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Leaving all the destruction that she’d wrought behind.
Silence settled over the room. There were a few last sales rung up at the register, a few last looks cast, but quickly the party was over, the shop empty of all but the sisters and the three men.
To Noah, the only one in the place was Juliet.
Even obviously upset, she’d never looked more beautiful—and more unattainable. Her sisters were close to her; Nikki had brought her coffee, but she hadn’t taken a sip.
She hadn’t looked at him.
Finally, she spoke, her gaze fixed on something only she could see. “That day, that day I went to the spa, you didn’t really think it was Wayne’s last day.”
Juliet had been nearly impossible to pry from the general’s side. She’d complied during mealtimes, but for months, the rest of her day—except that day—had been exclusively devoted to her husband. The spa certificate the general had bought for her last birthday was months old.
“Yeah, I did.” Noah shut his eyes, remembering the wasted figure in the bed, the general’s stoic attitude toward his pain, the calm way he’d come to terms with dying. On that day, his last desire had been to prevent his wife’s further suffering and it had been what Noah wanted, too. “I did think it was.”
“But it was you who persuaded me to have a day at that spa. I remember it perfectly. You encouraged me to leave Wayne’s bedside. I wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t insisted.”
Noah opened his eyes and saw that Juliet had moved farther from him. If he put out his hand, it wouldn’t reach her. “It was what he wanted.”
“Wanted?” she snapped back. “It was that he considered me too fragile to handle it. And you, you thought he was right about that, too.”
She’d gone from stunned to something else. Angry? Aching? Some miserable combination of the two? He didn’t know how to fix it. Pushing a hand through his hair, he sighed. “That wasn’t—”
“Don’t give me that,” she interrupted, her voice hot. “You could have reasoned with him; you could have refused. At the very least, you could have given me some sign of what you suspected would happen that day.”
“Juliet…”
Her gaze narrowed on his face. “Did you think I was strong enough to stay at his side? Do you think Wayne was wrong?”
He thought it was the most heroic thing the general may have ever done—to meet the end of his life without the love of his life next to him. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but her blue and green eyes were a bicolored lie detector and there was really nothing to be gained by bull-shitting now. He’d already lost her. “No.”
She jerked, as if the word was a blow.
At that sign of her pain, he found himself trying to leap the chasm between them anyway. “Juliet.”
But she was already retreating farther from him, her outstretched hand shoring up the very air between them. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
God help him, the insistence in her voice didn’t stop him. He had to try one last time to reach her, he was that stupid in love. “Juliet, what we’ve had together—”
“Was nothing. Any warm body would do.”
He ignored the sting of that and edged closer. “Juliet. Honey.”
“I said I don’t want you near me.”
“Fine.” Halting, he shoved his hand through his hair again. “Later, when we’re back at the house—”
“There won’t be a later, Noah.” Her expression was set, her beautiful mouth compressed in a tight line. “You’re fired.”
He froze. Two words. A single killing shot that dismissed him as well as the relationship they’d developed over these weeks of friendship and intimacy. You’re fired.
Who the hell knew why it felt like such a damn surprise? Because no matter how he’d tried to fool himself otherwise, he’d never believed it would ever last—the officer’s wife and the enlisted guy.
He raised stiff fingers to his forehead and sent her a military salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
And like that, his tour of duty was over.
Nineteen
In war, truth is the first casualty.
—AESCHYLUS
Juliet tidied the area around the cash register, Cassandra slid skeins into bins, and Nikki perused a stack of wedding magazines that she’d brought with her instead of her half-finished fiancé sweater. “I knew nobody would come tonight,” she said, frowning at a slick page. “But still I had hope, even though it’s almost Thanksgiving. I really need wedding advice and the knitters are always ready to offer some up.”
