“So.” Gigi crossed her arms, a dignified power move. “You’re a designer now?”
The barb hit, striking through the heart, and Juliette curled into herself.
Her mother waved one hand through the air in an effortless motion. “You think you can just waltz back into our lives after seven years and act as though nothing has changed?”
“No.” Juliette shook her head and set the chalkboard down, stepping away from it. “Of course not.”
But isn’t that exactly what she had done? She returned to Mystic Cove after years without phone calls or messages, and she’d expected to find everything exactly the same, assuming nothing and no one had changed.
“You come back home. You barely speak to me. I give you a place to stay for as long as you need. Yet you rearrange my shop without my permission.” Gigi’s brow furrowed with disappointment. The corners of her mouth pulled down at the sides. “All of this, and you don’t even say thank you.”
“I’m sorry. I was only trying to help. I just wanted to be useful.” Juliette fumbled for the right words, but even though her mother was right, her need to defend herself was stronger. “Arguing with you like this is why I left home in the first place.”
Gigi stormed toward her, one slender finger pointed straight into the air. “Non. You left home because you did not want this life. And that is fine. But I will not have you come in and change it all just because you think it needs a freshdesign.”
She enunciated the final word.
Her mother was doing it again. Without even realizing it, she was doing it all over again. She was making Juliette feel as though her hopes and dreams were inferior, like they wereworthless, useless in pursuing. Because they were not the same as what Gigi wanted for her.
Juliette was trembling now and her heart pounded inside the constricted wall of her chest. She hated arguing with her mother. It was a one-sided battle, an uphill fight, and somehow Gigi always managed to have the high ground. It was a war Juliette could never win. She clenched her hands into fists, letting her nails bite into her palms in an effort to keep herself from shaking.
“You never liked the fact that I preferred interior design over floral design.”
“If you love it so much, then why are you here?” Gigi spread her arms wide, and the blue velvet scarf she wore draped around her like an ocean wave. “Why are you not an interior designer in Washington, D.C.? Why did you not make something of yourself while you had the chance?”
“You know why I’m here.” Juliette’s voice was hoarse, lacking the confidence she so desperately needed. Her eyes burned, the threat of tears on the edge of spilling over, and she furiously blinked them away. She would not cry in front of her mother. Not now. Not ever. “Rodrigo cheated on me. I had nowhere else to go.”
“You are here because you are scared.” Gigi tilted her head to one side as though she was truly seeing her daughter for the first time. She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “But I cannot stand here all night and argue with you. I have much to do. You needed a place to stay, so I gave you a place. You needed something to do, so I gave you something. I am sorry if none of these things are up to your standards.”
Juliette’s heart was torn into pieces. She wanted to stay at Mystic Florals because it had been a safe space for her. It was comfortable and familiar. She knew the rules, understood the purpose. Even if she didn’t like it, even if her mother wasoverbearing and controlling and oftentimes just plain rude, she thought it would still be okay. She thought she could manage, that the two of them could somehow avoid confrontation. But now she wasn’t so sure.
“Thank you for letting me stay here, above the flower shop.” She tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt and considered her next words with caution. “But I’ll find somewhere else to work. I think that might be better for both of us.”
Gigi bristled.
It could’ve been a play of the dim light casting shadows upon her mother’s face, but Juliette could’ve sworn she saw a brief reflection of hurt.
In an instant, she was swallowed by guilt. She could apologize for the blunt honesty, but she vaguely remembered hearing her mother say something along the lines of apologies being for the weak. Take them with a grain of salt and assume they’re never genuine.
It would sound harsh to anyone’s ears, but Georgina Laurent was known for never holding back. For saying exactly what she thought. For having her own mind and not being afraid to speak it when necessary.
Everyone respected her for it. Everyone feared her for it.
“Mama,” Juliette began, but her mother lifted one hand to silence her.
“Perhaps you are right.” She disappeared into the cooler, then came back with her clipboard in hand. “Bonsoir, Juliette.”
Alone in the shop and worried she’d ruined everything again, Juliette headed up the stairs to the apartment. Stripping off her clothing, she climbed into a faded pair of flannel pajamas, and turned off the music in the shop. Numb under a pile of blankets with the electric fireplace blazing, she tried not to think of the exchange with her mother.
But the words stuck in her mind. They took harbor in the darkest corner of her thoughts, tormenting her, and keeping sleep at bay.
If you love it so much, why are you here? Why did you not make something of yourself while you had the chance?
Hadn’t Rodrigo said something incredibly similar to her after she’d caught him cheating on her? Images of him filled her head almost instantly, coupled with a snapshot of their life spent together for the last seven years. He’d come to Mystic Cove on vacation to escape the city, and after two dates and one late-night walk on the beach, Rodrigo had swept Juliette off her feet. She’d been twenty-four at the time, resigned to working at the flower shop and taking care of her younger sisters, surviving on coffee and broken dreams. He made all of that fade away with promises of a better future, a better life.
Memories overwhelmed her, left her shaken and raw. Their romantic weekend getaways to the Shenandoah Mountains and their spell-binding nights spent under the dazzling lights of D.C. They did everything together—rooftop parties, galas, strolls along the Tidal Basin when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. And after all of them, after every magical moment, another whispered promise.
Slowly the moments bled into signs, into warnings she should’ve seen from a mile away, like unexpected late nights at the office and solo business trips. But perhaps her subconscious did its best to fool her. To persuade her. To make her believe things were still perfect. Yet time had blurred the edges of perfection.
