He joined her on the sidewalk, and she instantly took a step back to put some distance between them. “So, you just…”
“Came down early to check things out and see what’s changed.” Rodrigo shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, and the intensity of his stare caused her nerves to spike.
Juliette spread her arms wide. “Not much has, I’m afraid.”
“You have.” His warm gaze floated over her with a kind of fondness, like looking back on a photograph from another time. “The beach has always looked good on you.”
He was talking about the time when they first met, when he was an overworked lawyer climbing up the corporate ladder and came to Mystic Cove searching for respite. He found Juliette instead. For three weeks they spent every moment of every day together. Then, when it finally came time for him to head back to the city, back to real life, she went with him.
“Thanks.” She fiddled with the sleeves of her coat, wondering if he was remembering their sun-kissed days and moonlit nights. There was a heavy amount of unfinished business lingering between them.
“Hey, would you want to grab a coffee real quick?” He nodded toward Latte & Bean at the corner. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”
Juliette waited. She waited for the feeling of rightness to fill her, the way it used to do. The sensation of knowing she was with the right person, and wherever he was, she wanted to be there too. The spark, as some called it. It could be as insignificant as a wobble of the knees or the skip of a heartbeat. Sometimes it was more dramatic. Heart-stopping. Blood rushing. Other times it was subtle, a reminder of comfort, of home. She had that with Rodrigo once, or at least she thought she did. Maybe it had all been in her imagination. Maybe she’d been so desperate to find what she had with Brock, she thought she could find it with anyone.
Only one man caused her pulse to jump. Only one man made her feel like she could never quite catch her breath. And it was not the one standing before her.
“Sure.” She offered a friendly smile. She was freezing, and Rodrigo was just being friendly. This was good. This was normal. There was nothing between them anymore. “Coffee sounds great.”
Juliette would’ve preferred anywhere but Latte & Bean, but unfortunately there weren’t many coffee shop options available. Perhaps she should invest in one.
After ordering coffee and ignoring the rude comments from Evelyn, who was obviously still smitten with Brock, Juliette and Rod sat down at a small table toward the back of the shop. But even in the back corner, she couldn’t avoid Miss Bobbie’s shrewd gaze. That woman didn’t miss a thing.
“I wanted to apologize to you before we met at the wedding venue. I figured we had some air to clear between us.” He popped off the lid of his Americano, a double shot with one pump of caramel and a little cream. “It’s one of the main reasons I came to Mystic Cove early. I was hoping to find you and tell you I’m sorry.”
“You know, it’s fine.” She tried to brush off his concern. If anything, the mortification hurt the most. “We both made mistakes.”
“I was a crappy boyfriend.”
“Not in the beginning,” she countered.
“Thanks for that.” His smile was chastened. “But it still doesn’t excuse my behavior. You deserved better than what I gave you.”
“And you deserved better from me.”
Rodrigo’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted to get out of here so badly. I jumped at my first chance. I jumped at you, and everything you were and everything you offered, without having a real plan.” A sigh escaped her, pulled from the tightness of her lungs.
“I should’ve been there for you.” Rodrigo reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Emotionally.”
Juliette swore she could feel Miss Bobbie’s accusing gaze burning into her back. She shrugged off the intimidation. This was her conversation, her life.
“I should have made more of an effort.” She pulled her hand away. “Then maybe I would’ve been enough.”
Rodrigo’s face softened, his expression taking on that same forlorn look, like whenever he watched one of those sad animal commercials. He cupped her cheek with his palm, his skin smooth from years of white-collar work. “You were always enough.”
She held his gaze steady. “Just not for you.”
It wasn’t really a question, and his silence was the only answer she needed.
Juliette sat there, content with the fact that, after seven years together, she felt…nothing for him. No anger. No resentment. Certainly no love. Maybe she didn’t really know him as well as she thought.
“I want to thank you,” she said suddenly.
“For what?”
“For helping me find myself again.”
