by Mila Nicks
Juliette looked around at the others. The fatigue seeped its way onto their faces. Their eyelids leadened, dowsed with sleepy desire, and they couldn’t tug their mouths into a sincere smile if they tried. Mom’s eyes were so puffy from hours of crying that she could hardly see a thing. Gram needed to break out her old cane for balance and Dom kept rubbing his face to stay awake. Gigi’s pregnancy discomfort had kicked in and she created a makeshift fan out of a hospital pamphlet, using it to waft air against her cheeks. Preston never complained. He remained dutifully by her side, but a glance at him, she saw the slight slump in his usually erect posture. As for her? Her feet ached from sole to the tip of her toes, so much so she questioned how long she’d be able to walk without needing a break.
Dad lay in his bed, comfortably checked into St. Rose Hospital, and scheduled for open-heart surgery tomorrow at one P.M. Nurse Sherry had given him a large dose of meds for the night. Now, as his family fussed over him, keeping his spirits as high as possible given his debilitated state, he slowly drifted off to sleep.
Mom wanted to stay. She dismissed Nurse Sherry’s suggestion they call it a night with a kind smile. “I’m alright here. I’ll sit down in one of those chairs and rest my eyes.”
“You’re not gonna sleep in a chair,” Gigi said straightaway. Her tone held a finality not often heard in her voice. Her pregnant exhaustion made her moodier than usual. “We’ve got rooms booked at the hotel across the street. We’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
“I can’t leave Tom Tom. Everyone go without me.”
Gigi looked at Juliette for the assist. Gram spoke up first.
“Brandy, it’ll do you no good to stay here. I know my son—he’d want you to get some rest. We don’t need you winding up in the hospital next.”
Mom reluctantly gave in. The six said their goodbyes to Dad, who had lost coherency minutes ago, mouth open with a dribble of drool as he dozed off. Outside the hospital room, the bright white lights of the hallway burned their retinas.
The hotel was a five minute walk. Luckily the front desk assigned them rooms on the same floor. The first room they passed belonged to Mom and Gram. Juliette put her arms around both, giving them goodnight hugs and kisses.
“Six A.M. downstairs in the lobby?” Mom asked, skin cold to the touch.
Juliette hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “Go to sleep, okay? We’ll be downstairs six sharp.”
The remaining four walked to Gigi and Dom’s room. The bride and groom stuck their card key into their door and it clicked open. Dom held out his hand to shake Preston's.
“Thanks for taking care of things today,” he said. “You did a lot more than I did as a man marrying into the family. I’m sure Tom will be proud. You really stepped up.”
“You had no idea what would happen. It’s too bad things turned out the way they did with the wedding and all,” Preston said.
Gigi leaned against the doorframe, overcome by exhaustion but also determined to speak her mind. “About that. Dom, we should probably figure something out.”
“It’s all turned into a mess,” he agreed, sighing.
“Goodnight you two. See you in the A.M.” Gigi hugged Juliette and gave Preston a tired smile. They retreated into their room for the night.
Preston and Juliette reached their hotel room last. She flicked on the light and he hung the ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign on the door handle. They undressed along the way toward the bed, untucking shirts and shimmying out of bottoms. He plopped down on the edge of the bed and ruffled his fingers through his hair.
“You shower first,” he told her.
“It’s your turn.”
“And I’m giving it up. Go ahead. It’s already midnight.”
Juliette's heart swelled at his never-ending thoughtfulness. He understood not only how exhausted she was but how Dad’s health scare took its toll on her. He snatched up any small gesture to make the night easier on her. Typical Preston.
She walked over to her suitcase to grab her things. “Or we can save time and shower together.”
“In that tiny shower?”
“We’re both exhausted. We’ll make it work.”
Preston conceded, rising to join her. At first they had technical difficulties, putting their brains together to figure out the weird shower controls. Once they got the hot water going, they hurried to strip down the last of their clothes and pile into the glass box.
“See, we fit,” Juliette said, directly under the stream.
“Sort of.” Preston stood flush against the now cloudy glass, fogged up by steam.
“We’ll take turns. People do it all the time when they’re running late.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t slip and break our necks.”
Juliette's exhaustion momentarily on the back burner, she smiled up at him. “At least we’ll break them together.”
Showering in the hotel bathroom was like a game of well-maneuvered Tetris. They lathered up and switched off under the hot water, cozily in close quarters. Preston worked her loofah across the length of her spine and she scratched shampoo into his scalp. She shared her body wash when he dropped his bar of soap and he laughed and joked about smelling girly.
“You’ll smell like me,” she teased, swinging her arms across his shoulders and kissing him. The steaming water poured over them, dozens of droplets sliding down their flush naked bodies. His lips were always warm and soft, but the water slicking itself over them added another blissful layer. Drowsiness swept in stronger than ever standing there lazily with Preston, warmed by the dedicated shower head. She sighed, arms now lowered around his waist, pressing her cheek into his chest.
The sigh represented two conflicting sides. On one hand, the contentment she felt alone with His presence alone gave her solace. The other hand was the underside she rarely showed anyone else. The stress of what Dad and the family were going through, and her unfettered fear that things wouldn’t be okay.
Preston sensed this in her. He held her, his hands pruning from the water, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s gonna be alright, Juliette. We’ll figure it out.”
She knew he was right. Deep down they would. She clenched shut her eyes and focused on the good side. The comfort casting a fuzzy warmth over her.
“We should get out. Our skin has more wrinkles than a ninety-nine-year-old.” Preston reached around her to turn off the faucet and he opened the shower door to grab their towels.
Fifteen minutes of nighttime prep later, Juliette pulled the covers on the queen-sized bed back. Preston asked her what temperature she wanted to set the thermostat and began dimming the lights in the room. The second Juliette's skin touched the cool sheets and fluffed pillow, she inhaled and swiped her tongue across her lips. Her aching body thanked her, refreshed by the shower and now coddled by the bed.
“You’re exhausted so I’ll make an exception. No pillow borders tonight. Rub those legs on me as much as you want.”
The clear mocking in Preston's twang and the blue-eyed wink he gave caught her off guard. She snorted out a laugh and shook her head. It was just like him to say something so ridiculous that it took her mind off what ailed her and made her feel better.
“You’re never going to stop giving me shit about that, will you?”
“Nope. The prosecution has no idea what the defense’s struggle’s been like.”
“Do you really expect me to feel sorry for you?”
Preston pulled her snug against him by the waist and kissed her cheek. “You don’t know the kinda duress I was under. You’re lucky you’re so damn amazing and I love you or else we might have to line those pillows up.”
He was playing, the two of them under the covers with the lights off except one. The jokey tune in his rasp told her he wasn’t serious. He was poking fun to keep her lighthearted and make her laugh. But when her gaze met his, she saw the kernel of truth in them. He wanted to uplift her spirits. More than that though, he wanted her to know he thought she was amazing.
He loved her.
“You love me,” Juliette repeated back to him in a gentle whisper.
“Is that alright?”
Her lips twitched into a small smile. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt.”
“Pretty sure I fell for you a long time ago,” he confessed, sliding his hand up the curve of her side. “But…guess this wedding made it a whole lot clearer. You know Wednesdays and Sundays are my favorite days of the week?
“Our wing dinner dates and walks in the park,” she laughed.
“Yep.”
“I used to reread our text conversations.”
His eyes lit up. “You did?”
“Sometimes. When Winston and I were fighting and when you were busy pulling long shifts with Vice and couldn’t talk. It cheered me up.”
“I…I never would’ve guessed.”
“I never would’ve told you, but now…”
“Things have changed between us.” Preston leaned forward for a chaste kiss on the lips.
Juliette didn’t close her eyes. She stared at Preston for a moment that wore on for four or five seconds, captivated by the tender and loving man beside her. The man she’d considered her loyalest friend through thick and thin, who she couldn’t imagine her life without, and who knew and understood her inside and out. Her brain shut off, going with the flow, and her heart spoke for once.
“Let’s get married.”
Preston's shock was instant. He was not expecting her proposal. His brows connected and confusion clouded in his eyes. She elaborated before he could ask any questions.
“I’m in love with you, Preston. We’ve been friends for years and I never realized it, but…you were always the one. You said it yourself. This wedding week has shown us what we were too blind to see before. I want it to be real,” she explained sincerely, touching his jaw with her left hand. The gorgeous Brooker heirloom on her finger gleamed in perfect timing under the dim hotel lights. The ring seemed to confirm as much as if animated with a mind of its own. They were meant to be together. “I want everything we pretended these past five days to be real. I want to wear your ring and take your name. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.”
Preston's hand eclipsed hers, taking hold of them and guiding it toward his lips. He pressed them against the back of her hands, lightly kissing her knuckles to show his commitment. “I never thought you’d be the one asking me to marry you,” he said in a low chuckle. “I love you, Jules. I’ll marry you any time, any place. Tell me when.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Are you kidding? I want you wearing that ring for real and Tank’s been needing a mama…”
Juliette's face scrunched with laughter. The funny part about his answer was that he was entirely serious. She cleared her throat and inhaled a brave breath, about to make her next suggestion.
“Then let’s elope. Tomorrow.”
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
Preston's smile brightened his face, slow to form but an earnest delight. He kissed her several times, tiny little pecks on the mouth, and then he said, “You mean to tell me in less than twenty-four hours you’ll be Mrs. Brooker?”
She nodded and he kissed her again, longer than ever.
“Tomorrow,” he confirmed.
Preston and Juliette fell asleep snuggled as one that night, dreaming about a happy tomorrow.
17
The next morning, Preston woke first. He checked the time, the red neon numbers 5:16 glaring back at him. In a curled heap by his side, Juliette lay fast asleep. She hadn’t taken up too much space in the bed last night, twisted up in the sheets. A groggy smile stretched onto his lips, framed by the thickening scruff on his face. He couldn’t believe this was only the beginning. This morning was the first morning of the rest of his life—a lifetime of mornings waking up to Juliette at his side.
He snuck to the bathroom. The door open a crack, he brushed his teeth and washed his face. His mind was racing. Last night’s conversation replayed in his head for the hundredth time in hours. He had told Juliette he loved her. She had asked him to elope. The surprising proposal was out of left field, but in the strangest way possible felt entirely right.
For over two years, he and Juliette had developed a tight knit friendship he cherished more than any other relationship in his life. The more he thought about it, the more he realized they’d been dating all along in some form. Their weekly rituals had them spending hours alone in each other’s company, often mistaken for a couple by strangers in public. Nervous laughter and glances at each other always followed, and they clarified to the waiter or passerby on the street. She had been in an on-and-off relationship with Winston and he had dated a woman or two, but somehow, at the end of the day, they always wound up together. The constant in each other’s lives no matter whatever else happened, good or bad, rain or shine.
His eyes sparked in the mirror’s reflection the more he thought about how obvious it was. Their cluelessness now amused him. Hindsight truly was 20/20 because the massive anvil-sized signs existed from day one. They had simply ignored them all.
“Preston.”
He tugged the bathroom door open wider, enough for a full view of the bed. Juliette sat up against the headboard, looking adorably drowsy minutes after waking. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked and squinted, tank top strap halfway down her shoulder and hair piled onto one side, half tucked underneath her scarf. He tried to fight the smile but it formed anyway, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.
“Morning. Sleep alright?”
She nodded, still too sleepy for complete sentences.
He chuckled and said, “I know we have to be down by six, but I didn’t want to wake you. Figured a couple extra minutes couldn’t hurt.”
“Thanks.” She paused for a couple beats and then broached the subject first on her mind. “About last night. I know we were tired and it was pillow talk, but…I was serious.”
“Me too. It’s all I’ve been thinking ‘bout since.” He broke out in a chuckle as she pushed aside the bedspread and came up from behind to kiss his cheek. Before he choked on his tooth brush he finished rinsing and turned off the faucet. Juliette joined him at his side and grabbed the tube of toothpaste and her own toothbrush.
Looking in the mirror at him, she said, “We should talk about what we expect and want out of our lives.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“You first.” She spoke muffled through her toothbrush, winking at him in typical Juliette level teasing.
He paid her back by running his fingers against her sides, eliciting a light laugh. Nevertheless, he agreed to go first and thought about what matter was important to discuss. His job as a Vice Detective came to mind.
“You know my career’s important to me. It’s a dangerous job. Some cop wives end up…widowed. There’s…there’s always that risk. Are you gonna be alright with that?”
Juliette rinsed with the faucet water and tucked her toothbrush into her toiletry bag. “Preston, I know your police work is your passion. You’ve explained why to me. I can’t lie and say I’m thrilled your life is at risk every day because I’m not. But that doesn’t change that I’m by your side no matter how dangerous your job is.”
“I shoulda known that’d be your answer. What ‘bout a family?” he asked, suddenly nervous. He plunged on anyway. “It’s something that’s complicated for me. I’ve told you plenty of times about my parents passing when I was young—spent my childhood living with my aunt and uncle. That wasn’t the best childhood. I’ve always wanted the family experience I missed out on. I’ve always wanted a family of my own.”
“Me too. For different reasons. You know all about my family now more than ever. I loved my upbringing and it’s what I want to give my kids. I want to nurture and care for them. I want them to have the happy childhood I had. Does that make sense?”
“It does. Ever thought ‘bout how many?”
She shrugge
d, thinking another second. “Two, maybe three.”
“Girl or boy?”
“Both,” she answered. She faced him and curled her arms around his neck. “One of each at least.”
“I’ve always wanted both too. I’d prefer the boy be older. I’d like him to look out for his sister.”
“You’re such a sap,” she teased. Their quick peck on the lips was minty fresh, mixed in with a giggle. “I don’t care what order. But I do want to stay with them for a year. I’ve thought about how that’ll affect my career, and I know it’ll take me longer to become D.A.”
“You’re okay with that? Putting your career on hold while we start a family?”
“For the first year or so of our child’s life? Yes. My career as a prosecutor is important to me too, but I’m only thirty. I’m already ahead of many my attorneys my age. I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll be more than okay. Knowing you you’ll wind up District Attorney straight away anyway. Be Winston's boss—and hell, mine too.”
She giggled in answer. “That could definitely happen. But are you ever going to let that grudge go?”
“The way he stormed in trying to ruin things? How he tried to manipulate you and then insulted you when that didn’t work? Nope.”
Her finger trailed the sculpt of his jawline, tone light with humor. “He’s a dick so I can’t say I feel bad for him.
“Can’t say I feel bad for Natasia. My wife has a mean right hook.”
They erupted into a shared laugh. From there they continued getting ready for the morning and carried on their chat about their soon-to-be married lives. By the time they left the hotel room hand-in-hand they had covered the important stuff, on the same wavelength for their lives together.
At the hospital, Dad was awake and in minimally better condition than yesterday. Juliette and the others arrived shortly after a meet up in the hotel lobby. Mom rushed to his side and ladled him with affection. Sweet murmurs rolled off her tongue, tears glistening anew in her eyes.
“Oh, Tom Tom. I couldn’t even sleep. I’ve been worried sick.” She kissed his cheek.