"I knew she was into you when she brought you up on our date," Doug said.
"Wait, you dated Juliette?" Travis asked. "Are we going to have another problem on our hands? Because I don't want to be in the middle of some love triangle."
"There's no triangle," Doug said. "Juliette is into him, and he's into her."
"Thanks for the recap," he said dryly. He reached into the fridge and pulled out another beer.
"You should be careful," Doug said, a more serious note in his voice now. "She's going to be hard to leave. And you are leaving, aren't you?"
"That is the plan," he admitted. "Juliette knows that." He took a long draught of beer, not wanting to think about the moment when he might have to say good-bye to her. He sat back down at the table. "So, who's going to the love boat parade tomorrow?"
"I'll be on the water," Doug said. "I'd invite you on the boat, but we're full."
"That's fine." He turned to Travis. "What about you?"
"I thought I'd take Cameron over there. He likes boats."
"What happened to your wife?" Doug asked Travis. "If you don't mind me asking."
"Since you already asked," Travis said, his lips drawing into a tight line, "she left us about six months ago. She said she was bored with being a wife and a mother, and she read some book about traveling and hiking and finding herself, and the next thing I knew she was gone. Oh, and she took most of our savings for her trip."
"Sorry," Doug said. "That's rough."
"Yeah," Travis said. "I understand why she left me, but not why she left Cameron. She hasn't called. I can't reach her. He can't talk to her. It's like she died, only she didn't. But I'm going to try to make things right for Cameron and for my mother, who has her own issues." Travis looked at Roman. "She said you and Juliette were checking up on her."
"Only because Cameron looked a little lost before you came back."
"I had no idea she was as scattered as she is. I won't be asking her to babysit again." He paused. "I do appreciate your looking out for my kid."
"When Juliette sees someone in trouble, she doesn't look away."
"You don't, either," Travis said quietly.
He felt a little guilty that he'd tried to look away when Travis first arrived at the house. "You give me more credit than I deserve."
"I think we should get some food," Doug interrupted. "How about I order in?"
"Since none of us are up for driving, I'd say that's a good idea."
Doug nodded. "By the way, your guitar skills have certainly improved." He turned to Travis. "Roman played at Mickelson's Bar last night."
"So you kept up with that. Good for you."
"Thanks. Someone call for some Chinese food or something. I'm starving."
"I'm on it," Doug said, pulling out his phone.
"I need to call my mom," Travis said. "I just want to make sure Cameron is good for another hour."
"Call your mom," Roman echoed with a laugh. "Now, it really does feel like old times."
* * *
Juliette was lucky enough to find a spot near the pier. The great thing about driving a small car was that it fit in anywhere.
As she walked through the parking lot, a dozen or so people stopped her to say hello and offer a compliment about her bakery or one of her desserts, and each comment broadened her smile and deepened her sense of belonging.
Fairhope was becoming her town again. She felt connected to the community. She might not have made a lot of close, personal friends yet—mostly because she hadn't had the time—but she was definitely starting to feel like she fit in. It was what she'd wanted, what she'd come back for, and it felt good.
"Juliette, wait up."
She paused as Sara hurried to catch up with her. "Hi, Sara."
"I'm glad you came; I wasn't sure you'd be able to tear yourself away from the bakery."
"I probably shouldn't have torn myself away, but I didn't want to miss the parade. And, frankly, I could use some fresh air. I was beginning to feel like a big bag of sugar."
"Sometimes I feel like a big bag of coffee beans," Sara said with a laugh. "The scent sticks to my skin."
"Maybe we better not get too close to anyone," she joked. "We'll make them hungry for dessert and in the mood for coffee."
"Which would be great if we were working tonight, but Donavan and I agreed that we will do the Sweetheart's Dance on Saturday, and that is it—at least until Easter."
"My thoughts, exactly. So where is your handsome Rhett Butler tonight?"
"You know his name is Tim, right?"
She laughed. "Okay, Tim."
"He should be here soon. What about you? Where's your Romeo?" she asked with a teasing smile.
"Roman also said he'd meet me here."
"You two are destined to be together."
She knew Sara was joking, but there was a part of her that wanted to believe that, too. She was just afraid destiny was going to throw her a curve ball.
"What did I say?" Sara asked, giving her a concerned look. "Your smile just went dark."
"Nothing."
"Are things not going as well with Roman as you hoped?"
"They're going better than I hoped. That's the problem. I don't know what I'm going to do when it ends."
"Maybe it won't end."
She wanted to be the optimist who could believe that, but she was having trouble getting there. Fortunately, Sara's attention was drawn to Tim, a tall, skinny man who greeted her with a hug.
"Do you remember Juliette from the movie festival?" Sara asked.
Tim nodded. "Nice to see you again."
"You, too. You look a lot different tonight."
"I was happy to leave Rhett Butler behind."
"Looks like the boats are getting ready to start," Sara interrupted. "Let's get a good spot on the pier."
"You two go ahead," she said. "I'm going to keep an eye out for Roman."
"See you later," Sara said, as Tim put his arm around her waist, and they walked off together.
There were certainly a lot of couples out tonight, she thought, as she wandered through the crowd, feeling a little too single. She shouldn't be surprised. Love was in the air. And she was doing her best to contribute to that love with her Wish cookies. She'd already had a couple of people stop by the bakery to tell her that they'd gotten a date for Valentine's Day after making their wish on her cookies.
She liked that her father's tradition was continuing, and she enjoyed being part of other people's happiness. But she was starting to wonder if she should have wished for something for herself while baking some of those cookies.
As she wandered down the path, she saw Roman coming in her direction, and just like that, her pensive mood brightened up.
He smiled when he saw her, and she couldn’t help thinking that he smiled a lot more these days. He talked more, too. Maybe he was starting to feel like he fit in as well.
Any thought of not kissing him hello vanished, as he grabbed her hands and pulled her in for a warm, lingering kiss that told her he was as happy to see her as she was to see him.
"I'm so glad you came," she said, a little breathless from his kiss.
"I'm so glad you're here."
"I guess we're both pretty happy right now."
He grinned. "I guess we are." He tipped his head down the path. "I saw an empty bench back that way. Want to check it out? Get away from the crowds?"
"Sure." She followed him over to the wooden bench that was farther away from the start of the parade but had a perfect view of the water. "This is great."
He put his arm around her shoulders, and she couldn't help but snuggle up next to him.
"How did today's baking bonanza go?" he asked.
"Very well. I'm keeping up—barely. But the next three days will be crazy. I just got an order today for a Valentine's Day wedding cake."
"What? Valentine's Day is Tuesday. It's Friday. Who decides to order a wedding cake four days out? I hope you said no."
"I never s
ay no," she confessed with a sigh. "It's so romantic. The couple was going to get married in the spring, but her father is ill, and she doesn't want to wait that long. So they decided to do it on Valentine's Day in her parents' backyard."
"How big is this cake supposed to be?"
"Big enough to feed about forty people. So probably three good-sized layers. I can do it," she said, trying to infuse some confidence into her voice. "I have to do it."
He moved a little away from her, dislodging her head from his shoulder.
"Hey, I was just getting comfortable," she protested.
"What are you trying to prove, Juliette?"
"What do you mean?" she asked warily.
"You're not superhuman. You can't bake everything everyone wants you to make."
"I'm building a business, Roman. I have to put myself out there. I have to push right now."
"Is it really just about building the bakery up?"
She didn't like the challenge in his voice or the way he was looking at her, as if he knew something about her she didn't know—or didn't want to know. "What does that mean?"
"Forget it."
She sat up straighter. "No, I'm not going to forget it. You want to say something, say it."
"Fine. I think your reasons for taking on so much work, not to mention solving other people's problems, are more about keeping yourself too busy to think. You're running away from yourself."
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's not. You came back here to recapture your childhood, but I'm guessing that the memories aren't as sharp as you thought they would be, that you don't feel your parents' presence, you don't hear their laughter, you can't remember what their favorite foods were or what flowers your mom planted in the spring every year. As long as you're fixing other people's lives and working at a breakneck pace, you don't have to acknowledge that."
She stared back at him. She'd once thought he was a man of few words, but he certainly seemed to have plenty to say now.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," Roman added, regret in his eyes. "But you have to slow your pace down, or you'll burn out or drop from exhaustion. I don't want to see that happen. And I have seen it happen."
"Are you talking about yourself now?"
"Yes. I was guilty of a similar obsession when I first got into the Corps. I had to be the best at everything. I had to prove I was not the irresponsible kid everyone thought I was. I was relentless in my ambition to be better than I used to be."
"There's nothing wrong with ambition, with wanting to be the best."
"As long as you're honest about it. I thought if I could be someone else, someone better, that would change everything. I could say I'm a soldier and nothing else would matter. I would suddenly be transformed. But that's not the way it worked. I was a good soldier, but I was also a kid who grew up with an addict for a mother. I had to learn how to trust in the people next to me, not just myself."
It was the most revealing thing he'd ever said about himself, and she was touched that he trusted her enough to share his story. "How did you learn how to stop running away from yourself, how to trust?" she asked.
"My staff sergeant locked me up for twenty-four hours one day. He told me when I was done fighting myself, then I could fight for others. Only then could I be the soldier he needed me to be. I was nineteen at the time and mad as hell about it, but all those hours with nothing else to do did finally make me stop and think about everything. He was right. I was a better soldier after that." He paused. "And you'd be a better baker if you didn't take on such a ridiculous amount of work, if you acknowledged that you can be happy even if you don't remember or relive every moment of the past."
"You're not exactly…wrong," she said slowly. "I did think that coming home would feel more like home than it has. Don't get me wrong; I love Fairhope. But it's not the same. And I don't see my parents around every corner the way I thought I would." She paused. "I feel better when I bake. I can control my kitchen. Everything turns out beautiful. Outside, it's not always that way."
"No, it's not."
"But I mostly take on too much work, because I hate disappointing people. I don't like to say no. I don't want to be seen as weak or unable to manage my business. It's my dream job, and I have to be successful. There's nothing else I want to do. This is it."
He nodded. "I get it. But you can say no and still be successful."
"I'm going to have to work on that."
"I'm sorry if I came on too strong," he said.
"I guess I should be grateful you didn't try to lock me up somewhere for twenty-four hours," she said dryly. "Did that really happen, or were you embellishing?"
"It really happened," he said with a smile. "I was a hardhead. He wanted to knock some sense into me. It worked."
"Do you…" She hesitated over her next question, then decided since they were being so honest, she would ask it. "Do you forgive your mother for the way she treated you?"
He thought about her question. "Yes," he said finally. "It's taken a long time, and sometimes I still feel some anger, but I know that her addictions were always about her, not about me. She loved me, but she wasn't meant to be a mother."
"That seems like a very healthy perspective."
"I've had a long time to make my peace. Being angry with her didn't accomplish anything."
"I was really angry when my parents died," she confessed. "I was mad that they took that trip without me, which is crazy, because I would have died with them, so I should be grateful I wasn't invited."
"But you felt left out."
"Before and after," she admitted. "I've never said that to anyone. It sounds absurd. They're dead, and I'm angry with them for dying without me."
"They just got on a boat, Juliette. That's all they did."
"I know. I just wish they hadn't."
He nodded and then put his arms around her. "I wish that, too."
He held her for a few minutes, then said, "Hey, you're missing the parade."
She turned around and they settled back against the bench as the brightly lit boats made their way across the water in front of them. "They're so pretty," she murmured.
"Not as pretty as you, but not bad."
"Now you're going to sweet-talk me?"
He laughed. "I hope you know that I just want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy, too." She turned to look at him. "So, your physical is Monday?"
"Yes."
"Are you nervous?"
"Not about doing it, but the results could determine the rest of my life, so that's unsettling."
"You're in good shape; it seems likely you'll pass—don't you think?"
"I still get some ringing in my ears. It's better but I don't know if it's good enough."
"Won't they just extend your disability then?"
"I don't know what's going to happen," he said, tightening his arm around her. "I'm sure there are jobs I'll be offered if I can't go back to my unit."
"Would you take a different job?"
"I should. It's all about service. It's never been about what I want to do but what the Marines need me to do. The Corps has been my life, my family, my job for thirteen years. I can't imagine leaving, but I also can't imagine not being able to do the work I was trained to do."
A wave of sadness ran through her at his words. He was being honest, but that honesty was breaking her heart. How could she even want him to leave everything for her?
Maybe going back to his job wouldn't mean the end of their relationship. Soldiers fell in love, got married, and still served. But her life would have to come second to his. She'd have to follow him. How could she do that? How could she give up this life she was building?
She knew she was getting way ahead of herself, but time was moving fast. Next week Roman could be gone. She didn't know whether she should make the most of whatever time they had left or start pushing him away now so it wouldn't hurt so much.
However, the idea of pushing him away when he felt
so good right next to her seemed impossible to fathom. So, she wasn't going to do it. Decision time would come soon enough.
They watched the boats for the next half hour, comfortable with silence now.
"That must be Doug's boat," Roman said, breaking into their quiet to point out a large yacht with a flag for the University of Alabama's Crimson Tide football program.
"Speaking of Doug. What happened last night?"
"We talked everything out—me, Doug, and Travis."
"So you're all buddies again?"
"Looks that way."
She turned to face him. "You're starting to fit into this town, Roman. Both of us are. I left when I was a kid; you left when you were a teenager. We came back as adults, and I think we've both been trying to figure out our places."
"You definitely fit, Juliette. You're like Donavan. You give and give to this town, and you are part of the heartbeat, just like she is."
"I would like that. And that has nothing to do with recapturing the past."
"Got it."
"I hope now that you and Doug and Travis are on the same page, the news can get out to the rest of the town. I would love to shut Martha up."
"I suspect you'll get another chance, hopefully, before she tries to get me arrested for kissing you."
She laughed at the reminder. "For a minute, I thought that knock on the window of your truck was a cop."
"She was worse than a cop."
"She gave me quite the talking-to. But now that I know there's something in her past making her act the way she does, I'm going to see if I can find out what it is."
"Of course you are," he said with a wry smile.
"And I still want to find out who Cecelia wrote those letters to. I can't help being curious, Roman. I spend a lot of time alone with butter and flour and sugar—my brain tends to wander off into whatever puzzle I'm trying to solve. By the way, Cecelia never came by to get her letters. I wonder if she's having second thoughts about taking them back."
"That's possible. Some people like to leave the past alone."
"I think my parents would have liked you," she said.
He raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Really? I've never been very popular with parents."
"That was when you were a teenager, I'm guessing. What about now? I'm sure there have been women in your life."
Sweet Somethings Page 18
