Juliette darted upstairs to the apartment and switched into her own clothing. She laid Brock’s sweatshirt and pajama pants aside while replays of last night filtered through her mind. The way his hands coasted and cruised over her skin, his kisses still thrilling her the way they had all those years ago. There was definitely something between them, a rekindled spark from their past. All the attraction and all the chemistry, it was as though it never faded away. Still there. Lingering. Waiting to be rediscovered.
Which was unfortunate because Juliette felt distinctly ripped in half. Part of her wanted to stay in Mystic Cove and give herself a fresh start. She had a good thing here. A job. A place to live. And she was finally on good terms with all of her sisters again. Granted, her mother was still a work in progress, but there was time for that. But that was her heart talking, her head claimed it made more sense to leave. If she put some distance between herself and the life she always knew, she’d be giving herself the chance to find something just for her. Leaving meant she wouldn’t have to deal with her mother every day, leaving meant forging her own path. A few weeks ago, she knew exactly what she wanted, but now the choice wasn’t so obvious anymore.
Juliette shook her head, clearing her mind. She would have to figure all of it out later because her mother and sisters were waiting for her downstairs.
She pulled on some jeans and a pair of boots, then tugged a purple sweater over her head. After brushing her teeth as fast as possible, she headed to the back of the shop.
Gigi was already laying out some of her finest, most prized flowers along the worktable. There were dozens of pure white roses, dahlias in a beautiful shade of blush, fully bloomed peonies, sprigs of lavender, and sprays of eucalyptus. Lilies were laid out individually due to their size, and Gigi even brought out one of her most treasured orchids.
They set to work cutting stems and arranging the blooms. Adrienne measured and cut yards of white satin ribbon, then shaped them into beautiful bows. Juliette and Gigi layered the flowers until every blossom seemed to overflow into the next. Together they worked in blissful, harmonious silence, already knowing what the other was thinking and imagining before it was done.
“You’ve always been exceptional at design,” Mama murmured.
The compliment was not wasted on Juliette, but it felt too much like bait. She was good at design, yes. Maybe even in her wildest dreams, she’d be brave enough to call herself exceptional. But Gigi’s motives were meant to coerce, to remind, to cause guilt. Juliette loved interior design, not floral design. And no matter how many times it was brought up or cautiously ignored, Gigi was still furious she hadn’t wanted any part of the flower business. She knew it pained her mother with frustration as well as disappointment. But it was Gigi’s dream, not her own.
She was saved from having to deliver a response when Anne-Sophie burst through the front door of the shop, causing the bell to clang obnoxiously.
“What’s all this?” Gigi asked as Anne-Sophie rushed toward them, her cheeks pink from the cold, her chest heaving.
“Charity Rhodes is marrying Rodrigo.” Anne-Sophie stole a panicked, apologetic glance at Juliette.
“It’s okay.” Juliette glanced down at the bundle of white roses in her hands, at the tiny cuts on her thumbs. “I found out last night.”
Gigi huffed. “He is of no more concern to Juliette. Why should she care if he is marrying another woman?”
Anne-Sophie tucked her hands into the pockets of her puffy coat. “Um, because he’s coming here. With her.”
Juliette bit down on her bottom lip. She’d forgotten about that part.
“Why is Rodrigo coming here?” Gigi’s sharp gaze narrowed in on her daughters.
“To check out Brock’s beach house,” Anne-Sophie offered. “As a wedding venue?”
Gigi blinked. Slowly.
Maybe it would have been best if Juliette had told her mother about the plans for the beach house sooner. Well, better late than never.
“Brock, Anders, and I have started renovating the old Gallagher beach house.” Juliette tucked a loose wisp of dark brown hair behind one ear and distracted herself from her mother’s pointed stare. “We plan to turn it into an exclusive boutique wedding venue.”
“Oh.” Gigi twirled the peony stem between her fingers. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Aidan, Brock’s dad, was trying to have the property bought out so he could build a strand of hotels and condominiums along the peninsula.” Juliette meticulously added the roses to the vase, one at a time. “We had to stop him.”
Gigi gasped. It may have been slightly extra and dramatic, but it worked for their mother. She clamped one hand over her heart and whispered something in French. “Mais non. That will not do. We don’t want Mystic Cove to become an extension of Virginia Beach.” Her nose wrinkled. “All those tourists.”
“Exactly.” At least Mama was on her side for this much of the story. “We were trying to think of a way to quickly save the beach house from demolition, while proving it can still be worthwhile and bring in money, yet preserve the beach at the same time. So, I came up with the idea of a wedding venue.”
“You did?”
“It’s a great idea too,” Vivianne added. “Adrienne is going to be the onsite photographer. I’ll head up the social media and marketing, and Sophie…well, she hasn’t agreed yet, but we’re hoping she’ll book the weddings.”
Anne-Sophie smiled but rolled her eyes to the ceiling. There was no doubt wedding planning wasn’t nearly as lucrative as whatever job she was working now.
Gigi added the peony to the sympathy arrangement, then fisted her hands on her hips. Her large jeweled rings caught the light and sparkled like rainbows across her knuckles. “You have it all planned out then?”
“Well, not all of it,” Adrienne admitted and ducked her head, sending a knowing look to Juliette.
Right. Now or never.
