Where would I go?
Jules looked carefully at the first question on her list of considerations, which was six items long and already made her want to tear out her hair.
Even worse, she kept getting interrupted. It was nine thirty in the morning and Vivian had left the townhouse an hour ago to attend a star-studded breakfast. Jules was already being bombarded with texted questions and requests from all corners. Most of them started off with a cursory apology for disturbing her, then launched into something complicated. All of which left Jules with little time to figure out something important enough to turn her life upside down.
For example, where she’d go and what she’d do if she left Du Jour.
She could find something. Monique Leung’s offer proved it. If someone wanted to hire Jules all the way from London, she could get a job in New York. Once people established that she wasn’t leaving because of any bad blood with Vivian Carlisle, they’d be interested in her. That wasn’t the issue.
She chewed on her lower lip. The issue was that, even aside from her feelings for Vivian, she loved Du Jour. It was the holy grail of fashion. She got to be where things happened, doing what she was good at.
Hell, she didn’t even like having the day off, as much as she appreciated the gesture. Yes, she needed time to think, but she loved being in the thick of things.
She and Vivian were alike in that.
Jules sighed and rested her hand on her cheek. She was ensconced in the living room armchair in her pajamas because, if she had to sit out a whole day of Fashion Week, she was going to be comfy doing it. Vivian had said so.
I should be with her, Jules thought. At her side. They’re probably screwing things up without me.
As if it were a sign, she got another text, this time from Keisha.
do u know where Charlotte is
Jules sighed, opened her schedule app, found Charlotte’s calendar, and texted back:
Phoebe English show
Keisha replied:
Thanks, hope u feel better soon!!
Right. Back to figuring out her life. Jules returned to her list.
V’s pregnancy
Yeah. That was a big one. Vivian hadn’t even mentioned it earlier, and Jules’s head had been spinning too much to give it serious thought. But Vivian was having a baby. She was due in mid-July, and it was now the end of February. Although Jules had always seen children in her future and she loved kids, she’d never planned on being a mom in her midtwenties.
Would she be a mom? Was that even something Vivian wanted from her? She’d said she wanted to spend time with Jules, but once the baby was born, any extra time would go out the window. If Jules left Du Jour and wasn’t involved in the child’s life, she’d never see Vivian. So what would even be the point?
Making things even more complicated, when Jules thought about the baby she felt a sweet ache in her heart. She’d been there since the beginning, after all. She’d arranged the doctors’ appointments, managed Vivian’s menus, seen to her comfort, and she knew—knew for a fact—that if she stayed at Du Jour, pretty soon she’d be ordering furniture for a nursery. Plus finding a list of nanny candidates. Getting baby clothes and toys. And she’d love every second of it. It was the easy part, the part without midnight feedings and temper tantrums, but it was there nevertheless.
She imagined holding the baby while it smiled up at her. Her cheeks warmed, and a little squeal left her mouth before she could stop it.
Then she got herself together. She couldn’t afford to be silly or sentimental about something this big. It was definitely a talk-more-to-Vivian moment. Time for the next item on the list.
Discretion
Not as big as pregnancy, but still pretty big. Even if Vivian was divorced, even if Jules wasn’t working for her anymore, discovery would raise a stink. People would call Vivian a cradle robber. And they’d accuse Jules of trying to sleep her way to the top, which was pretty rich after Vivian’s accusations about Monique. Ironic too, considering:
No sex?
Jules looked at the two words as if they weren’t English. When it came to her feelings for Vivian, “no” and “sex” didn’t belong next to each other. Everything Vivian had described to Jules sounded wonderful: companionship, care, prioritizing each other. It called to her as nothing ever had in any other relationship.
However, all of this had been kick-started by Jules’s lust for Vivian on New Year’s Eve. She couldn’t just will that away, and why should she? Jules liked sex. It had been the best part of her relationship with Chelsea, the only reason they’d stayed together for four months. She liked the physical closeness, the sense of connection, and she wanted that in her life. Just because she was wild about Vivian in other ways didn’t mean she was okay with being celibate at nearly twenty-six.
Her phone pinged with another text. She groaned.
It was Simon. He’d sent her a text that was just four green-faced nausea emojis. Then he followed it up.
Sorry you’re sick. Got everything you need?
Aw. Jules smiled. No, she didn’t have everything she needed, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get it, but it was nice of him to ask. She replied:
I’m good, thanks ♥
OK. Feel better soon.
Jules sent the thumbs-up emoji, propped her chin on her hand, and regarded her phone. Simon was kind to reach out, but every time her phone had alerted her this morning, she’d hoped it was Vivian. She knew it wouldn’t be—Vivian was giving her space—but it was weird not to communicate with her. Even during the weekends, texts would fly back and forth between them.
Jules missed her.
“Ugh, get it together,” she muttered. “It’s been, like, two hours.”
What about my family?
What, indeed? Jules’s parents were already afraid Vivian was up to no good with Jules. It wouldn’t matter that Vivian was proposing a relationship entirely devoid of sex, much less sexual predation. They’d still say Vivian was exploiting her, and they’d think Jules was nuts even for considering it.
They might be right. She looked at the last item. On a list of questions that seemed impossible to answer, this one was the hardest.
What do I want?
She was young. Free. She had ambition. That last part had killed her previous relationship. How would a relationship survive when both parties were workaholics, to say nothing of having a child in the mix? Something would have to give, and what would that be? It might be something Jules wasn’t willing to surrender.
Everyone always said to go with your gut instead of your head or heart. The gut, they said, never lies. But what if Jules’s gut was just as confused as the rest of her?
After all, it was begging her not to let Vivian get away, which was the least sensible solution possible.
What did Jules want?
And when she figured it out, what if it was something she didn’t need? Something that could wreck her in the end? People didn’t always want what was best for them. So far, Jules’s desires and goals had played well together. She’d always known what she wanted, and it had worked beautifully for her until now. And now…
Jules dropped her phone on the side table, rested her head back against the armchair, and stared up at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling. Crown molding and everything.
List making only went so far. So did listening to her gut. This decision couldn’t be a one-woman show. She needed more information. I’ve got to talk to her.
Her phone pinged. Jules’s breath caught. Was it Vivian?
Charlotte.
do u know where Keisha is
Jules groaned and covered her face with her hands. It was four thirty a.m. back home. In either time zone, it was too early to start drinking.