“Might I have a word with you?”
This was it, he thought. This was the moment he would tell her off for ruining his chances with Juliette. This was when he would scold her for using his love for Juliette against him. He straightened, pulled his shoulders back, and lifted his chin.
Gigi took a deep inhale of her cigarette, and a stream of smoke swirled up in front of her. “I owe you an apology.”
Damn it. He couldn’t be unjustly rude and stand his ground if she was offering to make amends first. Brock knew better than to say anything, so instead he stood there, silent. Besides, Georgina Laurent rarely apologized, so when she did, it was one for the books.
“I should never have asked you to remove yourself from Juliette’s life. It was selfish of me and unfair to you.” An inhale of her cigarette. This one was slow and steady. “I realize this now, even though?—”
“It’s okay, Gigi. We…”
His words died on his tongue when she silenced him with a cutting look. If there was one thing the matriarch of the Laurents could not tolerate, it was being interrupted. Ducking his chin to his chest like a scolded youth, he tucked his hands behind his back. And though it could’ve been the long shadows playing tricks on his eyes, he could’ve sworn she smirked.
“I know I said you weren’t good enough for Juliette, and that you would end up like your father.” She looked past him to the street beyond. “For that, I am truly sorry.”
Brock waited a beat, and then two, to ensure she was done speaking. “I appreciate your apology, Gigi.”
She nodded, then took another puff of her cigarette. The smoke swirled up like a ribbon of white. “Marcel had left me, you see, both physically and emotionally. Gabrielle had left me. She’d gone off and married Jeremiah so quickly, I barely had time to catch my breath. Then he whisked her away to Hawaii and now to California. And after all of that, well, I couldn’t bear it if Juliette left too.”
And she’d left anyway. Rodrigo scooped her up before Brock had a chance to come back home.
He imagined he understood far better than Gigi thought possible. All his life, the people he loved had left him. He knew that fear well, related to it more than most. It caused a person to shut themselves off to others, to be wary of giving trust, to surround themselves with an impenetrable wall. One built with hardened stone, strong enough to keep everyone out, especially the ones who cared, just in case they decided to leave too. It seemed Gigi had done the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons.
But now, two people he loved, Juliette and his father, were back in his life. And he would do everything possible to keep them from leaving.
He blew out a low breath, and the cold air burned his lungs. “I know what you mean.”
“Of course you do.” Her eyes were gentle, their usual sternness subdued in favor of empathy. That was the Gigi he knew. The woman who never missed a beat and noticed everything.
“I have five daughters, and though I would not trade them for the world, I was never given a son.” She flicked the ash of her cigarette and canted her head, appraising him. “But if I had, I hope he would be like you. My apology will never be enough, but you must know I find you worthy of my daughter. You’re generous, good-hearted, and you have exceptional skills in construction and craftsmanship. Your father should be proud.”
Brock smiled, small and hesitant, while his heart lightened. Georgina Laurent approved of him. She thought he was good enough for Juliette.
“Can you promise me something, Brockton?” She put out her cigarette with the toe of her black boot.
“Yes.” He nodded once. “Of course.”
She stared up at him, unblinking. “Will you take good care of her?”
“Always,” Brock answered automatically, then took a small step forward. “Thank you, Gigi. Thank you for trusting me with Juliette. I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
“I know.” Gigi blinked once and then she smiled. A real, raw smile. It was rare and spectacular, illuminating the entirety of her face. Now he knew where Juliette inherited her beauty.
Her smile belonged to her mother.
CHAPTER 29
Juliette shivered as she sat on Brockton’s porch.
January was turning out to be rather bitter. The wind was frigid, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water. Even though her fingers were shoved into the pockets of her coat, they were terribly numb. She could kick herself for not asking Brock for a key. After all, they shared an office space, at least then she would be warm and waiting for him by the fireplace as opposed to sitting on a slab of frozen concrete. To make matters worse, he wasn’t answering his phone, but Anders had assured her he’d be there soon.
So she waited, bouncing her knees to keep herself warm. The minutes ticked by until the sky was inky blue and the stars were coming out. She was about to give up and go back to the apartment when a pair of headlights finally gleamed in the distance, and accompanying them was the low rumble of a truck.
She stood up just as he pulled into the drive and parked. Brock climbed out of the truck, slamming the door behind him, and headed straight for her.
“Jules.”
“Hey.” She clenched her jaw tight to keep from trembling.
