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“You’re nervous,” Grayson states.
I glare at him and chuck the football at his head. But because we have the same genes and a penchant for athletics, he catches it easily.
“It’s nice to see you sweat for once,” he says and throws the ball back to me.
“I’m not sweating.”
I stand up to throw the ball easier and we start tossing it back and forth as we talk. It reminds me of when we were teenagers and we used to throw a football or baseball across the living room. Mom would yell at us half-heartedly to take it outside, but she never forced us to leave. I pull my pendant out from under my sweater and squeeze it, almost missing the ball when Grayson throws it.
“Mom would have loved her,” Grayson says. I can’t help but smile knowing he’s right.
Juliette’s sweet demeanor mixed with the little doses of sass would have meshed well with our mom’s personality. The thought that Mom won’t ever get to meet Juliette makes my chest tight and my eyes sting.
I clear my throat. “Did you ever cry after Mom died?”
It’s Grayson’s turn to fumble the ball now, no doubt surprised that I brought up emotions without being prodded.
“Not for a while.” He rolls the ball from one hand to another, looking thoughtful. “When I went to therapy we talked about her and I finally let it out. I realized I didn’t let myself grieve her and that contributed to my anxiety.”
Even though I encouraged Grayson to go to therapy after his panic attack, we didn’t talk about it much after that. I gave him the grounding techniques I learned and told him I’d be there for him, but that was it. We certainly never talked aboutmyemotions or issues.
“Did crying help anything?”
Growing up, our mom tried to encourage us to be open about emotions, but our dad’s strict upbringing and military background made him less accepting. If I had a nickel for every time I heard ‘crying won’t solve anything’ come out of his mouth I’d be a very rich man. But even he shed a few tears when Mom died. Somehow, I still felt like I couldn’t.
“Yes and no.” Another toss of the ball. “It didn’t make me miss her less, but it did help me process some of the stuff I had pushed down.”
I nod. “That makes sense.”
“Do you love her?” He changes the subject. I’m thankful he didn’t ask me if I’ve cried over Mom, but I could do without him questioning me on my feelings for Juliette.
“Yeah. I haven’t known her long, but I do.”
“Time doesn’t matter. What’s that cliché? When you know, you know?”
“Have you been watching Hallmark with Maddie?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, but did you know that MJ watches them now?”
“Maddie told me a while back. Who would have thought MJ would go soft?”
“It’s almost like falling in love changes people.” A teasing smirk stretches across his face. “Makes them write letters and talk about their feelings.”
I throw the football extra hard on my turn and it slips through his hands, hitting him in the chest. He just laughs, not phased at all.
“Okay, we’re done talking now.”
“Aw, come on, Sunshine! Don’t shut down now.”
I turn on my heel and walk out of his office. His laughter echoes down the hall. And even though I act annoyed, I’m smiling as I walk away. Because I am a changed man–or at least achangingone–and I don’t mind it at all since it’s because of Juliette.
My lungs burn in my chest as I make my fourth lap around the lake. Juliette wasn’t home when I pulled into my driveway. So, I decided to make the most of my restlessness and go for a run. I’ve forced myself not to run back up after each lap to check if her car is in her driveway. Though that won’t stop me once I walk up to my door after this last one.
I cut off the path and try to keep my head down on the way back up to my cottage. I’m waiting until the very last second to check for her car, to prolong my nerves a bit longer.
“Adrian!” Juliette’s voice floats on the wind and I stumble to a halt, almost tripping over my own feet.
She’s standing on her back deck, leaning against the railing. My feet pick up speed, eagerly closing the distance between us. The closer I get, the lighter I feel.
