***
The three-story house in Mill Basin, Brooklyn, had a stucco façade and was surrounded by a large, black, wrought-iron fence. It looked like something out of Beverly Hills stuck in the middle of New York. According to Juliette, her neighborhood was known for its Christmas-light displays during the winter months. Even though I’d lived in Brooklyn, I’d never spent too much time in this neck of the woods. To the average person, this would’ve seemed like a nice, wholesome home, but of course, I knew better.
Two luxury SUVs sat parked in the driveway out front. I assumed one of them was Vince’s, and it occurred to me that he might not be driving it again for a very long time. That thought was bittersweet. As relieved as I was to have him safely locked away, I’d always feel bad for Juliette. He was still her dad.
It was late, past midnight, but Frannie was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when she opened the solid mahogany door to greet us.
“There’s my baby!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around her daughter. Her nails were perfectly manicured and painted red. She winked at me as we entered. “Welcome, Wes. Hey, Tommy.”
I looked up at the winding staircase and crystal chandeliers as Frannie ushered us inside.
“It’s so good to see you, Mom,” Juliette said.
I took in a waft of Frannie’s strong perfume.
“How was the flight?” Frannie asked.
“Really rocky, butsoworth it.” Juliette grinned over at me.
So freaking worth it, indeed.
“It’s always worth it to see family, isn’t it?” Frannie sighed. “I don’t love to fly, but I don’t have to think twice about getting on that plane to see my beautiful girl across the country.”
I took in a whiff of something else in the air. Tomato sauce and a hint of coffee, maybe.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Frannie said as she led us through the house.
“It’s past midnight!” Juliette laughed.
“I know. But I figured you’d be hungry after that flight. And I drank a ton of coffee waiting up for you guys. Anyway, it’s never too late to eat. You can sleep in as long as you need to in the morning. You have nothing planned for tomorrow, right?”
Juliette shook her head, and Tommy rubbed his stomach. “I could eat.”
The only thing I craved tonight was a hot shower, followed by another round of amazing sex with Frannie’s daughter.
As Tommy retreated to the kitchen with Frannie, Juliette tugged my arm and showed me around. The more I saw of it, the more I realized this house looked exactly like I’d imagined, with leather furniture and shiny gold accents. The outside featured an in-ground pool and a large patio, and farther back on the property was a small pool house, where Juliette said her mother lived. The walls were lined with photos of Juliette at every stage of her life, and my heart nearly burst at the sight of mini-Juliette. It made me want a little girl with her someday.
We ended up in Juliette’s old bedroom. As we’d passed through the kitchen on our tour, Frannie had made it clear that she’d set up Juliette’s room for us—meaning Juliette and me. That proved her hiring me was a sham if she knew I’d most likely end up sleeping in the same bed as her daughter. But I was relieved to know I wouldn’t have to sleep apart from her tonight, especially after the taste of her I’d gotten in that airplane bathroom.
Juliette’s room was exactly as I might have imagined it: pink and frilly and fit for a mafia princess. It didn’t match her style now, of course, but it screamed teenage queen. And everything remained untouched from a decade ago.
“Welcome to my time capsule,” she said.
I lay back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. “Glow-in-the-dark stars…nice.”
“I used to love to look up at those before going to sleep, mostly while wishing for a different life. I know that sounds terrible because I was so privileged, but…”
“You have every right to have wanted something different,” I told her. “We can’t help what we wish for at night when no one else is around.”
She reached into the drawer next to the bed and took out several small journals.
“What’s all that?” I asked.
“This drawer is filled with my diaries. They’re from different stages of my life.”
Juliette opened a random one and read me some of the passages, many of which lamented the fact that her life had to revolve around Vince. Not much had changed in that respect. The one she’d chosen was one of the oldest, and she came upon a section where she’d written about the type of guy she hoped to meet someday.
“Don’t laugh, but listen to this,” she said. “I’ve started to figure out the kind of guy I want to end up with. He has to think I’m funny. He has to look at me like I’m the most delicious cannoli he’s ever seen. He has to text me all day. He has to stand up to my bully father. He has to like dogs. He has to have hair like a Disney prince. He has to be smart. I don’t care if he has money, because money only causes problems. So, to summarize, I want a poor Disney prince who looks at me like I am a cannoli. Thank you.”
