love them. Teaching them, though. Not raising them. I was an only child, honey. I’m doing well to keep a cat and two houseplants alive. Sweetie,” she said, “whatever’s best for you guys... It’ll happen. When it’s supposed to and without your...help. After all, your dad picked your mom on his own, right?”
Finally, the wind seemed to go out of the girl’s sails. “Guess I hadn’t thought of that.” Then she sighed. “But it’s so...hard.”
“I know, honey. Really.” Claire glanced up at the clock over the counter, dug her wallet out of her purse. “And we need to pick up your sister.”
Juliette fell silent after that. Until, right as they reached the dance studio, she said, “Can we at least be friends?”
“Of course! You need someone to talk to, I’m here. But you need to tell your dad your matchmaking days are over. Because he doesn’t need to worry about that on top of everything else. Deal?”
“Deal,” Juliette said on a gusty sigh as her little sister burst outside, and she squatted to hug her.
So, whew, done, Claire thought after she took the kids for burgers and shakes, staying in the car after driving them home. But listening to Isabella’s giggles as they ate, Juliette’s too-grown-up observations about her world... It hadn’t exactly been horrible.
And you know what else? Seeing the little one streak to her father, who was outside raking the last of the leaves, watching him scoop her into his arms, his eyes glued to hers as she relayed every detail of the past two hours... Having someone like that in her life might not be so horrible, either. Except there were way too many ifs and buts and excepts attached to that thought to even go there. Because if Claire had learned anything from her over-before-it-began marriage, it was that serious relationships required at least a certain level of self-sacrifice—something she didn’t seem very good at.
And this man—he glanced over with a nod and mouthed Thanks, and she nodded back before putting the car in Reverse—after what he’d been through?
Whatever he needed, Claire definitely wasn’t it.
* * *
Juliette fell back on her bed, making poor Barney jump, then pick his way across the rumpled Marimekko comforter to slather Juliette’s face with sloppy kisses.
“Stop, stop!” she squealed, trying to squirm away from the wriggling dog. Sprawled on the extra twin bed a few feet away, Rosie Valencia, her bestie since forever, laughed her not-exactly-small butt off.
“Get her, Barney!” Rosie cheered, which only made the stupid dog lick faster. “Maybe you can wash away that rotten mood.”
“Why does everybody keep saying that?” Juliette said, shoving the dog off her chest to haul herself upright in the field of giant red-and-hot-pink flowers. She’d thought this was the coolest bedding ever when she’d been ten and Mom had surprised her with the makeover that banished the cutesy Winnie-the-Pooh stuff of her childhood. And it wasn’t that she hated it, exactly. But it was time for a change, maybe.
The dog flopped over, baring his pink belly. Sighing, Juliette obliged, which of course made him crunch forward to madly lick her hand. “I’m not in a bad mood,” she muttered.
“Uh-huh.” Rosie swept her nearly black hair over her shoulder as she shifted on the bed, her math book open on her lap. Pale green eyes, eerie against Rosie’s dark skin, met Juliette’s. Like her, Rosie was also the eldest. Only she had six siblings. All boys. As crazy as it got here, it was ten times worse at Rosie’s. “So you gonna tell me why you’re pissed, or what?”
Even two days later it still stung that she had to admit Miss Jacobs was right—that whatever was gonna happen, or not, Juliette couldn’t influence it one way or the other. Unfortunately, this flew in the face not only of everything Mom had ever said about people being in charge of their own destiny, but of Juliette’s naturally impatient nature.
Something she doubted Rosie, who was the most laid-back person ever, would understand. The upside to this was that nine times out of ten Rosie was like “sure, whatever” about pretty much anything Juliette suggested. Theirs was definitely a symbiotic relationship. But being from a family in which everybody apparently lived to some ridiculous age—she had a great-grandmother who was like a hundred and five, yeesh—Rosie couldn’t possibly understand the huge honking hole inside Juliette that only seemed to grow larger every day. Instead of closing up, like you’d expect. Like she’d hoped.
“It’s just...stuff,” she said, grabbing her own math book and loose-leaf binder from the foot of the bed, smacking both open. “I’ll deal. So...what did you think of the cast choices for the holiday play?”
Some Dr. Seuss version of A Christmas Carol. Hysterical. And it had a gazillion parts, so lots of kids could be in it. Even if for only a few minutes. Like her and Rosie. Because lead roles only went to juniors and seniors.
“They all sounded okay during the read-through, I guess,” Rosie said. “Although I’d like to swat that smarmy smile off whatshername’s face.” Juliette smiled, knowing exactly who Rosie meant. Amber Fortunato. Big hair, bigger boobs, Daddy owned a BMW dealership. ’Nuff said. “But her boyfriend? The dude who’s playing Scrooge’s nephew? What’s his name?”
Juliette’s cheeks prickled. “Scott Jenkins?” she said, staring really hard at the first problem. She’d paid attention in class, honest to God, but she still didn’t get it.
“Yeah, Scott. He is so frickin’ cute. I could totally lick ice cream from those dimples. And those blue eyes... Le sigh.”
Honestly. Whatever popped into Rosie’s head slid right out of her mouth a second later. Juliette might be impatient, but she wasn’t impulsive. She did think things through before she said/did them. Mostly.
“He’s a junior,” she said, still staring at the book. Still blushing. “Out of our league. Not to mention, hello? Amber?”
“Please. I give that two weeks, tops.” Rosie tilted her head. “And you do know your face is about the same color as those flowers, right?”
“Shut. Up.”
“So you should totally ask him out.”
Juliette’s eyes slid to Rosie’s.
“Okay, so in two weeks. When my prediction proves true.”
“Right. Because even if Scott didn’t laugh in my face, Dad would kill me. And then him, for accepting. Then me again, to make sure I got the point.”
“So what if he asked you out? You know, after he and Amber split and he’s all looking for someone to heal his wounds and stuff.”
Juliette sighed. Because as much as she hated to admit it, that particular fantasy had crossed her mind a time or twenty. But still... “Slightly different order, same outcome. We’d both be dead. You know I can’t date yet, Rosie. Not until I’m sixteen. And in any case...” She glared at the book again. Nope, not making any more sense than it did five minutes ago. “I’ve got too much else on my mind right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like passing geometry, for one thing.”
“So
