Page 40

Lux

“I quit.”

I knew we needed to have a conversation in the morning, but I didn't expect this.

It had been hard rejecting her last night, but I knew it wasn't right. If not for her, then definitely for me. I didn't want to turn sex between us into something dirty. Into something used to escape.

And now…

Fuck.

I looked up from my phone and into Juliette’s eyes.

Her hair was up in a bun today and she wore a simple crewneck and sweats.

Her puffy eyes told me she'd spent most of the night crying.

It hurt my heart to see it. I left my door open in case she needed to talk—hoping she did—but when she didn't come in, I took it as a sign that she didn't want me around.

In her hands, she had a single white paper that she placed in front of me. It was the first time a nanny was giving me notice instead of me firing them. I took the paper, reading it quickly. There wasn't much on it, but the first sentence caught me off guard.

Instead of a two-week notice, it was a two-day notice, letting me know she was quitting her job and moving out.

Everything came crashing down. All my hopes, wishes, dreams, and I was left to feel the destruction of it all.

It hurt like a bitch. I put myself out there, and all it got me was pain.

But I didn't blame her. She didn't need to be around the daughter of the woman who murdered her parents and made her life a living hell. I might have made it my mission to make her mine, but I would never force her to stay in a situation where she was uncomfortable.

No one could've expected the tragedy that tied us together. Maybe it was why we were pulled together from the beginning. Maybe it was the universe simply trying to repair its mistakes instead of giving me something unbelievable like I originally thought.

The only things running through my mind were selfish thoughts.

I want to tell her that I loved her and that no matter how far she went, she couldn't change what we had. That she would realize it and find her way back.

I wanted to remind her how good we were together. How it felt like we were made for each other.

Then my mind went somewhere else. It panicked. Selfish thoughts turned into desperation.

I wanted to beg her to stay. I wanted to tell her that I needed her more than I had ever needed anyone in my life. That she was the most perfect person for me, and I could not even imagine a life with anyone else. That I would be lonely for the rest of my life if I couldn’t be with her.

I wanted to tell her that Bella needed her just as much as I did. That she'd never been happier. That she looked forward to waking up every day just so she could get her hair done by her. That she loved it when she took her to school and they could have their alone time together.

That Bella told me not to mess this up. And even if I tried my best, it still felt like I did.

But I couldn't bring myself to say any of it because it felt disgusting of me to try and keep her when she needed to go.

So I stared at the paper. Bella wasn't up yet, thankfully, but I didn't know how I would explain this. Especially when I already felt the emotions clogging my throat.

“I can have Gina or someone help you pack your stuff,” I finally offered, looking back up to her.

Her eyebrows were pulled together, and her eyes showed me the pain her words never would.

I felt like there was a wall erected between us, and it was so thick I couldn't possibly reach over and take her hands like I wanted to.

My fingers flexed, my body trying to fight back, trying to fix this somehow.

“No need,” she replied. “I actually packed all of it last night, and today, while Bella is at school, I’ll move everything out to an apartment I got for me and my brother.”

I nodded, though I was shocked to hear that she and her brother had reconciled enough that they could move in together.

“We can still continue with Laura,” I said, hoping she'd take me up on the offer just so I could be near her again.

It was her turn to nod. “Please see it through. I'll show up at the trial if it gets to that.”

I deflated immediately.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, my voice a whisper. I reached out to grab her hand but stopped myself at the last second.

This is your last chance, my heart told my brain. But my brain knew that she had already been through too much.

She paused. “No,” she admitted in a soft voice. “But I don’t… I think I need some time. Is that… okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

The careful mask she had been wearing started to crumble, and I was up, pulling her into my arms.

“I’m so sorry, Juliette,” I said. “I never wanted anything like this to happen and I’m so sorry for my involvement in it.”

She sniffled, the sound breaking my heart even further.

“You did nothing but be born to an awful woman.” She buried her face against my chest. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I said, desperation leaking into my voice. “You take all the time you need, and I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

She pulled away and looked up at me, using her hand to wipe away a few stray tears.

“Looks like you're going to have to find a new nanny.” She tried to smile, but it was weak. As was the half-hearted smile I gave her.

“No one could ever live up to you,” I admitted.

She had changed everything.

From the moment she came into my life, work, money, the company—it all started to take a backseat.

Over the last few months, I had been intentionally delegating more and more stuff to my team and, of course, to Dominic. He complained a little bit, but I know he liked the power that came with it.

Just as I liked the freedom. It meant that I could spend more time with them—my family. Weekends. Trips. Having lunch with them whenever I wanted.

It meant I didn't have to worry about choosing between them and work because after the last half year, they would always come first.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Don't worry about us,” I said, and reached out to grab a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “You focus on yourself.”

She brought her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Lux, what you said last night… I want to tell you that I?—”

I covered her mouth with mine, stopping her words. It was a quick kiss before I was pulling back.

“Tell me when you come back.”

It was a selfish request. One that would save me from likely breaking down in front of her and Bella.

I didn’t know what would be worse. Her leaving without telling me she loved me or telling me she loved me but still choosing to leave anyway.

She hesitated and nodded just as Bella bounced into the kitchen.

“Juliette, can I have twin fishtails today?”

Juliette looked down at her as she came in, forcing a smile.

“Of course you can't, sweetheart.”

I sat down, folding Juliette’s resignation and hiding it in my pocket. And then I watched them, knowing this might be the last breakfast we had together.

* * *

“Why are you here?” Bella asked from the backseat.

She glared at me slightly through the rearview mirror, already coming to a conclusion that was probably not too far from the truth.

“Can't I pick you up after school and take you to your favorite diner?” I asked.

But she still looked at me suspiciously.

“Where is Juliette?”

I took a deep breath as I pulled away from the school. I really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Did you fire her or something?”

“I did not.” I looked back in the rearview mirror and she was pouting. “But she's going to be taking a break for a while.”

“How long?”

I paused. I didn't want to lie to her, but I also didn't want to tell her, or admit to myself, that there was a possibility that she might never come back.

“However long she needs,” I replied. “Until then, I will be working from home again.”

There was a silence before she demanded, “Take me home. I want to see her.”

“Are you sure you don't want to get some pie?—”

“No,” she growled. “I don't want any stupid pie.”

I stayed silent the rest of the way, unable to tell her that when she opened the door, Juliette would not be there waiting for her.

As soon as I parked, she unbuckled herself, jumped out of the car, and stormed into the house.

I followed her, quickly catching sight of her as she went to the kitchen and then looked at the backyard before disappearing into the hallway that connected our rooms.

She was there for quite some time before I heard the shuffle of her feet.

When she reappeared, her eyes were on the floor and her shoulders sagged. The fight and anger had disappeared.

She didn't move, just stood there, staring at the floor, so I walked up to her and knelt. My hands came to her arms, and I rubbed them up and down in an attempt to be comforting.

“It's because of Grandma, isn't it?”

I couldn't lie to her, so I said, “That's right.”

“What's drunk driving?” she asked. I was a bit surprised that she hadn’t asked before, but I was also kicking myself for letting her hear any of our conversations.

“When people drink alcohol, they can get drunk. It makes your head woozy, like you can't think clearly. It's not easy to stand or do much, let alone drive. So drunk driving is very dangerous.”

“But couldn't she just stay?” she asked. “Does she hate drunk driving so much that she's willing to leave us for something Grandma did? She didn’t even say goodbye.”

I pursed my lips.

“Did Juliette ever tell you she lost her parents too?” She nodded, her eyes shifting to mine. “It was an accident with a drunk driver,” I explained. “So it brings up a lot of not-great feelings.”

“What if we tell her that Grandma's not coming back?” she asked. “Do you think she'd come back?”

The truth was that we needed to end this. Even with the blackmail, we needed to gather evidence on her and take her to trial. There was no telling how Juliette would feel afterwards, and I was not about to tell my eight-year-old niece that her grandma had killed Juliette’s parents.

“Sometimes people just need time,” I said.

“Did you ask her to stay?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat.

“I did.”

Finally, the tears started welling in her eyes. She threw her arms around my neck and held onto me for dear life as she sobbed into my shoulder.

“I know,” I whispered, finally letting the tears that had been lingering since last night fill my eyes. “I’ll miss her too.”