by Mila Nicks
“You don’t belong out there and it shows. I don’t either. We have more in common than you think. Why can’t you at least admit that?”
“Because I want nothing to do with you.”
Natasia's voice grew as she presumably moved deeper into the room. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re exhausted from trying so hard to fit in with Juliette and her family and their stuck-up idea of a wedding celebration. Now she’s outside with her old fiancé. You’re in here feeling like a fool. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“If you’re not going, I’m going.” Preston deserted the window and headed for the open doorway.
Natasia positioned herself in his direct passage. “We can sit and talk. Your heart’s broken that she’s doing this to you. That she’s probably going to go right back to him. Proves what I said, doesn’t it? Nobody belongs to anybody. She doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t have to belong to me—we can just—”
“Get the fuck outta my face!” Preston shouted, patience gone and temper present. “I’m not interested, Natasia—and I’ll never be!”
For a split second, she looked startled he’d raised his voice. That passed for a more hardboiled expression, mouth screwed shut and eyes narrowed. The usual spark in her eyes was nowhere to be found. She regarded him silently for another second and then gave him his wish. She turned on her heel and stormed out the sunroom.
Preston rubbed his temples. A migraine had started up, pounding his head. He wanted to wait out Juliette's talk with Winston. The more minutes passed by, he wondered if it was worth bothering. He stood in the sunroom feeling foolish and useless. Maybe Natasia was right about one thing. He was exhausted from trying so damn hard to fit in.
“I know that smoky twang anywhere. Where is my grand baby’s boo thing?”
The random question threw him for a loop, coming from the hallway outside. His brow furrowed and he hesitated to answer. Was he hearing things?
“Boo thing! Boo thing, where are you? I can’t see without my glasses.”
Preston rushed into the hall and discovered Gram Babes wandering door-to-door. She had her arms stretched ahead of her like a zombie. He appeared in front of her and asked if she’d like to take his arm.
“Would I? And feel those biceps of yours? Heck yes!” she cackled.
His bad mood faded if slightly and he guided her into the sunroom. “Why don’t you sit down? I can go look for your glasses.”
“You’re such a sweet boo thing. Or do you younging’s use just boo now? And what in the world is a bae?”
Another ding on his bad mood. He cracked half a grin at Juliette's spunky grandmother.
“Anyway,” she went on, settling comfortably in the wicker lounge chair, “why are you holed up by yourself? I heard your shout.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t blame you one bit!”
“You…don’t?”
“Now, again, keep in mind I’m in blind old bitty mode without my second pair of eyes,” she cautioned, “but I’m pretty sure that Williams girl was squawking at you, right? I say squawk ‘cuz that’s what we called women like her back in my day—birds.”
Preston stood shocked by Gram Babes’ candor. He wasn’t expecting her to insult Natasia.
“She’s been throwing anything at the wall that’ll stick all week. I caught her cornering Dom. She’s miserable is what it is. So she wants everybody else to be miserable too. I’m onto her.”
“The Brosman’s won’t fire her.”
“That’s even more suspicious. The girl’s scheming. I know that much.”
“You’re right. She is,” Preston agreed, glancing out the wide sunroom windows. “I just wish I knew what.”
“You invited me,” Winston said as soon as they were alone. “I tried calling you, but my number was blocked. I tried messaging you on Instapix, but I was blocked there too. I created a separate account and messaged you for days. Finally, you answered me. Why would you ask me to come see you if you’re going to pull a stunt like this?”
Juliette crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Please Winston. I never invited you.”
“You answered my message and asked me to come.”
“I haven’t logged on Instapix in days. Why would you think I wanted you here if I still had your number blocked?”
Winston fumbled to provide an answer. “Well…I guess I didn’t…I don’t…”
“Exactly. You don’t know. Because it’s another bullshit excuse from you. You always do this. You always manipulate the situation. But it’s my fault. I let you get away with shit like this for almost two years—the merry-go-round we were on. Break up, I start to move on, and here you come again to waste more of my time.”
“You think I’m lying but I’m not.”
“Then show me the message. The one you claim I sent you.”
Winston scratched his forehead, a classic habit of his when interrogated. “I…uh, I don’t have it.”
“Of course, you don’t. The message doesn’t exist.”
“It did exist! It was from you inviting me. How else would I find out the exact address? I delete my messages. You know that!”
“Oh, I know you do. Another classic fight of ours—your mysteriously vanishing text history.”
“I never cheated on you.”
“I don’t care anymore.” She laughed coldly. “Winston, go home. I don’t want you here. I didn’t invite you. We’re over for good this time. I promise.”
“So it is Brooker. Did you drop your panties for him before or after the invite?”
The dig was classic Winston, meant to knock her down a peg and steer the situation in his favor. He always sought the upper hand, too pompous to admit defeat. What he didn’t realize was that his bag of old tricks no longer worked. Juliette quirked a brow and smirked at him. Time to give him a taste of his own medicine and get cocky.
“That’s right. I fucked him. Actually, it was twenty minutes ago. Over there,” Juliette boasted, turning to point out the tiki hut in the distance. She loved seeing the shock unfold on his face, nostrils flaring. “And it was amazing. Better than any time with you. We were headed inside for another round. Any more details you’d like?”
Winston muttered a silent, “wow,” and then shook his head. His disbelief paralyzed him otherwise.
“Preston makes me happy. He’s my boyfriend and you’ll never be again. Are you going to leave or is Preston going to have to make good on his offer to throw your ass out?”
She walked Winston to the beach house front door in stiff silence. He held his mouth like a petulant child pouting after not getting his way. She wanted to laugh because it was typical Winston. He was used to being rewarded regardless of how foul and arrogant his behavior was. She opened the door for him to walk through and waited expectantly.
“I’m going,” Winston told her, stopping one last time for words. “I see traveled all this way for nothing. You are not the woman I thought you were. Now I’m grateful for dodging this bullet. I thought you were classy. I deserve a wife who is not a tramp—”
“GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!”
The roar was Dad. He’d been passing on the opposite end of the hall and heard Winston's bitter goodbye. Calm almost every day in his life, Juliette never saw him that immediately angry. Dad stormed toward them faster than a whirling tornado. His face screwed up in fury, glasses askew. Mom trotted in his wake, begging him to calm down and think about his heart.
“Get out of here!” Juliette shouted at Winston, now enraged herself. “Now, Winston!
Juliette shoved him past the threshold and slammed the door shut. Dad skidded to a stop, hitching his breaths and keeling halfway over. Mom came up his side and helped him keep steady on his feet.
“Dad, are you okay?”
“Your father can’t get worked up like that,” Mom answered for him. He was too breathless to speak. “You know that, Juliette. I wish you would’ve th
ought about that before inviting that person here.”
“I didn’t invite him!”
Her call went unanswered. Mom escorted Dad up the staircase, lecturing him about his condition and telling him it was time to rest for the night. She almost followed. She hated the unfinished business, but Dad’s health came first. Tomorrow morning she’d have to sit them down and come clean about everything.
“What is with all the yelling?”
Gigi and Mellie nosily wandered into the hall, emerging from the den. Her sister and her friend flanked Juliette on either side and asked if she was okay. Juliette nodded.
“I’m just glad he’s gone.”
“So that was Winston? A.K.A your real fiancé?” Gigi asked.
“There is no real fiancé. I’m not engaged.”
“But Preston…” Mellie shared a puzzled look with Gigi.
“We’re not engaged. We’re friends…who are now dating.”
“Hang on a sec,” Gigi said slowly, “you’re telling me I’m not the only one living a lie? You’re not engaged and I’m pregnant with a baby I’m prolly not keeping? Oh, Mom and Dad are gonna love this shit.”
“Gigi.”
The three women froze on the spot. Gigi most of her. Her baby sister swallowed so thickly it sounded as a gulp. She bit on the nail of her thumb, turning around to meet Dominic’s abrupt arrival.
“You’re pregnant?” he asked hushedly.
“Uh…” Gigi trailed off. She gnawed harder on her acrylic nail, biding time.
Dom couldn’t wait another second. “Gigi.”
“Yeah, I…I am. Surprise?”
A spectator to a new kind of drama unfolding, Juliette searched for how to help. She wanted to provide moral support for Gigi, but the moment was rife with awkward pauses. Then it hit her that the best way to help would be to give them space. Her gaze caught Mellie's and she tipped her head toward the staircase.
“Listen,” Juliette interjected, “Mellie and I are going to head upstairs. Why don’t you two go out on the terrace and talk? You’ll have privacy. Nobody’s out there.”
Gigi’s feet dragged toward Dom and Dom looked baffled. Together the couple disappeared down the hall. Stress pinched Juliette in her neck and she rolled her head, trying to ease the tension.
“I hope they make it,” said Mellie, sighing. “They have their problems, but I’ve never seen either happier than when they’re together. You too.”
“Me too?”
“When you’re with Preston. You said the engagement wasn’t real.”
“No…No it’s not.”
“But the relationship is, right?” Mellie asked.
Juliette smiled at her. “Right.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Who would’ve thought the saying was wrong? Forget diamonds. Exes are forever.”
The weak joke was Juliette's attempt at breaking the tension. Preston tried last second to sort out his thoughts and what he wanted to say for their inevitable talk. He had waited up for her like previous nights. Tonight he sat exhausted in the armchair by the window. Juliette had been gone for over an hour. The steamy passion once alive between them was long gone, ruined by the earlier events. It was hard to believe that two hours ago he had Juliette up against a wall, showing her firsthand the extent of his affection.
“Are you mad?”
“No,” he answered. “Not with you. With myself.”
Juliette frowned and crossed the room. “Preston, what are you talking about?”
“I didn’t like you talking to him.”
“Winston? I told him we’re over. I told him to leave.”
“Yeah, I know. Rationally…I do,” Preston said, laboring a sigh. He raked his fingers through his brown waves, messing his hair. “But I guess I didn’t realize how unsure I was ‘bout us. How quickly I think I’ll be left in the dust.”
“You’re worrying me. Explain.”
“A part of me…wondered if…” he paused to swallow. “If maybe I was the rebound guy. If Winston showing up with some grand reentrance in your life would change your mind ‘bout us. That maybe you’d take him back. You’d choose him over me.”
“Preston.” Juliette slid into his lap, turning his scruffy cheek so that he was looking her in the eye. “You make me happier than Winston ever did. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend. It’s nowhere near a contest. I choose you. Any day of the week.”
She dropped a soft kiss on his lips. Preston reveled in the soft plush feel of them, arm curling to grip her by the hip. He wanted the conversation to end there, but it’d be disingenuous. Deep down he’d known Juliette wouldn’t hurt him like that. She cared about him as much as he did her and he trusted her. His own insecurity was the problem.
“I hate that I do it. Every time. I make myself believe I’m misunderstood. That I’m meant to be some loner. It needs to stop,” he confessed. “I can’t give you the relationship you deserve if I’m always in my head thinking ‘bout how I’m gonna screw it up ‘cuz I’m supposed to be alone.”
“Just be yourself. Preston Brooker—that’s who I’m falling for.”
“Yeah?”
Juliette stroked the stubble on his chin and her tone was playful. “Yeah. He’s pretty okay.”
“Glad to know I have the prosecution’s approval.”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Make love to me.”
There was a fire flickering in Juliette's eyes again. That same flame from earlier in the tiki hut. Preston grinned at her simple but wonderful request. He slid his arms under her, scooping her up and rising to his feet.
“Yanno, that bed has been calling our name for days.”
Juliette giggled as he carried her over and tossed her onto the bed. In another millisecond he swooped in, covering her with his length, and bombarding her with kisses.
It was going to be a long night…
13
The next morning, Juliette asked Mom and Dad to breakfast with Preston. Last night they’d gone to bed without sitting down for a talk. Mom complained about feeling faint and Dad’s chest pain caused concern. After abruptly kicking Winston out of the beach house, Dad had his fill. He clutched his heart and disappeared upstairs alongside Mom.
The air needed to be cleared. The truth and the lies needed to be separated. The recent distrust hopefully dispelled. She wanted to not only come clean, she wanted to salvage the bond forged between Preston and her parents. He had won their approval so easily that last night’s messiness stung that much more.
Mom and Dad had begun to think of Preston as more than Juliette's fiancé—they had considered him as part of the family. Now his entire identity hung as an unsolved mystery. The pleasant interactions too. Mom gushed over his polite, thoughtful behavior. Dad saw him as a potential buddy. If the engagement was fake, what else about Preston Brooker was?
Preston hesitated about the breakfast. His orphaned childhood influenced his beliefs about family. Used to disregard from his cold-shouldered Aunt and Uncle, he preferred to leave the situation alone. He insisted it was too late. The damage was done and he understood they wouldn’t want him anywhere near their daughter.
Juliette insisted that was far from the truth. And even if they’d forever lost Mom and Dad’s approval, it didn’t matter. She cared about Preston and wanted to be with him. In her eyes, that was all that mattered. Mom and Dad would either get over it or wind up sorely disappointed.
Seated at the breakfast table, Juliette grabbed Preston's hand. The move conveyed the desired level of their unbreakable solidarity. Preston's posture loosened some, the nerves letting up. He expressed his own affirmation, bringing the back of her hand to his lips.
The quiet affection was the first sight greeting Mom and Dad upon entry. Mom looked flustered and found her seat. Dad’s round, flat features were still tight. His gaze severe, his mouth shaped in a censuring line, he gave a terse nod and sat down. Juliette's grip on Preston
's hand increased.
“Thanks for meeting us down here this early,” she said. “I know you went to bed later than usual.”
“Your father has a doctor’s appointment at nine. He’s…He’s having more issues than we expected.”
Juliette focused on Dad. “Are you feeling worse, Dad?”
“I’ve felt better.”
“Your father is under a lot of stress. Well, with the wedding and the…the upcoming surgery—and last night,” Mom clarified, rattling a worried breath.
“I’m sure you’ve figured out that’s what I want to talk about.”
“I was hoping for a quiet breakfast. There’s been too much racket around here lately,” Dad said in a rare fit of grumpy candor. He focused on filling his plate. The options that morning were healthy by Juliette's request. He had no choice but to pile melon, turkey bacon, egg whites and feta cheese onto his plate. He stuck his fork in a chunk of melon and used it to point out Preston. “Fake fiancé number two should be on a plane back by now. When is fake number one going home?”
Preston said nothing, but the subtle twitch on his brow revealed enough. He hated the blemish on his character, spotting the difference in how Dad referred to him now versus then.
“Preston isn’t fake.”
Mom frowned. “So you are engaged?”
“No,” Juliette answered, hand still holding onto Preston's. “But the truth is, we’re dating. He’s a great guy—exactly who he showed you to be this week—and he makes me happy.”
“Then who is Winston?”
“I didn’t expect the wedding so soon. It took me by surprise. I thought I had time. The Winston you met last night…he was my old fiancé, but we broke up weeks ago. I never told you. That’s my mistake,” Juliette explained to the table. “Mom, when you called me and told me about Dad’s surgery, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you I wasn’t engaged anymore. You wanted the wedding to be perfect for Gigi and Dad. I wanted that too.”
“You called her and told her about the surgery?” Dad glanced at Mom. His sour mood slipped away for a brief second of surprise.