“Nothing.” Everything. “Juliette is a grown woman. She can make her own choices.”
“Perhaps.” Gigi stalked toward him, and the cold air was suddenly perfumed with the scent of old florals and tobacco. “But such choices do not involve the likes of you.”
“You can’t control her,” Brock snapped back, but was careful to keep his voice under control. Conniving witch or not, he still knew to respect his elders, at least somewhat. In retrospect, he could have just called Juliette and avoided her motheraltogether, but it was too late now. He was already committed. Interactions with Gigi Laurent were often a game of chess, and she had him in check. “You tried that once and look what happened.”
“Yes. Mistakes were certainly made. But for now Juliette is back home, where she belongs.” A severe line etched across her forehead, and when she spoke again, it was with conviction. “Your relationship will only end in heartbreak, Brockton.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” The lie tasted acidic on his tongue. That relationship he so readily disregarded was the one thing he wanted more than anything else, especially after Anders told him to fix whatever was broken between them. “We’re just friends.”
“Ah. Friends. Such a peculiar term.” Disbelief and something resembling sarcasm dripped from her words. “Well, it is quite obvious she speaks to you more often than me, so…”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean to?—”
“You misunderstand me, Brockton. I do not want your pity.” Gigi’s head angled ever so slightly, and he could sense her studying him behind the protection of her darkly tinted glasses. “I am merely stating a fact.”
“Right.” The word was slow to form.
“Be careful. Be mindful of her heart. And yours.”
“Juliette is thirty-one. She’s not a child. She can make her own decisions and do whatever she wants. Be whatever she wants. Love whoever she wants.” A strange sensation took form in his chest, like a twisting wrench.
“She will leave you, Brockton.” It sounded like a warning. “Make no mistake.”
Gigi removed her sunglasses and focused her piercing gaze on him. It was a clear dismissal.
“Sure. Maybe she will.” But not today. Brock cleared his throat and headed back to his truck. “Have a great evening.”
Again, she said nothing.
He climbed in his truck and sped away from the flower shop, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and what would ultimately become a disaster. Thirteen years ago he’d made a decision, a choice. It had been the most difficult one of his life, but he swore to himself at the time it was for the best. Yet now, he wasn’t so sure.
So many times regret slipped into his subconscious, and he wondered why he ever agreed. So many times, he hated himself for walking away without looking back. So many times he wondered what could have been.
More recently, with Juliette’s return, his mind wandered into far more dangerous territory.
The possibility of what if…
But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The past was merely history, and nothing more. It was irreversible. Unchangeable. He’d stepped back once before, and he’d do it again. He wouldn’t stand in Juliette’s way. Whether she wanted to leave or stay, the choice would essentially be hers.
And he would keep his deal with Gigi.
He would keep his secret.
Brock wouldn’t tell Juliette the reason he left for boot camp and never wrote to her, never called her, never came back for her, was because Gigi told him to stay away.
He would never be good enough for her.
CHAPTER 15
Juliette was ready for a night out, even if it was low-key and local.
Vivianne mentioned a make-your-own pottery class over at Erin’s studio, which sounded like something she’d love to do anyway, but was made even better by the fact that her sisters would be there too. Granted, Juliette would have to carefully navigate the dangerous waters of tension between herself and Anne-Sophie, but she was willing to take the first step in mending their shaky relationship.
Bundled up in her coat, she dipped her chin and headed out into the cold to meet her sisters at Lovely Mud. Mama had agreed to lock up the shop behind her, but their conversation had been fleeting as they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Again. Juliette was certain the only reason her mother even volunteered to close was because she knew Vivianne, Adrienne, and Anne-Sophie were also going. So, Juliette offered a small wave without really saying goodbye and walked the few blocks down to Lovely Mud.
She ignored the way the wind sliced through her leggings and tossed her ponytail in front of her face. She was seconds awayfrom stepping into the pottery shop, and into the embrace of warmth, when her cell phone blared to life.
Juliette hesitated. Surely whoever was calling her could wait, but curiosity got the best of her. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and saw Gabrielle’s picture illuminating the screen.
