed on the nape of her neck. The first thought that ran through his mind, nose grazing her skin, was how achingly amazing she smelled. The scent was a paradise of its own, like natural skin blended with the softest amber note of her perfume.

  “Good enough to eat,” he teased, lips pressing another kiss.

  Juliette shuddered and gasped his name. “Rickkkk…do you want me to finish? Or are you going to keep torturing me?”

  “Option two sounds like more fun.”

  She twisted in his arms to glower at him and he roared a laugh. Hands lifted up in the air, he backed away with false innocence.

  “Fine, fine. Finish getting ready.”

  He already drank up the view. Juliette wore an off-the-shoulder white romper with pink floral patterns. The cut of the cotton fabric accentuated her body in all the right places. She’d adorned the outfit with minimal jewelry and a strapped pair of sandals that would allow for adventures. He imagined that was also why she bunned her jet black tresses on top of her head.

  “See? Didn’t take long,” she boasted, emerging from the bathroom when done. She slipped her crossbody bag onto her shoulder and snatched her sunglasses off the dresser. “What’s the plan?”

  Preston reached for her hand. “The plan is there is no plan. We’re going with the flow, remember?”

  That theme framed their entire morning. They trotted down the front path leading into the street and left the Brosman’s beach house behind. Lucky for them a pedicab happened to pedal by at that exact moment. Preston held up his arm to flag him down.

  “Where to?”

  Preston and Juliette shrugged as one. “Surprise us.”

  The pedicab dived into street traffic. Though the roads on Paradise Key lacked motor vehicles, the other pe
dicabs and bikers created a frenzied atmosphere on their own. Before they could collect their wits, they zoomed down the winding streets on the island. The warm air smacked into their cheeks and the colorful buildings whizzed by, blurring into a rainbow. They held onto the armrests in the pedicab and relished in the thrilling race to spontaneity.

  The drum-heavy calypso beats echoed a street away. The pedicab hustled for the last block and rolled up on their destination. The weekly street market was going on, attracting tourists from each corner of the island. Preston and Juliette hopped out the pedicab and set off to explore.

  The sensation overload on footstep number one forced them to stop and marvel the sights, sounds and smells. The endless row of booths sold everything from tropical fruits and Caribbean delicacies to rare flowers and handmade trinkets. The aromas, mixes of fresh herbs, citrus fruits, and fried foods like plantains, played off the salty notes from the ocean well. The rhythmic beats from the live music, the band arranged in the middle of their street with their bongo drums and bass guitar, encouraged a carefree celebratory mood.

  Juliette beamed at Preston. Her message was clear. She wanted to indulge in every nook and cranny of the street market. His arm slung over her hips and they took off down the street. They visited food booths, sampling on bites to eat between each other.

  “Try this,” said Juliette, holding up a beef patty to his mouth.

  He bit into the flaky crust and nodded his approval. “Pretty tasty. Lemme have another.”

  “Get your own.”

  “It’s like that?”

  She laughed, holding the patty out of reach. “One bite only.”

  “That’s selfish. Yanno that, right?”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “Rude. Too bad I make my own rules,” he husked, pulling her into his arms from behind. He kissed her cheek and then stole another bite from the patty. Juliette nestled in his arms, too racked by laughs to protest.

  “Okay, but you have to try the jerk chicken.”

  “Jerk chicken?”

  Juliette grabbed his arm and hauled him to the next stall.

  “It’s delicious—it’s chicken flavored with spices and peppers.”

  “You ever see me eat hot food? I turn redder than a tomato.”

  “It’ll be worth it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Preston said, but he was too late.

  Juliette had launched into a conversation with the woman cooking the jerk chicken. She ordered a four piece, rocking on her feet in anticipation. The styrofoam container was placed into Juliette's hand and she held up the tender meat for Preston's tasting.

  “Try it,” she encouraged, cutting a chunk off with a plastic fork. She fed it directly to his mouth and waited patiently for his reaction.

  The flavors exploded on his tongue. Preston stood still and let the tangy spices dance on his taste buds. Normally he was a simple man when it came to food, happy with a burger and fries, but the unique flavor blends hit the spot. He opened his mouth for another taste and Juliette tossed her head back, laughing.

  “You liked it?”

  “More,” he said, sniping at the fork.

  They spent the rest of the time alternating between each other. One forkful for Juliette and the other for Preston until the last bite of jerk chicken was swallowed. They graduated to the next couple of booths to sample more foods.

  “When we get back to Atlanta, we’re going to have to hit the gym extra hard.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t like me with a beer gut?”

  Juliette poked his sides and came close for a peck on the lips. “I’d still like you with a beer gut the size of Santa Claus. But you know what would make me like you more?”

  “Do I wanna know?”

  “Kickboxing! Now that we’re dating, you have to come with me.”

  “Oh, so the real motive comes out. Was that your evil plan all along?” Preston's suspicion was put on hold for more kisses and giggles from Juliette. He couldn’t protest much. Because who was he kidding? He couldn’t say no to her.

  Not now. Not ever.

  From the next stand they shared a cup of coconut pudding. The flaky sugar goodness was difficult to ignore, but the scene across the street captured their attention. Dozens crowded around the live band. They joined the cluster and watched the performance.

  The band lived and breathed the flavorful rhythms they created. The drumming congas offset the blaring trumpets and shaking maracas, syncing into tropical beats impossible to resist. Feet tapped and heads bopped shoulder-to-shoulder. Others broke out in full dancing, middle of the street market be damned. Even the band themselves jammed to their own music, bouncing along.

  Juliette's hips began to sway, her back to his front. Preston wasn’t a dancer, but he loved seeing Juliette unwind. He grinned wide and his arms slid across her stomach. She reached up, hips still rolling, and grabbed the tuft of hair on the back of his neck. He anticipated her half-twist around and kissed her on the mouth.

  Neither thought about P.D.A. Neither cared. It was hard to when Juliette swayed and his tongue played with hers. Throw in the island tunes and lax atmosphere, and he was done for in more ways than one.

  Relationship fresh, they hadn’t yet gone there—which made the gyrations all the more torturous. Surely she knew what she was doing to him, her ass rubbing against his front in slow but teasing rolls. Then again, that was likely the point knowing Juliette. She was a mastermind after all.

  Two songs later, the live band went on break and Preston regained his sanity. The crowd thinned and dispersed, heading in different directions. Juliette hung onto his arm and steered them toward a booth selling hand-crafted souvenir trinkets.

  “We should buy Tank something,” she suggested. On a rack next to the oils and balms, were pet collars. She picked up a thick collar patterned with tiny palm trees and implored him with her big, brown eyes. “C’mon, tell me Tank wouldn’t look adorable with this on his neck?”

  “Sometimes I think you love him more than I do.”

  “I can’t wait to take him to the park when we get back.”

  Preston smiled at her, endeared by her excitement. Not only had she been an amazing friend these last couple of years, she was also obviously an even better girlfriend. She adored his dog, for Christ’s sake, thinking about him on their vacation. She really couldn’t have been more perfect for him. How had it taken him so long to realize?

  They waved goodbye to the seller with tiny plastic bags around their wrists and surveyed the booths for their next stop. Preston's pocket buzzed and he withdrew his phone. The number was unfamiliar, but included the Atlanta area code.

  “Wonder if it’s the station,” he said, alarmed straightaway.

  Juliette pressed pause on her own carefree mood and stood dutifully by his side as he answered.

  “Hello. Vice Detective Preston Brooker. Who’s calling?”

  “Preston? Sooo glad you answered!”

  Preston's brows squished together. “Alexandria?”

  “Yesss! I was hoping to get a hold of you. I haven’t been able to reach Juliette. Is she, uh, is she with you?”

  “Yeah, she’s right here,” he said, glancing to Juliette's puzzled face. He mouthed Alexandria's name and she rolled her eyes. “Listen, Alexandria, I don’t think Juliette is free to—”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Juliette sighed. “But it better be important.”

  Preston handed Juliette his cellphone. Alexandria was a good friend and Juliette valued their friendship, but the blonde’s constant calls peeved her. She knew about her trip to Paradise Key for Gigi and Dom’s wedding. She knew that Preston was coming along as her faux fiancé. She knew that there’d be plenty of time for them to catchup once she returned. What possibly warranted six phone calls in three days?

  “You’re killing the fun tropical vibe here. What’s so important you need to talk to me this badly?” Juliette asked in her brutally blunt delivery. Alexandria was used to it; being an A.D.A
herself she also possessed the same direct delivery when required.

  “Juliette,” gasped Alexandria. Her shocked smile could be heard through the phone. “I know that tone. What did I interrupt? Are you and the Vice Detective—you are! You are! You slept with Pres—”

  “I refuse to believe you’d call me about that. What is it, Alex? Speak fast.”

  Alexandria growled out of frustration. “You told me not to mess with him. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t say no when he was taking me out to five course dinners at Vernelli’s and surprising me with Tiffany’s. The bastard was lying. He’s not separated. He’s married.”

  Juliette clenched her eyes shut and labored a sigh. As predicted, Alexandria's idea of a emergency was her messy dating shenanigans. “That’s why you’ve been blowing up my phone?”

  “His wife messaged me on Instapix. She says she’s going to come by the office and confront me. What do I do? What if she wants to kick my ass? I can’t fight!”

  “You probably should’ve thought about that before you screwed her husband.”

  “I know! Ugh! How do I get myself into this shit?”

  “Look, I can’t talk about this right now, Alex. But I’m all-ears when I’m back in Atlanta, okay?” She shot an apologetic glance in Preston's direction. “Just…Just stop messing around with him and hope she wasn’t being serious.”

  “I wanted the Tarantino case, but Jones gave it to your wonderful ex. Figures,” huffed the blonde. “Winston Carter wouldn’t know how to get through a day without ass-kissing.”

  “Whatever keeps him from messaging me on Instapix. He created some dummy account.”

  “I haven’t seen him this morning, but I’ll tell him to fuck off for you when I do.”

  Juliette hurried to axe the conversation. She didn’t want to think about Alexandria's drama and she didn’t want to think about Winston and his fuckery either. The only thing she wanted was to spend the rest of the day alone with Preston. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, she apologized with a soft kiss.

  “Crisis averted?”