Page 30 of In Every Chapter

That made me pause. It wasn’t just the house that felt different. Juliet did, too. She was . . . softer. And not wearing shroud-of-the-dead colours. Had marriage done that? Had she changed in the seven years I was missing? Or was I the one who’d done the changing? And rushed into their wedding?

Nausea churned my stomach just thinking about it. There was a cavern inside my chest, a black hole sucking away the figments and flashes of a life I couldn’t remember.

Juliet wasn’t the only one who changed.

Stephanie was calmer. Less anxious. And getting married. I’d only known the woman to date beyond a second date once. And he’d been a total loser.

Liz was less angry. Still passionate, but it had tempered from anger to genuine passion. And she’d been married for three months.

Looking at these women, they were my soul sisters and strangers all at once. Just how much was I missing?

Juliet eyed Liz’s masterpiece. “I didn’t know I had a cake stand."

“You don’t. I borrowed Mama D’s.”

“Of course you did.” Juliet swiped a bit of frosting.

“Paws off!” Liz swatted at her, missing by a mile.

They slipped into light squabbling. That dynamic I remembered well. Liz, in her floral headscarf and embroidered denim overalls, hadn’t met a button she didn’t like to push. And Juliet was her favourite elevator-door panel.

Stephanie wordlessly handed me a half-sweet iced tea while she sipped her La Croix. Another thing that hadn’t changed. I was clinging to these small memories like a lifeline.

“Can I have a tour?” I asked, sipping the drink quickly condensing in my hand.

Juliet blinked mid-argument, then started. “Of course. Sorry. I forget this is different for you.”

“Are we here a lot?” I asked.

She shrugged. “More at your house. Myles and I haven’t been back in Serenity Springs long, and we’re traveling a lot.”

It was so weird hearing her talk about herself and Myles as a couple. Given her vehement denial of any and all feelings for the man our entire college career. That they actually worked out blew my mind.

“How long have you been married?”

“Eighteen months. Wait, not that door!”

My hand fell away from the knob of the first door on the right. “Oh, sorry.”

Stephanie blinked. “That’s literally your storage room, Jules.”

“Did you finally get a skeleton?” I teased. It’d been a long-standing joke about Juliet’s prickly personality needing a skull like Hamlet or Sherlock Holmes.

“I . . . no. Sorry.” She glanced at me with a pained expression that hurt my heart, and I had no idea why.

“Jules, honey,” Liz cajoled soothingly. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Juliet’s shoulders drooped, like a scolded child. “I just . . . I . . .”

This unsure version of Juliet had me completely unmoored. She was the take-charge, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer, grinchy-hearted, and a-little-bit-bossy kind of girl. I loved that about her. Emotional, hesitant Juliet had me wishing for a user’s manual on how to proceed or restart to factory settings.

“Go ahead,” she said softly, waving her hand at the door before wrapping her arms around her middle in a protective stance.

Stephanie eyed Juliet, then the door. Calculating. I could see the thoughts whirling in her head. Stephanie and I were the group’s champion overthinkers. Finally, she twisted the knob and shoved the door open.

Then she gasped.

Liz and I immediately crowded in, poking our heads around her, which wasn’t hard because she was pocket sized.