Page 91 of Tempted Hearts
“I’m not qualified to tell you how to get rid of guilt,” Juliette said quietly. “But your parents’ marriage isn’t your responsibility. You know that. So whatever decision you make should be yours.”
She squeezed my hands.
It should’ve reassured me. Instead, my thoughts jumped to Friday. To my fall schedule. To tenure.
I let go.
Stood.
Walked to the window.
The rain tapped harder now, impatient against the glass.
I hated my father.
I felt her before I heard her. Juliette stood behind me, not touching. Just there.
“You don’t have to talk,” she said softly.
That nearly broke me.
“I don’t even know where I’d start.”
“Then don’t,” she said. “Just don’t disappear.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
I didn’t look.
I closed my eyes instead, rain and cookies and a life I hadn’t planned pressing in from all sides.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.
35
JULES
Cookies turned into a movie, one where I spent most of it curled on the couch with Cole tucked against my side. He asked about the various things around my house, told me he was impressed by my father’s woodworking skills. Never in a million years would I have dreamed up this scenario—me, cuddled up on the couch with Cole, who I once thought had a permanent stick up my ass.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
We were back in the kitchen now, an open bottle of red wine and takeout from O’Malley’s spread across the table between us.
“I was just thinking about my nickname for you before Italy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh God. Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not,” he said, smiling.
“You need to try this,” I added, pushing my plate toward him. “They make the most delicious grouper anywhere in the Finger Lakes.”
“If you remember from Italy,” he said, “I don’t like fish.”
“Just one little bite?”
He eyed my plate like it might come alive and attack him. The expression made me laugh, but I was determined he’d at least taste it.
I cut off a small piece, speared it with my fork, and stood, walking toward him.
