CHAPTER 1
The sky was barely awake with the faintest glow of dawn as Juliette Laurent drove along the weather-worn strip of road to Mystic Cove. The picturesque seaside town was nestled just south of Virginia Beach, past the lush greenery that kept tourists at bay, making it one of the area’s best-kept secrets. The pace of life was slow but vibrant, reminiscent of island time, and the long stretch of beach was constantly kissed by sapphire waves. It was cozy and quiet with just the right amount of Southern charm to make someone fall in love with it and never want to leave.
Mystic Cove was practically perfect.
And Juliette had sworn she’d never come back.
Her fingers strummed mindlessly on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as a low, shaking breath squeezed out of her tight lungs. Anxiety coasted through her as easily as the waves of the Atlantic soaked the sandy shore. The closer she got to her childhood home, the more she found herself overcome with a sense of inexplicable dread. Scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, Juliette turned off Shoreline Drive and pulled into the parking lot of Mystic Florals, her mother’s flower shop.
The storefront was a bit dated, the once bright blue shutters had faded to a stormy gray from the wear and tear of the salty breeze, but the sign swinging in the winter wind had recently received a fresh coat of paint.Mystic Floralswas painted in shimmering gold and set against a rich black background. Beneath the lettering was a bouquet bursting with dahlias, peonies, spray roses, and wild eucalyptus. And a bronze mermaid bound the cluster of flowers together.
Juliette turned off her car and sat there, silently debating whether she should simply leave right now or knock on the door with her dwindling shreds of confidence.
Seven years.
It had been seven years since she’d seen her mother and sisters. That was a long time to ignore the past, to pretend like everything was fine, to act like she was better off leaving Mystic Cove and her family behind.
Before Juliette could change her mind, she got out of her car and headed toward the front of the shop. The bitter January wind barreled into her, stinging her cheeks until tears pricked her eyes, and snuck past the wool of her coat. She felt the bite of its chill in her bones. The harsh breeze carried the scent of the sea—salt and heady florals—but it was also relentless and unforgiving.
Much like her mother.
Behind her, the sky was breaking. Gray winter clouds peeled back like old paint from a canvas to reveal shades of gold, pink, and violet. She bristled against another gust of cold air.
Another dawn.
Another beginning.
Another New Year.
She pulled her shoulders back and ignored the twisting knot of panic taking form in her stomach. Quickly, and before her nerves betrayed her, she knocked.
Juliette braced herself, steeled her spine in expectation of her mother’s pursed lips and shrewd gaze. But when the jade green door opened, she shivered against a ripple of surprise.
Her sister Adrienne stood before her.
She wore an oversized sweater the color of crushed plums, skinny black leggings, and boots that were a soft gray with matte buckles. Her dark brown hair was plaited in a loose braid that fell over one shoulder. Adrienne’s frosty green eyes narrowed before registering surprise. “Jules?”
She yanked the door open wide and pulled Juliette into the warmth of the flower shop, then right into the comfort of her arms.
“What are you doing here?” Adrienne’s voice pitched with excitement. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit!”
She eased back, and her gaze flicked to the wrought iron clock on the wall. “And the hour…”
Juliette sensed her mother the moment she entered the room. The tiny hairs along the back of her neck prickled, and the distinct sensation of being a constant disappointment fell like a weight across her shoulders. Georgina “Gigi” Laurent commanded attention without ever having to speak a word. She appeared in Juliette’s peripheral vision, slim and svelte in a black sweater dress with a high-neck collar—her signature look.
“Juliette?”
Her name rolled off her mother’s tongue, and Juliette found herself transported to another time. A time when the last words spoken between them weren’t full of hate and contempt. A time when blame was far easier to place and affection was easier to forget.
“Mama.” She dipped her head.
She’d seemed so sure of herself when she left home without a backward glance. Without a second thought. Without saying goodbye. Those first few weeks with Rodrigo were a whole newkind of freedom. Like climbing into a car and hitting the open road, driving for miles without a care and never bothering to look in the rearview mirror. The world had been hers for the taking, full of opportunity and adventure. She’d been on the precipice of following her heart, of making her own way, of finally living for herself.
Only to end up right where she started so many years ago, back at the beginning in that small town she so desperately wanted to escape. Except now her footing was uneven. Much like when she stood upon the sand at the beach and a wave swept over her ankles, pulling the sand with it. Leaving her off balance. Cautious and uncertain.
“What’s wrong?” Her mother approached her like a wounded bird. Her dark hair was threaded with strands of silver but pulled back neatly into a low chignon. Cat-eye glasses were perched on the tip of her slender nose, and her lips—always red—were pursed. “What’s wrong?”
Juliette rolled her lips. How did she explain that everything she owned was in the back of her car? That she was basically homeless and had nowhere else to go? How did she admit she was wrong?
