“Please don’t be mad, but I went to Daddy’s grave. I needed to feel close to him. I think the mix of my grief and the lack of communication with Harrison has made me begin to lose it.”
She pulls my ponytail, so I looked up at her. “Ow. What the heck?” I narrow my eyes. “Why are you smirking?”
“I visit your father all the time. Why would I be mad?”
I sit up in a rush. “You do what?” I ask in disbelief. “I always tell you when I go, except this one time. Why would you keep that from me?”
“Because look what it’s done to you. Am I sad? Am I depressed? Yes, I lost the love of my life, and I will never love again. But when I visit his grave, I leave it there. Otherwise, I’d never move on with life. I think of him every day. How you talk to him often, though, like he’s still here, would kill me slowly. We mourn in different ways, and every time we’ve ever gone to his grave, you regress into a deeper depression, and I don’t like seeing you like that. So stick with your talks at night, and I’ll visit him. What’s not okay is to sit here and cry for days on end.” She widens her eyes. “Do those words sound familiar?” she accuses, then stands up. “Come on.”
I stand up and throw my arms around my mom. “I love you.”
“I love you too, my love.” She hugs me tightly, then leans back and kisses my cheek.
“I’m sorry, we’re going to be so late.”
“I texted Daphne last night to cover for you. After you’re showered and dressed, we’ll stop down to make sure everything is okay, and then I’m taking my sweet daughter out to breakfast.”
Standing there, dumbfounded, I’m wondering who this person is and who has abducted my mother.
She walks out of my room, then turns back. “Chop, chop!”
“Are my eyes swollen?” I ask as my mom holds the bakery door open for me.
“Yes.”
The French, they don’t mince their words. “Thanks,” I mumble.
“Oh, there she is!” Alice calls.
I look up and freeze.
Oh no.
Today is not the day to mess with my emotions.
Harrison walks over, kisses Mom hello, and then turns toward me.
“Hi, beautiful.” His deep, familiar voice mutters as he leans down and kisses my cheek. Nothing slips by him, though, so the second he’s up close, he narrows his eyes in confusion while he stares at my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Allergies,” I lie.
His nostrils flair at my easy lie; he’s never been one to miss something about me, and he knows allergies are not what is causing my red face.
As I walk past him, the heat from his body trails behind me. “Juliette.”
Rounding the counter, I use it as a shield. “Did you need something, Harrison? I’m about to grab breakfast with my mom.”
His face falls, and then he shakes his head, hesitating momentarily. He might be taken aback by my stark tone, but today, I am on the brink and will break if he says anything nice to me or anything at all.
“No, I don’t need anything,” he says, though the hitch in his tone tells me differently.
Chancing a glimpse up at him, something I was attempting to avoid, not wanting to get sucked into his power over me, I see a different man standing in front of me than I’m used to.
Still perfectly put together in his dark, expensive suit, fitted to his muscular physique, but the dark circles and the beard stubble he typically only leaves for the weekend is telling me maybe he’s not okay either.
“H…” I whisper.
“Can I get a box of your favorites to bring to the office? It’s Lauren’s birthday.”
