“I don’t follow.” Rodrigo pulled back, blew lightly on his coffee, and took a small drink.
“If you hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t have left you when I did. Who knows, maybe I’d still be stuck in the city trying to find my way.” Juliette rubbed her hands on her jean-clad thighs, lifted one shoulder, then let it fall. “But being forced to come back here, to come back home, it’s helped me realize a lot of things. Mostly what I want.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “And what is it you want?”
She blew out a breath as a clear vision of her dreams, of her future, slipped into her mind. “My own interior design business. My own place. Maybe even a family.”
“You’ve always had an eye for design. I’m happy for you, Jules. Truly.”
Her heart felt a thousand times lighter, as though all the weight and unknowns it had been carrying were lifted. She gave him a small smile, relief filling her, because there was a time she thought she’d never be able to even look at him again. “No hard feelings?”
“None.” Rodrigo stood, then leaned toward her, dusting a friendly kiss on her cheek. “See you soon.”
“Looking forward to it,” and because she had to be brave, “and to finally meeting Charity.”
He grinned. “She’ll love you.”
Then he was gone.
Juliette settled against the hard wooden chair, unable to erase the smile from her face. For the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed as though peace had found her. She accepted the path her life had taken, accepted the new direction. She felt good about helping her ex-boyfriend with his upcoming wedding, and about her feelings toward Brock.
But more than anything, she felt better about staying in Mystic Cove.
For good.
CHAPTER 24
The morning service for Yaya was small and intimate, exactly as she would have wanted it. The skies stayed clear for her, brilliant blue and cloudless, and though it looked decently warm outside, there was a definite chill in the air.
Once the evening rolled around, Brock headed to the beach with Aidan, and as more stars came out, more people from Mystic Cove arrived for the bonfire. The blaze of orange crackled and shot sparks into the sky, and all around him, people he’d known since he was a boy arrived to celebrate the beauty of his grandmother’s life. There were picnic baskets situated on plaid blankets with full spreads of hot sandwiches, containers of steaming soup, and dishes of fruit. Even Miss Bobbie showed up with a table where she had thermoses filled with hot chocolate and bowls of mini marshmallows.
For Brock, the painful loss of Yaya was fresh, and the ache hadn’t quite gone away. He knew he should be grieving her, but once the fire was lit, a different kind of warmth filled him. And it was Juliette who captivated his attention. Throughout the celebration of Yaya’s life, his gaze was constantly drawn to her.He liked to think his grandmother would’ve approved of him finally making a move.
He wanted nothing more than to take Juliette into his arms and kiss her until there was no one else, until only the two of them were left, until only the two of them mattered. Today was about the memory of his grandmother, not about thinking like a teenage boy again, yet nothing could change his constant awareness of Juliette’s presence. She wore skinny black jeans with boots that came up over her knees. A puffy coat wrapped around her, keeping her curves disguised beneath layers of warmth. Her makeup was light. Her lips were a deep plum and she wore her hair down. All he could think about was running his hands through it the moment they were alone. Which, unfortunately, never happened.
Brock was constantly surrounded by people, and even when Juliette and her family approached him, their interaction was fleeting. Which was fine, because he wasn’t the best at handling condolences.
For a split second, when he had a moment alone, he considered snatching Juliette by the hand and running off with her toward one of the sand dunes as they’d done so often as kids. Beyond the rise of sand, they would be out of sight from any onlookers, and he could steal a few kisses before returning to the bonfire.
But just as he started to take the first few steps over to her, Miss Bobbie stepped directly into his path. She leaned in conspiratorially, her gaze shrewd, her face a deep raspberry shade from the cold. She sniffed once. “I saw Juliette earlier today.”
“That’s actually who I’m on my way to speak with now.” Brock tried to sidestep the kindhearted busybody. “If you’d excuse?—”
“She seemed rather preoccupied.” Miss Bobbie’s white eyebrows rose with suspicion.
“I’m sure she’s busy. She had a meeting with?—”
“Of course, it’s not my place to say, but if you ask me, she was looking awfully cozy with another man.”
That stopped him, gut-checking him to his core.
He glanced past Miss Bobbie to where Juliette stood on the opposite side of the bonfire, her face wide with a killer smile and her eyes bright. Firelight danced off her features, casting half of her in an ethereal glow and the rest in mysterious shadows.
There was no way Miss Bobbie’s information was correct.
“I’m sure it was nothing. Juliette knows plenty of people, and she’s only recently come back to town.” He attempted to slide past her. “She was probably just catching up with an old friend.”
“You were an old friend once too,” she huffed, then buried herself deeper into her peacock blue coat. “But all of that is beside the point. Seeing how you don’t seem to care about another man kissing her.”
