“Hey! Juliet—oh hey! What…how are you?” I move in for the cursory, noncommittal hug. Taking a whiff of her before pulling away, stupid smile plastered to my face. “What brings you here?”
“I am so sorry.” Her eyes dart around the room—at my sister, at my niece, both avidly watching with wide eyed stares, not even bothering to hide their interest. “I wasn’t sure how to get ahold of you, so I just asked Thad for your address.”
It’s not shocking that my family is gawking at her, considering they’re both incredibly nosy, always in my business, and haven’t seen a woman in my house since Willa moved out.
In and out in less than two months.
Cringe.
“You couldn’t get ahold of me?” In this day and age? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to look a person up on the internet and have access to their information at the click of a button.
Facebook. The Gram. LinkedIn.
The Tok.
The emails.
“I tried calling and texting, but the number wasn’t working?”
“Which number were you using?” I’m curious.
She holds the phone out and I glance at it. “That’s not my number. It’s nine nine four, not nine nine three.”
“Well that makes sense then—I thought for a second you’d blocked me.”
“I can’t block you if I don’t have your number.”
I catch my sister’s gaze over the top of Juliet’s head. Really? It’s saying. What the hell kind of weird flirting is this?
Juliet thrusts something toward me—something I recognize that’s most definitely mine.
My tablet.
“I’d wondered where that had gone!” I take it from her. “I messaged the campground, but Ben hadn’t seen it.”
“I found it while I was packing my things. Figured I’d see you soon enough but…”
Clearing my throat, I shift the focus.
Try to catch my sister’s eye and send her a nonverbal message: leave.
Get out.
Take Skipper and GO.
Penelope ignores me, easing onto the barstool at the kitchen counter and pulling a green grape out of the bowl on the counter, popping it in her mouth.
“So you met on the camping trip?”
“Yes,” Juliet fills her in on the details. “I’m Mia’s best friend. Thad and she thought it would be a good idea to stick your brother and me in the same camper.”
“Ooh, love that,” Penelope hums, not helpful at all. “How did you get along?”
“Great,” I tell her abruptly. “Isn’t your pizza getting cold? Skipper must be hungry.”
“Nope—I’ll warm it up.” Penelope happily remains rooted to the spot, digging for information. “Had the two of you met before?”
“No—that was our first time.”
Penelope nods along. “What was your first impression of my brother?”
“Did you think he was handsomeeee?” Skipper intones, in on her mother’s schtick.
“Good question, Skip.” My sister high-fives her seven-year-old daughter.
They are totally in cahoots.
“Did you kiss?” Skipper adds, betraying me on so many levels.
She’s embarrassing me in front of a pretty woman.
She’s definitely embarrassing Juliet, whose face has turned crimson red.
These questions are way too personal.
Actually, I’d definitely answer that last one if Juliet wasn’t standing in the room because: why not. We did, in fact, kiss.
Regardless, Penelope needs to teach Skipper how to use a filter; they look way too pleased with themselves.
Two peas in a pod on a mission to get me married.
“What do you do, Juliet?” my sister asks her because she just can’t help herself.
“I’m a teacher—middle school, actually. It’s pretty much the worst age ever,” she laughs good-humoredly while my sister nods her head in agreement.
“I was a camp counselor when I was in college for middle schoolers, and I remember a group of girls who kept trying to sneak out of their two-story windows because it was on a college campus and they were rooming in the dorms. Can you believe that? Sneaking out of a two-story window? Who does that?”
“Those of us who think we’re invincible? Usually you’re around the age of twelve when it starts?” My sister and Juliet laugh.
I butt in, seeing no choice.
I have to put an end to this little tea party love fest. I don’t want my sister getting too cozy with someone she’s probably never going to see again. Skipper, either—I wouldn’t intentionally bring anyone around unless I thought they were going to stay around. Not after that whole debacle with Willa. Skipper took it harder than I did for sure.
Those little seven-year-old hearts get broken pretty easily—her dad’s not in the picture, so I’m the only father figure she’s ever had.
“Okay, you two, let me quickly chat with Juliet and I’ll be over for dinner.”
“She should come for pizza,” Skipper announces. “Juliet, do you want to come?”
Juliet shakes her head. “No, sweetie, but thank you for the invitation. I just needed to drop your uncle’s tablet off—seems we don’t live that far from one another after all.” She’s smiling at me and my gaze goes to her lips.
That mouth.
I remember it well.
Sweet and soft and delicious.