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She shrugs. “Why would I judge you for things that happened before I even knew you? Anyway, you’ve given me no reason to not trust you.”

I fall silent, her words striking me with humility as we reach the end of the long drive a few seconds later.

“I just need to go to the bathroom and grab the keys,” she says, leading the way up the front path. She opens the screen door and motions for me to follow her inside. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

I’m wildly hesitant at the notion. Still, I come inside, taking off my hat and stepping over the threshold like I’m allowed into the Cave of Wonders. She flips on the switch nearby, and light floods through the open front room and kitchen as I awkwardly remain in the entryway, closing the door behind me.

Juliet tosses her coat on the back of the sofa. “I’ll be just a minute,” she says over her shoulder, then she disappears down a side hallway, and I’m left alone to stare at her house—the mayor’s house.

The front room is clean with large sectionals and a modest fireplace. A blanket’s thrown on the chair nearest the fire, shoes are strewn across the landing, and a stack of letters are spread on the kitchen counter. The warm glow of the light Juliet had flicked on creates a comfortable environment, which is the exact opposite of what I imagined feeling here.

What I was expecting, I’m not sure. Something befitting of the mayor? Rigid. Cold. Pictureless. Windowless. But after the odd connection I discovered between me and him tonight, I guess what I imagined had been too harsh.

I take a few steps forward, eager to see what else I can discover, not for the mayor, but for Juliet. I want to find hints of her life here, if she’d colored on any walls as a kid or spilled tomato soup on the edge of a couch.

The fridge is covered in masses of photos, but I don’t dare walk that far into the house. Instead, I find a few framed on the mantel—teenage Juliet with the blonde hair holding a massive fish with her dad standing proudly in the background. One where the two of them are dressed up as pirates for what I assume was Halloween. Another of Mayor Monroe holding an infant Juliet in his arms in the hospital.

Then there’s one of her mom holding Juliet in a shoulder ride. They really do look like each other, but there’s more of Mr. Monroe in Juliet than she knows. The dark hair, the ears. But the blue eyes are definitely her mother’s.

A distinct sadness washes over me. There was a photo of Stetson holding his boy in the same way.

His wife forgave me when I was back in Texas. Told me it wasn’t my fault. I’ll still carry my decision to my grave, but time has helped ease the burden, if only to a degree.

Has it helped Mr. Monroe?

I stare at another picture of him and Juliet at her graduation, tears in his eyes as he stares emotionally in her direction.

My respect for him grows. He loves his daughter, and I can’t help but admire his efforts to keep his wife’s memory alive for them both.

Footsteps sound to my left, and Juliet stands still at the end of the hallway, her eyes calculating as she watches me.

“This is weird,” she says.

“What’s weird?”

“You. Standing in my house.”

I leave the photos behind and take a step toward her. “You invited me in.”

“Oh, I know. But it’s still weird.”

I chuckle. “Why?”

“Because I never thought I’d see you in here. Though I used to imagine you in here all the time.” She smiles wistfully, her eyes taking on a faraway look before she blinks, and a blush paints itself across her cheeks.

Archer

“You imagined me here?” I ask.

“Uh, once or twice.” Juliet tries to wave me toward the door. “We better get a move on before my dad gets here.”

“If he’s watching the movie, we still have at least a half hour. Plenty of time for you to tell me what exactly you were imagining.” She remains silent. “Pretty please?”

She chews her lower lip. I hold my hands together in a pleading gesture and give her my most charming grin before she rolls her eyes. “Fine. But it’s not really that big of a deal. I used to imagine you’d come over here to pick me up on dates. That’s all, really.”

But I know there’s more. I make my way toward her. “What else?”

Her blush deepens, and she rests her hand at the top of the black recliner as I move to stand behind it, too. She picks at a flaking piece of the leather and shrugs. “Nothing much.”