4. Juliet

4

JULIET

I 'm wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever worn in my life. Layers of cloud-like chiffon and smooth silk are kissing my curves, and a frothy veil spills over my shoulders. I should feel like a princess right now—or, at the very least, I should feel like a bride.

But all I feel is a huge knot in my stomach.

"Oh, Juliet," says my mom, pressing a hand to her chest as she watches me walk out of the dressing room. "I know I've seen you in this dress before, but with the alterations, it's even more stunning. What a lovely silhouette for your figure."

I smile. "Thanks, Mom. It really is a gorgeous dress."

She tilts her head questioningly. "Is something wrong with it? You don't look as happy as I thought you would."

"Nothing's wrong with the dress. It's perfect."

"What is it, then?"

Despite myself, I feel my eyes well with tears. Damn it . I really, really don't want to have a breakdown in the middle of this bridal shop. "Can I get changed back into my clothes first, and then we'll talk?"

Ten minutes later, my mom and I are sitting at a coffee shop down the block. I haven't touched the latte sitting in front of me, nor the scone my mom bought for us to share.

"Tell me what's going on, honey," my mom says, frowning at me with concern.

My stomach hurts even more than it did in the bridal shop. It feels like if I don't tell her the truth, it's going to keep getting worse and worse.

"I don't think I can marry Eric," I blurt out.

My mom blinks at me. "What are you talking about?"

"He's a good guy. He has a lot of great qualities. But I don't love him."

"I see." Confusion washes over my mom's face. "Well, that's a shock to hear, Juliet. I thought you were happy with him."

"We get along perfectly fine. But we don't have any romantic chemistry."

This seems to confuse my mom even more. "Eric is a very good-looking young man."

"He is. I don't deny that. He and I just don't…click."

"Sometimes it takes time for attraction to develop."

My stomach sinks. I'm not entirely surprised that this is the reaction my mom is having to my admission, but I was hoping that this conversation would go differently. It feels like she isn't even listening to me.

"Mom, I don't think this is something that just needs time to develop."

"But you don't know that for sure." My mom reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Honey, I don't want to see you throw away your relationship because one part of it isn't as perfect as you want. Especially because…well, to be blunt, that magical spark you're looking for isn't even something that lasts."

That isn't what I want to hear. And it still feels like she's not listening to me. "So you think I should go through with the wedding, even though I'm not in love with him."

"Well—no, that's not what I'm saying." She collects her thoughts for a second. "Have you tried going on any romantic dates? Maybe if the two of you were a bit more purposeful about it…"

I can tell I'm getting nowhere with this conversation. "I guess we could try that."

"It could be exactly what the two of you need." She gives my hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry, honey, but I have to run. You're feeling a little better now, though, right?"

I'm not. I feel worse than I did before we talked. It's clear that I'm not going to get the support I need from her. For better or worse, this is a problem I'm going to have to figure out by myself.

After saying goodbye to my mom, I sit in my car for a while, at a loss of what to do. Should I text Eric and suggest a date night? I'm convinced it's not going to change anything between us, but maybe that's unfair of me to assume. Maybe we do just need to put in more effort. Sometimes it probably does take time for attraction to bloom.

But sometimes it doesn't , a little voice in my head reminds me. Remember how you felt around Shaw?

As if I could forget. As much as I've tried to force him out, Shaw has lodged a permanent place in my mind. I keep wondering what he's up to, and how his day is going. I keep thinking about the warm, swoony way he makes me feel. The other day, when we were sitting alone in his bakery, I could have stayed there talking to him for hours.

Which would have been entirely inappropriate, of course.

The sad part is that I doubt Eric would even care.

Swallowing, I grab my phone from my bag and type a text to Eric, suggesting a date night and hitting send before I can change my mind. My phone chimes as I'm driving home. I wait until I'm in my apartment before checking it, and sure enough, it's a reply from Eric.

Sure, I can make that work , his text reads. I'll pick you up at seven.

By a quarter to seven, I'm dressed for my date with Eric. I'm wearing the cutest dress I own—a black minidress that compliments my curves—and heels that will last at least ten blocks before they start making my feet hurt. My hair is curled and sprayed, my lips are red, and my eyeliner is as perfect as I can get it.

To my surprise, I'm actually feeling hopeful about our date.

Maybe it's just because I'm all dolled up and feeling pretty. Maybe it's something else. Whatever the reason, I'm feeling much more open-minded than I was earlier today.

Who knows. My mom could be right.

A few minutes before seven, I head out to wait in front of my apartment building. Eric is usually punctual, so I'm surprised when ten minutes pass by and he doesn't show up.

At a quarter after, with no sign of him in sight, I pull out my phone and call him.

He answers after one ring. "Hey. I'm so sorry. I totally forgot about our date."

That doesn't feel great, but I decide it's not worth dwelling on. Tonight is still full of potential. "That's okay. Will you be here soon?"

"Actually…" Eric sighs. "I really need to keep working on this project. Can we go out another night?"

I don't want to let him off the hook. But I can also imagine how the evening will go if I insist that we stick to our plans: Eric's mind will be elsewhere the entire time, and he'll be too distracted with thoughts of work to notice that I'm trying to connect with him.

"Okay," I say. "Yep. We can do that."

"Thanks for understanding. You're the best."

After Eric and I hang up, I look over at the reflection in my apartment building's front door. All dressed up with nowhere to go.

Although maybe that doesn't have to be true.

"Table for one?"

I'm standing just inside the entrance of a quaint little Italian restaurant, with a hostess waiting for me to answer. I can see the whole dining room from here, and it's full of couples. It's a really lovely atmosphere. Maybe too lovely.

"I think I'm going to go somewhere else, actually," I say, smiling apologetically at the hostess. "Thank you, though."

I squeeze past yet another couple waiting behind me and step back out onto the sidewalk. The straps of my heels dig into my feet as I walk up the block, looking for another option for the solo date I've decided to take myself on.

Tonight might not be turning out how I thought it would, but I refuse to let it all go to waste.

A few blocks further, my eyes land on a bar's chalkboard sidewalk sign that reads, Soup of the Day: Whiskey. I laugh and keep walking. But then, deciding that maybe a drink would do me good, I do a one-eighty and go back to the bar.

When I walk in, a bartender looks up and gives me a friendly nod hello. "Welcome in."

"Thanks." I smile back and look around the inside of the bar, considering where I should sit. My eyes skim past the occupied bar stools, then over to the booths…

…and that's when I see Shaw.

He's sitting in a booth across from an empty seat, a beer in front of him and his attention focused on the television mounted above the bar. There's nothing overtly sexy about him, and yet the sight of him makes every inch of my body turn warm.

As if he senses me watching him, his eyes pull away from the television and trail over to me. My heart stutters as our eyes meet. I can't help the smile that lifts the corners of my mouth. Like a moth to a flame, I'm drawn to him, unable to stop myself from walking up to him.

As I approach, Shaw's eyes fall to my dress, but then quickly snap back up to my gaze.

"Juliet." He clears his throat. "Hi."

"Hi, Shaw. How are you?"

"I'm fine. It's nice to see you. Are you meeting someone here?"

I shake my head. "I was supposed to go out with my fiancé tonight. But he ended up having to work. I was going to eat dinner on my own, but I saw the chalkboard sign and came in here instead."

"Yeah, they always have a good sign out front." He glances over his shoulder at the crowded bar, then nods his chin toward the empty side of his booth. "You're welcome to join me."

I hesitate—not because I don't want to, but because I want to a little too much. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all."

I give into the temptation and slide into the seat across from him. A server immediately comes over to take my order. I order a gin and tonic, which seems to amuse Shaw.

"What?" I ask, smiling at him.

Shaw shakes his head. "I guess I didn't take you for a gin and tonic girl."

"What did you expect me to order? Something pink and frothy?"

"Hey, don't knock pink and frothy drinks. They can be damn tasty."

I give his beer a meaningful glance. "Why aren't you drinking one, then?"

"Eh. It's more of a beer night," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "Tomorrow, though, I'll be drinking nothing but pink froth."

I bite back a laugh as our server swings by our booth with my drink. The first sip is wonderfully refreshing.

"Fun fact about gin," I say to Shaw. "You can actually make a simplified version of it at home. It's essentially just vodka infused with juniper berries and other botanicals."

Shaw's eyebrows arch. "And you know this from experience?"

"Oh, no, I've never done it myself. But I read about it in one of the books at the bookstore I work at. Cool, though, right?"

"I had no idea." Shaw gives me another one of those subtly sexy smiles of his. "So is that what you do all day? Pretend to work while you're actually just reading the books you're supposed to be selling?"

I scoff. "No. I do my job."

"I'm only teasing. I'm sure you work very hard." He thinks for a moment. "Let me guess. Alleycat Books? Is that where you work?"

"Yep. That's the one."

"I've walked by it. Seems like a nice shop."

"It is. If you ever need a book, you should come by."

"I will. Is that all you sell? Just books?"

" Just books? Shaw, there's no such thing as just books."

"My bad. Let me rephrase that. Is anything else sold there in addition to all those wonderful books?"

"Mmm. Good question. The answer is yes. We also carry calendars. And bookmarks. And reading pillows."

"Reading pillows?" he says with a laugh. "How's a reading pillow different than a regular pillow?"

"It's designed for back support. Some of them even have arms."

"A pillow with arms? That I've gotta see."

"You jest, but I would bet you a large sum of money that if you tried one, you'd love it."

"Something tells me I shouldn't take that bet."

"Smart man." I take another sip of my drink. "Mmm. I've gotta say, this is a really good gin and tonic."

"They've got a good selection of beers here, too."

"You're a regular here, I'm guessing?"

Shaw nods. "I've always liked this place. It's nothing fancy, but it's good."

"Fancy is overrated."

Shaw crooks an eyebrow. "I mean, I agree. But I'm a little surprised to hear you say that."

"Really? Why?"

He glances at the diamond on my hand. "You practically asked for a wedding cake with tiers all the way up to the ceiling."

I tsk my tongue. "You should be flattered that I liked all of your cakes so much."

"Believe me, I am."

The warmth in his smile sends a glittery feeling through me. Our gaze holds longer than it should. He's the one who breaks it, dropping his eyes to his beer as he lifts it to his lips.

"Did you decide what flavors you want?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No. Not yet. I'm still mulling it over."

"There's no rush. I was just curious. You're welcome to take your time. As we discussed, a wedding cake is a serious commitment."

His tone is lighthearted, but his words settle in my chest, weightier than they should be.

"Have you ever had a customer regret their decision?" I ask.

"You mean, they wish they'd chosen a different flavor of cake?"

I nod.

"Not that I'm aware of," he says thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. Is that a concern of yours? Regret?"

Suddenly it feels a little too obvious that I have more than cake on my mind. "No. Never mind. I'm sure it will be fine." Time to change the subject. "How's your little niece doing, by the way?"

Shaw looks at me curiously, undoubtedly thrown off by the sudden change of subject. But then he smiles and says, "She's good. Want to see a photo of her?"

I nod and watch as Shaw pulls out his phone.

Despite myself, there's something extremely attractive about Shaw being a proud uncle and showing off the photos of his niece. I lean in, our heads drawing closer together as I get a better look at his phone.

"Oh my gosh, those cheeks!" I say, cooing. "She's a doll."

"I know I'm biased, but I think so, too." He swipes the screen to show me another photo. Somehow she's even cuter in the next one.

"Okay, I need to stop looking at these photos. They're giving me major baby fever." I laugh as I say that, but when my eyes lift and meet Shaw's, a hot feeling blooms over my skin and I feel my face flush. Flustered, I sit back against my side of the booth and scramble for something else to talk about.

My eyes land on a poster pinned to the wall announcing an upcoming outdoor movie series. "Looks like that's starting soon. Do you think you'll go to any?"

Shaw's gaze slides over to scan the poster. "I've never even heard of most of those."

"Really? Some of these were really popular when they came out."

"I'm not really in the loop with stuff like that. Same goes for music. I have no idea what bands are big right now."

I suck in air between my teeth. "Please don't tell me you're one of those people who thinks all of today's music is garbage.'"

"Nah. I wouldn't say that."

"Good. Because some of it's fantastic."

He smiles. "I believe you."

Our server pauses on his way past our booth. "Can I get you guys another round?"

Shaw glances at me. I'm tempted— so tempted—to say yes. But I'm not sure I trust myself around this man with a second gin and tonic in my system. It already feels like I'm doing something inappropriate by sitting here with him.

"I really should get going, actually," I say.

Shaw nods and turns to our server. "Just the check, please. Thanks."

The server drops the check on our table, and Shaw pays for it with cash before I can even get my wallet out.

"Wait, Shaw—" I protest.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it."

"You didn't need to do that. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

When we leave the bar, Shaw holds the door open for me. I don't mean to, but my arm brushes against him as I step through the doorway, and our ever-so-brief moment of contact feels like a spark of electricity.

Outside, I'm grateful for the night air that cools my warm cheeks.

"Thanks for keeping me company," Shaw says, standing tall beside me.

God, he's like a big teddy bear. I bet he gives the best hugs.

I smile. "Ditto."

"Goodnight, Juliet."

"Goodnight."

As we go our separate ways, I feel the loss of his presence. But I try to shake it off, knowing it's pointless to dwell on that feeling. It was nice to spend time with Shaw, but that's all it can be.

Nice. Nothing more significant than that.

I get in my car and pull out onto the street. But instead of going home, I drive over to Eric's office. I don't know exactly what I'm going to say to him, but I know I need to talk to him. I can't keep living with this gnawing feeling in my chest.

Since it's after hours, the building is locked. I tap in the entry code that Eric shared with me when I brought him takeout a few weeks ago, and let myself into the quiet, empty building.

The tapping of my heels echoes as I make my way up to the third floor. As I approach Eric's office, I see a beam of light spilling out from beneath his closed door.

It's so him to keep his door closed even when he's the only one in the building.

I'm a little surprised when I hear the sound of Eric's voice. Especially because it doesn't sound the way he usually talks. Normally he's measured in his speech, each word carefully considered and spoken, but the obscured speech I just heard coming from his office sounded much more relaxed and unrestrained.

And then I hear the other voice. Another man speaking. And a low, sultry, almost drunk-sounding laugh.

I halt, immediately frozen still. Suddenly it feels like everything around me has just come into sharper focus. At once, I understand why there's never been any chemistry between the two of us.

I don't know what I feel more of: shock, betrayal, or humiliation that I didn't figure it out sooner.

I take a moment to let it all sink in. Blood pounds in my ears as I try to figure out what to do. Do I make my presence known? Do I confront him? Or do I leave and confront him about it later, under different circumstances?

Fuck.

I'm still struggling to make a decision when, for better or worse, it's made for me. Eric's office door pops open, and he walks out with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair a mess. He doesn't see me at first because he's looking over his shoulder toward his office, grinning.

"Two minutes," he's saying. "I swear it won't take longer than that."

Then he turns and sees me. Instantly, the smile falls off his face.

"I'm starting a timer!" the other man calls out jovially from inside Eric's office.

Eric stares at me, his face swept with panic. "What are you doing here, Juliet?"

I take a breath. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I—" He fumbles with his buttons, quickly doing them up. "This isn't what it looks like."

Anger sears through me. "Don't tell me you think I'm that dumb."

"Juliet, I—oh, fuck." He rubs his face. "I don't even know what to say."

"You could apologize for hiding who you were this whole time."

He continues to rub his face, looking extremely uncomfortable. "You're right. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

His apology doesn't really take away any of the sting. "Did you really think I'd never find out?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought…" He shrugs. "You seemed okay with the way things were. I thought it would continue that way after the wedding."

"That's why I came here to talk to you. I wasn't okay with it. I never was. I've spent the last few months trying to be okay with it, because I knew how much our parents wanted us to be together, but I can't pretend that it's okay anymore. And now I know there's truly no point in even trying."

Eric swallows hard. "Do you hate me?"

"No. I don't hate you. I'm mad at you, but I don't hate you."

"I never meant to hurt you," he says again.

"Well, you did." I press my tongue into the side of my cheek and look away, hot angry tears threatening my eyes. I wasn't in love with Eric, but that doesn't mean this isn't still painful. God, I feel like such a fool. I should have realized the truth sooner. At the very least, I should have valued myself more. I should have listened to my gut and done what I wanted instead of what others wanted me to do.

If I had, my life wouldn't be the upended mess that it is now.