Page 40 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

The tiniest smattering of laughter ripples through the room, and Juliet nods.

“Anyway,” she goes on, “I learned my lesson after the first day and started wearing pants. But today I’m starting as an assistant instead.” She takes a deep breath now, shooting a glance over at me, and a trickle of foreboding creeps down my spine at the hint of apology I see in her eyes.

“You might have noticed,” she says when she turns back to the room at large, and her voice is louder now. “That Mr. Slater is a little intimidating. It’s the frown, you know?” She pulls an exaggerated frown that looks nothing like me, and?—

“There!” she says, whirling and pointing at my face. “See? That look right there.”

It’s only then that I realize I am, in fact, frowning .

But really—she’s throwing me under the bus. Am I supposed to smile?

“He wears that face a lot, right?” Juliet says, and another ripple of laughter reaches my ears from the employees.

What is happening right now?

Juliet looks away from me and back to the work floor.

“Anyway, he’s kind of scary. So I’ve been hired to help him refine his communication techniques.

Because believe it or not, he’s really a pretty great guy.

He’s just not good at expressing himself or his feelings.

” She gives a little laugh. “I think we all know someone like that. I have a sister who I’ve seen cry once in the last few years .

Whenever she’s upset she just puts on headphones and cleans everything. ”

It’s interesting to see what’s happening—Juliet is babbling now, chatting easily as though she’s talking to a group of friends. And although I catch a few amused looks being exchanged, the tension in the room seems to be dissipating.

“Me, on the other hand,” she goes on, putting her hands on her hips.

“I cry at everything, you know? If I’m happy, I cry.

If I’m sad, I cry. Angry, worried, stressed, excited—if I’m feeling extreme emotions, I’m crying.

And I’m not a cute crier either. My face turns splotchy pink and my nose swells up.

” She’s gesticulating wildly now, and you’d think there’s a fascinating magician standing here instead of Juliet—every eye is trained on her.

She has this room completely spellbound.

Even if she’s lying through her teeth; I happen to know that Juliet is still beautiful even when she’s crying.

“Ugh,” she says now, heaving a sigh. “I got off track. The point is that Lu—” She breaks off, clears her throat, and tries again.

“Mr. Slater is bad at expressing himself. Yes, he looks a little grumpy, but he doesn’t bite.

So I’m here to help him integrate better—and, if we’re being honest, to be a regular assistant, because he needs one. ”

I bristle at this, because I think I’ve been doing just fine without an assistant. Plus she doesn’t need to be telling everyone about all my shortcomings, does she? What if I were the type of guy who got embarrassed?

But I guess this is what her warning was for—and the effect of her words on the room is undeniable. I didn’t realize how tense my employees always are until this very moment.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” Juliet chirps. “Part of my job is to make sure this office is running smoothly by helping ensure effective communication between you all and Mr. Slater, so I’m happy to listen!”

She gives one last little wave, nods at the employees, and then twirls around and heads right back to my office, her head high. I do my best to look dignified as I scramble after her.

The second we’re back in my office, though, and the door is closed firmly behind us, I whirl on her.

“What was that?” I say in a low voice.

She settles herself on the couch and looks apologetically up at me. “I did warn you,” she says. “Your employees are terrified of you. It rolls off them in waves.”

“Still, you can’t just—” I glance over my shoulder to check how open the blinds are. When I find them mostly closed, I stride over and stand in front of her. “You can’t undermine my authority like that.”

She clears her throat, looking up at me. “To be fair,” she says, and she has the audacity to blink those big blue eyes at me with total innocence. “I didn’t exactly undermine you so much as—as?— ”

I raise a brow at her as she struggles to find words. “Yes?” I say, my voice dry.

“I’m helping you be more personable,” she finally says. “More human. Less robotic.”

“I’m not robotic,” I say.

“You’re a little robotic,” she says. She holds her fingers up in a tiny pinch, looking at me through the gap between them. “Just a little, little bit.” She lets her arm drop and smiles at me. “I bet if we dated, you’d learn to soften up a bit?—”

“ Juliet ,” I growl.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says quickly, wincing. “I forgot. I’m not supposed to say things like that. You don’t want to date me anyway.” She stands up and leans closer, tilting her chin up as she says softly, “We’re just friends. So you don’t want to fall in love with me.”

Despite the words dropping easily from her lips, her eyes are making promises to me, promises of things I might want if I let myself—a place to call home, a place of security and warmth.

If you ever need somewhere to rest…I’m here.

And something happens then, as her offer reappears from my memory—as she continues to look up at me with hopeful eyes and smiling lips. An image of our future unfolds right in front of me, so bright and tangible I might almost believe I’ve been transported there.

Baking experiments that would leave Juliet beaming and our kitchen a mess. Her warmth pressed to my back as she demanded a piggy back ride after walking too long in heels. Sun-drenched mornings curled up in bed, or maybe chilly mornings because she steals all the blankets.

Her soft voice, gently coaxing a smile to my lips when I’m angry. My t-shirt damp with her tears when she’s crying and needs to be held. Little moments that would be ours, stars in her eyes, and I…

I would adore her.

I could adore her. I could love her—a different love from what I had with Maura. Because I gave Maura everything, and she gave me only little parts of herself.

I didn’t need Maura to lose herself in me—I wouldn’t have wanted her to lose herself in me. But I needed something more reciprocal.

My breath whooshes out of me as my chest retracts, like I’ve just been hit in the solar plexus. Juliet’s gaze is concerned now, darting over my features with a furrowed brow, and before I can stop her, she’s lifted one hand to my cheek, cradling my face with a soft touch.

“Are you all right?” she says gently. Then she moves her hand to my forehead, pressing lightly. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice is rough. “Just—tired.” I step back, out of her reach, and then turn on the spot as my heart continues to race. I round my desk and all but collapse into my chair.

“Mmm,” she hums, still looking skeptical as her arm falls to her side. “You’re always tired, aren’t you?”

I grimace, looking at my computer screen. “Yes.” My pulse is more normal now, and I inhale deeply, trying to get a grip on my thoughts. On my feelings.

Juliet hums again and then returns to her spot on the couch. She pulls out the silver notebook and fluffy pink pen once more, and then she’s scribbling who knows what. Her hair falls in sheets around her as her body curves forward, leaning over the little journal and continuing to write.

I don’t even ask. I assume she’s just making more notes, and quite frankly, I need a moment to myself. A moment to breathe.

Because I truly could, if I wanted to. I could date her. Love her. She would be able to coax those emotions from me. And as much as I protest, I know Rodney is right about this too; the excuses I make are just that.

Excuses. I could find a way to be with her if I really wanted.

The thought haunts me long after it appears, and I know it’s because deep down I’m wondering if I do want to be with Juliet. The idea should be absurd—we’re as different as it’s possible to be. She’s bright and bubbly and outgoing.

And yet…despite those things, she’s serious and grounded in the most important places. She puts her heart into whatever she decides to do—whether it’s working as a janitor or pursuing a relationship with me—and she doesn’t let failure stop her. If she falls down, she simply gets back up.

She doesn’t wallow. She clearly gets sad sometimes, but she doesn’t linger in those emotions. She feels them, and then she sets them aside and moves forward.

I can’t help but admire those traits in her. I envy them, too. I want to be like that. And sometimes, when I look at her…

I think I might be able to leave Maura behind. Stop dragging mud through my life and wallowing in self-pity.

Sometimes, I think I might be able to change.