Chapter Thirty-One

· Thirty-One ·

Juliet

Will never came into town like he said he would yesterday. Never called. I waited up until my eyelids couldn’t stay open another second, hoping I’d hear from him.

I woke up to a phone whose screen had no new messages. No missed calls.

I’m freaking out. I’m trying not to, but I’m freaking out. At first, I told myself maybe he got a late start in the day. But then the hours rolled by. That’s when the hurt settled in. Had he forgotten? Had he decided to blow me off? I couldn’t believe that. Next came the worry. But I told myself, if something had happened to him, Christopher would have heard, would have told us.

I finally caved at 9 p.m. and texted him.

Juliet: I missed you today. What happened?

I waited and I waited. Until I couldn’t wait anymore, and I slept.

Now it’s morning, and I’m awake; the sun is shining, and while there’s no explanation for what’s going on with Will, I’m determined to compartmentalize and carry on.

Because today is a big day, the biggest day of the year besides Valentine’s Day for the Edgy Envelope—Sula’s stationery and paper shop—the big annual sale, and today, I’m helping out.

Examining myself in my reflection, I smooth my hands down my red skirt and force a smile as I say, “Hi! Welcome to the Edgy Envelope.”

I frown. “Too peppy. Warm and welcoming without being overbearing.” I blow out a breath, rolling back my shoulders, dusting off a piece of lint on my fuzzy pink sweater tank as I try again. “Hi. Welcome to the Edgy Envelope.”

Smiling, I nod once at my reflection, satisfied. “That’s better.”

“JuJu!” The door to the apartment swings open. Bea catches it before it bangs into the coat hooks, judging by the quiet that follows, only the soft click of the latch as she shuts it. It makes me miss Will, how he’d bang the door into the coat hooks every time he came in.

“JuJu?” my sister calls.

“Back here!” I yell.

Bea bounds down the hall, then stops at the threshold. A snort jumps out of her. “Oh boy. We did it again.”

I take in what she’s wearing and feel a laugh jump out of me. Bea’s wearing my outfit, but inverted. Her blouse is scarlet like my skirt. Her skirt is the same pale pink as my sweater. “Well, we ran a pretty high risk,” I tell her, “considering we were ordered by Sula to dress for the occasion.”

“That woman’s lucky I love her,” Bea mutters, sidling up to me in front of the mirror so she can inspect her reflection. “Giving me a dress code. These are not my normal colors.”

I smile at the rhinestone pink headband holding back Bea’s sideswept bangs, which she’s started growing out. “You in pink, BeeBee. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“The things I do for Sula,” she grumbles, adjusting her headband. Turning to me, she looks me over. “You look real pretty, JuJu. But…” She tips her head when her gaze lands on my face. “You okay?”

I swallow back the immediate threat of tears and force a wide smile. “I’m fine. Come on.” I grab my foldable cane off the closet door hook, just in case I need it, and take her hand in mine, dragging her out of the room. “We’re going to be late!”

—

“Welcome,” Sula says, marching across the lineup of employees like a general about to lead us into battle, “to the Edgy Envelope’s busiest retail day.”

Bea bites her lip.

I can’t look at her or I’ll break out in a grin, and this does not seem like a grinning moment.

“What you’re about to face,” Sula says, the gravity of her delivery somewhat undercut by the pink hearts bouncing like antennae from her red headband, “is people at their most desperate. They want to stock up on the perfect cards, snag the ideal necklace, the best box of chocolates, the prettiest flowers”—she gestures toward the stand of bouquets my mom started assembling from her greenhouse and selling to Sula last year—“because we’re going to charge them only sixty percent of what we normally do, and sales turn people into jungle animals. In short, they need your help both finding everything they want and remembering their higher angels. We cannot fail them.”

“No pressure,” Bea mutters.

I bite my cheek so I won’t laugh.

“Are you ready?” Sula asks.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Bea says, saluting her. “But, quick question—where’s Toni?”

“Bathroom,” Sula says. “He’ll be out any minute, I’m sure—holy shit .” Sula stares past us, her expression stricken.

Bea and I turn around and see exactly why Sula looks so upset. Toni stands just outside the bathroom. He looks terrible. He’s clutching his stomach, his complexion paper white. Actually, it’s a little green, too.

“I think…” he croaks, “that I’m sick.”

We all take an immediate step back.

Sula sighs. “You just spent twenty minutes in the bathroom and came out looking like a corpse, of course you’re sick.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers miserably.

“Honey,” Sula says, “you have nothing to apologize for. You’re sick. It happens.”

“I sent out an SOS to all the strapping guys I know,” he says, “so hopefully someone can come in and help you with moving inventory as you run out.”

We all give him a look.

“What?” he says defensively, standing taller. “I’m strapping.”

“I weigh two of you,” Sula says flatly.

“So I’m a wiry strapping,” Toni says. “I’m still the muscles of this operation.”

Sula rolls her eyes. “Of course you are, hon. Thank you for putting out an SOS. Now go home and get some rest.”

Toni looks like he’s going to cry. He opens his arms and walks toward Sula.

“I love you, Antoni,” Sula says, taking another step back, “but for the love of God, keep your pestilence to yourself. Off you go.”

Toni smiles faintly. “Okay, I will. I’m just gonna grab my bag—” His hand flies to his mouth. “Never mind, I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“Oof,” Bea mutters, turning toward me. “Poor Toni. Poor us. This is going to be rough.”

She’s right. For the next two hours, it is pretty rough. We’re slammed with patrons, Sula working the floor, Bea and I running the registers, Bea dropping off her register when we start to run low on cards, jewelry, and chocolate, then quickly restocking them.

When it seems like we might have a lull for the first time since we opened, I make my way to the storage closet. It’s dark and cozy in there, cool and quiet. I just need a minute to myself.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door of the storage closet. “Yes?” I ask.

Bea eases open the door, and Kate steps in behind her. “Hey, JuJu,” Bea says.

Kate shuts the door and smiles.

I glance between them. “What’s up? Why are you here?”

Bea’s presence makes sense, but not Kate’s. Kate’s not even working the sale today. She had a photography shoot booked this morning with a nonprofit devoted to preventing food insecurity, her photos slated to be used in a feature article. She couldn’t back out of that, even though we definitely could have used the help.

“Just wrapped up my shoot,” Kate says, “and a little birdie told me another little birdie was on the struggle bus.”

I frown at Bea. Bea doesn’t look sheepish or sorry at all. “I’ve known you since we were zygotes,” she says. “I can tell when you’re not okay, even if you say you are.”

“You didn’t know me when we were zygotes,” I grumble, leaning back against the wall and propping my feet up on a box. “We weren’t conscious beings at that point.”

“My point still stands.” Bea plops down on the floor beside me and clasps my hand. “You don’t have to tell us, but if you want to, we’re here.” She glances toward our sister as Kate eases onto a box labeled 4” x 6“ matte card stock and smiles encouragingly.

Kate then digs around in her cross-body bag and pulls out a small pastry box. “Or you can just sit here and eat your feelings.”

I hesitate for a second, then slowly reach for the box. “Maybe…I can do a little bit of both?”

Kate grins, whipping open the box. “That’s the spirit.”

—

Bea’s mouth hangs open with her dark chocolate cupcake, her expression shocked. Kate’s got cream cheese frosting on her nose from startling so badly at my news, right when she was about to bite into her pumpkin cupcake.

“Wait.” Bea chews twice, then swallows what was clearly still an uncomfortably large bite. “So you and Will have been romantic for weeks?”

“Practicing romance,” I emphasize.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that,” Kate says weakly.

I tell my sisters about Will’s and my plan, hatched in Christopher’s backyard, the practice dates, the flirty texts, the idea I had to incorporate him into our friend group to avoid raising suspicion.

“But then…practicing,” I say quietly, staring down at my hands, “it…stopped feeling like practice. It felt…”

“Real,” Bea says gently.

I glance up, meeting her eyes, searching them. “Yeah.”

Bea smiles and pats my hand. “I have some experience with how the lines between rehearsing and reality can blur when you’re pretending with someone.”

“You do?”

Bea squints an eye and tips her head from side to side. “Yeah,” she says sheepishly, glancing between Kate and me. “Jamie and I, when we were first”—she makes air quotes—“?‘dating,’ we weren’t really. We were faking it.”

My mouth falls open. “You what ?”

Kate kicks her feet in the air, squealing delightedly. “What a turn ! I did not see that coming!”

“Well,” Bea says, meeting my eyes, “I mean, you and the douche waffle and the friend group were all up in our business, trying to pair us up when we did not want to be paired up, so we decided we’d fake date and get you all super invested in us, then break up in epic fashion and crush your hopes, teach you a lesson about meddling.”

“Jesus, BeeBee.” I blink, stunned. “I…Wow. I never picked up on it being fake. I didn’t even catch a whiff of a performance.”

“That’s because,” she says, a smile lifting her mouth, “it really wasn’t, at least, not for long. Of course, at first it was, but we quickly figured out we were going to be garbage at passing as a couple unless we spent some time together and got to know each other well enough to pass as a believable couple. So we started hanging out, talking, trying to understand each other, and…we ended up falling for each other.”

A disbelieving smile breaks across my face. “You fell in love while pretending to love each other.”

She nods. “Yeah, we did. I mean, we hit a bit of a bump in the road, of course—”

“Because of him.” I refuse to even say my ex’s name. We all know whom I’m talking about. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach. “That’s why you broke up, wasn’t it?”

“Took a break ,” Bea corrects. “It was just a break !”

“But you did it for me, you jerk!” I grab her shoulders. “How could you do that? Because you thought I’d have a fit when I saw you with Jamie? You didn’t think I’d be able to be happy for you and compartmentalize the fact that my shitty ex had been Jamie’s friend? I mean, Bea, Jamie loathed him, kicked him out of his life for good, after what he did. Sure, I would have probably needed some time, but that was mine to take, not yours to force on us.”

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Bea says briskly, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “I realize it probably wasn’t a super-well-thought-out response, and I apologized to Jamie and he forgave me, and we made it through, because here we are, planning to get married. The point is,” she says, holding my eyes, “I think I understand what happened with Will. What I don’t understand is why you’re sad.”

I stare into my twin’s eyes, seeing all her love, her empathy. Tears blur my vision.

“Ooh, no, no,” Bea whispers, swiftly wiping under my eyes. “Applying makeup is a Herculean effort for you these days. Let’s not have to do a repeat. We both know you hate how I do your makeup when I try.”

I laugh tearily, falling into her shoulder.

Kate stretches out her legs, her face drawn as she watches me. She pins my feet between her boots and squeezes affectionately.

I glance between my sisters. “We finally turned the corner, last weekend, from friends to…”

“Lovers?” Kate asks gently.

I nod. “And he was really busy all week, which I got. They’re gearing up for this big festival and a huge tourism influx for the eclipse tomorrow, and I didn’t mind, but then he was supposed to come into town yesterday, because…because he couldn’t wait another day, and he didn’t.”

“Did he have an explanation?” Kate asks.

I shake my head. “I never even heard from him.”

Bea frowns. “That doesn’t seem like sweet Will.”

“No,” I mutter miserably, my head slumped on her shoulder.

“Christopher would have heard,” Kate says, “if he ran into some kind of trouble.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself, too.”

“Then what’s going on?” Bea asks, her brow furrowing even more. “It doesn’t add up.”

“It doesn’t,” I agree. “And that’s the thing—whatever caused him not to show up yesterday, whatever’s kept him from reaching out to me and explaining himself, that’s not what I’m freaking out about, not primarily.”

Kate peers down at me. “You’re freaking out that you care so much.”

I nod. “And not just that I care, that I’m assuming the best of him. And this is…exactly what I was afraid of happening!”

“What do you mean, JuJu?” Bea asks softly, her hand going to my hair, combing its stray pieces back from my face. I had the silly idea to pin it up and make it look fancy, but in the hours I worked my tail off, it’s just fallen out of those pins.

“Look at what I’ve done.” I lift my thumb. “I’ve told myself I wouldn’t get mixed up with one of Christopher’s friends again, and what do I do? I get myself all turned around for one of his dearest, oldest friends.” I lift my pointer. “I told myself I’d be more level-headed, that I wouldn’t always assume the best in someone, when I had feelings for them—here I am, even after he’s ghosted me for twenty-four hours, spinning up excuses for why he must not be at fault.” I lift my middle finger, which feels appropriate. “We’ve been hanging out for barely a month, not even half those days spent in person, and I’ve gone and fallen in lo—” I clear my throat. “And I’ve fallen for him, so quickly. I’ve fallen quickly before, and look how that toxic terrible mess turned out the last time I fell fast and hard—toxic and terrible!”

“Hey.” Bea pats my shoulder. “Take a deep breath.” She glances over at Kate. “And listen to us. You know I’ve had a bad breakup before, that I understand wanting to protect your heart after someone’s bruised it. But just because something was bad with one person doesn’t mean it will be bad with another. Jules, you have such a big, open heart, doesn’t it make sense that when your heart recognized someone wonderful like Will, it fell head over heels? The fartface was the bad number in your equation last time, not you.”

I laugh. “Fartface.” My laugh becomes thick as I dab my eyes. “But I’m the common denominator!”

“Exactly,” Kate says, leaning in, clutching my shin. She holds my eyes intently. “You were the only good thing about your relationship with your ex. And now, you’ve got something that’s night and day from that. It’s got all your goodness and all his goodness, too.”

Bea nods in agreement.

I wipe my nose, sniffling. “I’m so scared of this. How much I feel, how much I…” A heavy sigh leaves me. “I’m just…scared.”

Kate nods, gently squeezing my ankle as she sits up again. “If I have learned anything since I came home last year, since Christopher and I finally figured out what we mean to each other, it’s this: you can’t outrun your feelings, especially your fear. You can deny them, suppress them, numb yourself to them. And sure, it makes you feel safer for a while, better even. But it doesn’t last. The feelings, they’re still there. And you either continue to hide them from others, hide yourself from others, too—which is so damn lonely. Trust me,” she adds. “Or…you can face those feelings and share them with the people who matter, so they can see you and support you, so you can feel so much less alone.”

I nod. “Thanks,” I tell both my sisters, glancing between them, blinking away tears, “for cornering me in a closet and making me feel my feelings.”

Bea kisses my temple. “You bet.”

“And for the cupcakes,” I add, nodding to the box.

Kate salutes. “What sisters are for.”

I smile between them, my heart lighter, unburdened. No, I’m not at peace. I’m anxious about Will still, and my heart feels fragile. But I am okay. I can make it through this.

Groaning, I ease onto all fours, then stand upright. “Well,” I tell Bea, “we should probably get back, make sure we haven’t left Sula high and dry. But first, I need to go fix my hair in the bathroom real quick.” I feel around at it, half out. “It’s a mess.”

Bea stands up, too, dusting off her skirt. “I’ll head back and help. You take your time in the bathroom.”

Kate’s phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and frowns as she reads it. Then her expression blanks. She pockets her phone. “Actually”—she clears her throat—“maybe not the bathroom.”

She glances toward Bea. Bea frowns, her eyes darting between Kate’s. She checks her phone, which has started buzzing, too. Her eyes widen.

“Am I missing something?” I ask. I left my phone behind the desk. “Please tell me Toni isn’t sharing his puke live updates still.”

Bea pockets her phone. “Speaking of that…Toni, well, let’s just say what he did to that bathroom is not something you want to see, JuJu. Sula gave it a good scrub and air freshener spray, but…” She shakes her head.

I shrug, starting toward the closet door. “Eh, I’ll hold my nose. I really need a mirror to fix my hair—”

Kate darts in front of the door, splayed against it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Jules. Sometimes the scars of gastrointestinal violence are no match even for industrial-strength cleansers.”

Bea gags behind me. “Too far,” she mutters.

I’m annoyed now. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I’m losing my patience and the pins in my hair are really starting to pull. “Okay, then. Where should I go fix my hair?”

Kate smiles as she steps aside. “I’d suggest heading to the delivery bay.”

“Fine,” I mutter, tugging open the door and turning left toward where our delivery trucks back in for us to unload inventory.

Bea calls out, “Sula’s got a great piece of scrap metal back there! Works like a charm, if you don’t mind looking like you’re half as tall and four times as wide.”

I roll my eyes, turning the corner into the bay, and come to a dead stop.

There’s Will, standing just inside the doorway, hair wild and windblown, wrinkled gray T-shirt, ripped old jeans, boots whose laces aren’t even tied. My gaze dances over his high cheekbones, that long nose with the bump at the bridge, those wide silver-sage cat eyes with their gilded russet lashes. The faint freckles scattered across his skin.

Our eyes meet and those butterflies take off.

“I forgot,” he says quietly, his eyes holding mine. “In all the chaos of the week, I completely forgot I told you I’d come down yesterday. I got so wrapped up with all that we’re doing, I totally forgot to tell you there was just no way I could get to you before today. When I remembered, I was going to call you, but then I realized I didn’t have my phone. And that is because Eleanor—”

“Your niece,” I say softly.

He pauses, like I’ve caught him off guard. “My niece, yes, she told me she might have accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet. As in, she did drop my phone in the toilet. She tends to sneak my phone when she’s at my parents’ and she’s gotta do a number two, because it takes her a while and she likes to watch Bluey episodes while she waits. Her moms don’t let her have their phones for that purpose, given the risk of it ending up…exactly where mine did.”

My hand comes to my mouth. I’m smiling like a goofball, but the relief, the joy of seeing him, the flat-out hilarity of this anecdote, it’s too much—I can’t help it.

“I didn’t have your number memorized—I have nobody ’s number memorized,” he goes on, “and even though I know I could have asked my mom to call your mom and get your number, I was afraid to do that, because we hadn’t talked about what you were comfortable with, who you wanted to know, and I know it’s been important to you to keep this private. I didn’t want to dismiss that just because I was worried you’d be pissed at me, which would be understandable, obviously—”

I bite my lip. I have never heard this man talk so much. And he’s still on a roll.

“Then I debated driving straight to you last night, but, Juliet, I was so tired I couldn’t even see straight, and I knew, if I got behind the wheel that tired and got myself in an accident on my way to see you—”

“I’d have throttled you,” I tell him, stepping closer, clasping his hand. “Because your safety is precious to me. You are precious to me.”

His eyes search mine. “I am? Even after I—”

I throw my arms around his neck and press my mouth to his, a long, firm kiss. His body relaxes; his arms wrap around my back, drawing me against him. “Even after,” I tell him. “And I hope…when I make my mistakes, you’ll feel the same way about me.”

He laughs softly, tucking his chin over my head. “Baby, I couldn’t feel any other way if I tried.”

I set my head against his chest, listening to his beating heart, and smile. “I know the feeling.”