Arwen so terrifying when she was perfectly . . . fine?
Shit, shit, shit. This was what happened. One little crack, and the whole building comes down.
Juliet stood. Her legs felt shaky, and her hair looked greasy. There were circles under her eyes.
That faint would’ve been welcome. A little nap.
Instead, she went to her computer and Googled “how to become a smoke jumper in Montana.” Very conveniently, the U.S. Forest Service was hiring. So she would need a little experience fighting wildland fires. She’d get it. Juliet was in great shape. She liked heights and fires (though more of the bonfire/fireplace type). She was brave—always the first to jump in the water, or try waterskiing or leap off the platform while zip-lining. She was an adrenaline junkie who had just emerged from hiding in her closet.
The idea of being far, far away doing heroic things had such pull, such promise. Her sister Sadie would probably do it. Move to Montana, be handed a job, meet a cowboy who happened to also be a billionaire and spend the rest of her life traveling and getting massages on various beaches, because that’s how life unfolded for Sadie. Juliet worked and planned for everything; Sadie skipped off to New York City, doing things in the most irresponsible, unplanned, carefree way possible. No money? No problem. I can waitress! I can work in a tattoo parlor! I’m an artist, you see. Things are different for us, since we’re pure and superior. No career? No worries! Something will come along. In the meantime, look at this hovel I’m living in after Mom and Dad remortgaged the house to put me through college!
In typical Sadie fashion, she got a cute little job at a cute little school and somehow started earning money on paintings that allowed her to buy a cute little apartment and then found a cute wealthy boyfriend. Sadie never had to work for a thing. Juliet worked every fucking day, every fucking minute. Did people think Oliver just saw her and fell in love? Oh, no. She had to work for him. The guy was absolutely wonderful—handsome and charming and smart and kind and funny—and everyone had wanted him. Juliet had taken one look at him and thought, Game on. She’d had to earn him, which she had.
All work, all the time, every part of her life. Me time? Please. Juliet brought work with her on every weekend away, every vacation. She took a bubble bath for effect, only when Oliver had come home from a trip, and she’d run the bath and sprinkle flower petals in and light candles the way no one ever did in real life, and it was all for seduction, to say, “Sure, we’ve been married for fifteen years, but I’m still a voracious sex beast, you betcha!” Long walks on the weekends or after school were to incorporate health and outdoor time into the girls’ lives, even if Juliet’s brain was fogged with all the work she had to do to earn that fat salary, how late she’d have to work to make up the time spent walking, how to help Sloane catch up on reading and make gluten-free, peanut-free, dairy-free cupcakes for Sloane’s class and later have sex with Oliver so he wouldn’t forget he loved her, or take Mom out to dinner because she deserved it, or plant flowers in the front yard because Oliver’s British mother loved gardens and had once said a house without a garden is a house without a soul, and then what about the mentorship thing she’d promised to do for Yale, and the workshop (not keynote) she was giving at the annual American Institute of Architects conference on risk management (not the sexy one Arwen was doing on “breaking boundaries”) and right, their cleaning lady had moved and Juliet hadn’t found another one yet so she had to clean the house because she liked things tidy and couldn’t relax if things were messy.
“Shit,” she said aloud. “Next time, faint, you idiot.”
She left her closet, intending to take a shower, but there was her phone, buzzing on the desk of her study.
Mom. She always took calls from Mom.
“Sweetheart,” her mother began, “I’m real sorry to have to tell you this, but your dad’s been in an accident, and he’s hurt. Real bad. I’m on my way to Lawrence and Memorial.”
Her heart thudded hard, rolling in a sickening wave—once, twice, three times.
“I’m on my way,” Juliet said, her voice firm. “Hang in