“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I wanted to see you today too.” she declares, smiling and walks off.
This could be a teachable moment—I could easily cry happy tears from her words.
Later, I have to remember to tell Harrison what an excellent job he’s doing with her. She is always kind and thoughtful, helping other kids in class.
Turning around, I gasp out loud startled by the beautiful man in the perfectly tailored suit and tie I picked out this morning standing in front of me.
“Oh, hi.” I smile, trying to act cool. I wasn’t expecting to see Harrison again today.
I thought I’d meet this Uncle Sebby, who I assume is Sebastian, the one who’s not supposed to know I exist.
“Bonjour, ma belle Jules,” he says through a smirk. “How’s my girl’s day going?”
My heart and insides somersault at his words, but I quickly remember that I’m in fact, not his girl. “I’m Fine.”
His brows furrow. “What’s that look for?”
Shrugging, I say, “No reason.”
“Juliette. I don’t have time for games. I came to see you, and now you’re giving me the fucking shrug off.”
I know I am.
“Watch your mouth here,” I chastise.
“Explain what the attitude’s about.” He crosses his arms.
I step closer and lower my voice. “In the bedroom, I can be yours, but that’s the only place I’m your girl.”
“You’re not my girl?” he challenges with a deathly tone. “So it’ll be okay if I ask Melody’s mom out for dinner tonight?”
What the hell.
He wouldn’t.
I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm my nerves. “Don’t be a dick, Harrison.”
“Well, don’t say dumb fucking shit, Juliette,” he snaps.
“Juliette, my love,” Mom calls as she walks out from the back, and I freeze, realizing Harrison is about to meet my mom.
Holy crap.
He knows exactly what’s going on through my head right now, so he plasters the widest, fakest smile on his face as she walks over.
“Oh, hello.” She stumbles, her eyes widening when she takes in all six-foot-four of Harrison.
Way to be cool, Mom.
“Inès!” Claud jumps out of her seat to come to say hi.
“Oh, there’s my favorite girl.” She picks up Claud and puts her on her hip like a baby.
I think my mom likes her better than me at times.
“Mom,” I whisper. “Other kids are here now. You can’t call her your favorite.”
