Page 151 of Burning Daylight

She was supposed to be taken to the rehab facility in the hills of Monterey last week, and I’ve been vacillating between needing to know about her and wanting to let go so I’m not disappointed when her rehab fails.

“I haven’t spoken to her,” he says. “Nobody can for the first thirty days.”

My stomach tightens. “But you know she’s there, at least, right?”

“Of course.” He looks offended. “Frederick checks in on her daily.”

“Why Frederick?”

“Because I asked him to.”

I nod along, but anxiety winds its way around me like a noose. “Will she be safe there?”

He leans forward, tapping his fingers on the table. “One thing about your mother is that she’s very resourceful. I have no doubt that once the drugs clear from her system, she’ll do everything in her power to come home to you. She may not show it, but she loves you more than life.”

“Yeah.” I pick at my napkin, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that I’m not sure I believe she’ll actually get better. After all, someone has to want to better themself in order for it to stick, and she’s never been willing before.

I assuage my thoughts by reminding myself that after her first thirty days I can check in.

“So, you’re really not worried about Craig Calloway coming after me anymore?” I ask. “Or any of his children?”

“No. He controls much more of Rosebrook Falls than back then. Besides, you’re very public here, and you’re no longer a little kid. The only way he can get to you is if you let your guard down. Like, for example, with his daughter.”

Too many emotions bleed together at his words, making the weight of knowing Juliette might never speak to me again hurt even worse. “I told you, she isn’t like that.”

“And I heard you. But let me ask you a question, and you think hard about the answer.” He jerks his chin to a table behind me, and I twist around in my seat to look.

“If you and her are so close, then why is she here with the governor’s son?”

39

JULIETTE

Preston Ascott is everything I expected him to be.

Smart, polite, gentlemanly, and just as handsome as he was back in high school.

He opens car doors and pushes in my chair when we arrive at Dante’s—the most renowned restaurant in our town, coincidentally owned by Paxton—and his eyes don’t stray from mine for a single second that we’re together.

It’s nice.

In any other universe, I’d be having a good time. But I can’t help the tinge of bitterness coating my tongue, knowing how he left me high and dry in the past, and that my parents still put us together like I’m cattle to be sold.

And that I’d rather be here with someone else.

But patience is a virtue, and if there’s one thing all those etiquette lessons taught me, it’s that waiting for the opportune time to make a move is paramount for success. For now, I’m playing the part.

I take a sip of my wine—the kind that Preston ordered for me when we sat down without asking what I’d like—and stare at him.

“Do you really want to date me again?” I interrupt whatever he’s saying.

He stops, his blue eyes sparking with surprise before he clears his throat. “Are you not having a nice time?”

“No, I am,” I reply. “Even though you’ve never apologized for the absolute prick way you broke up with me.”

He grimaces. “I was a kid, Jules?—”

I cut him off. “I just wonder if you’re here because you want to be, or if it’s because our family considers this political foreplay.”