Page 21 of Love Deep
I pull up outside her house. The light’s on inside, and I figure at eight thirty, her daughter is in bed.
I get out of the truck and look up, and Juniper is on the porch. She offers me a small smile, and it hurts in my gut. Her normal wide, warm smile is tamped down, and I don’t like it.
“Hey,” I say, arriving at the top of the steps to the porch.
“Hey, Fisher. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
She’s sitting on a bench, and she has a glass of wine in her hand. There’s a book on the table beside her, the cover facing down, a bookmark poking out of the top. Her hair is down, and she doesn’t have a scrap of makeup on. She seems so completely herself, and it pulls me in like I’ve never experienced before. But why when I don’t know her?
“I said I’d put you in contact with someone in the art world in New York. I’m a man of my word. I didn’t have your number, because my phone ate it or something, I’m not sure what happened. Anyway, I wanted to drop off Grace’s details to you.”
She narrows her eyes slightly, like she wasn’t expecting me to say what I just said. “That’s very nice of you.”
“I said I’d do it. And so here we are.”
“Here we are,” she says in a mock British accent. She smiles. “But seriously, I know you’re…” She takes in a breath. “Pissed off. Angry. I’m sorry…” Juniper doesn’t meet my eye. “I didn’t lie to you,” she says. “But I’m heartbroken about the fact that Riley wasn’t the first thing you knew about me. She’s the most important thing in my life. I feel like a horrible mother. I obviously got caught up in a silly fantasy for a second there. But this is my real life.” She laughs. “She’smy whole life. And she’s great.”
All my anger and resentment are swept away, and I believe her completely. It’s like something unknots in my stomach, and I can breathe again. I truly believe she wasn’t lying.
“There was no reason to tell me. We’ve met each other twice, and… I get it.”
She laughs, and it’s a deep belly laugh, and it warms something in me.
“Well, I’m not sure you get it, Fisher. But I appreciate it.”
She pats the bench next to her, and I gladly take a seat. Being mad at Juniper felt like swallowing sand when I was expecting caviar. Now, here with her, everything is back to how it should be. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel better when I’m with her than I have for years.
“You want some wine? Beer?”
I shake my head. “I’m driving. I’m not saying no because I’m mad. I’m not. It’s just… I’m… particularly sensitive when I’m caught by surprise by someone.”
“That’s an interesting way to describe yourself. Tell me more, Fisher from New York.”
I pull in a breath. I expected to drive down here, hand her Grace’s contact details, and then head out. I wasn’t expecting to get into this conversation. But I don’t want to leave.
“I suppose I pride myself on reading people. I don’t often get people wrong. And…”
“And you got me wrong,” she says.
It’s not a question, and I get a dull prod in my heart at the timbre of her voice.
I think about it. When I met her, I saw Juniper as a big-hearted country girl who never got out of the small town she had been born in, but if she had, she could have done anything she wanted. She’s talented and likeable, and listening to her talk about art is captivating.
The fact is, I don’t know if I got her wrong. But I didn’t expect her to have a kid.
“I don’t know anything anymore.” I sigh and sit back on the bench, pushing my hands through my hair.
“I’m not a monster,” she says.
“I know. And you’re no pool hustler, either.”
She laughs. It’s light and breezy, and I can’t help but smile at her.
“Can we start again?” she asks.
That’s an easy question to answer. I’d give her the same answer whether I believed she was a liar or not. The thing is, I don’t think she is. I think she’s been living in a small town a long time, and she’s not used to speaking to people who don’t know her story. Or at least the part of her story where she has a kid.
“We can definitely do that.”
