Page 68 of Juliet's Echo

At least that's what I told myself.

Truth was, I just wanted her happy.

Even if we hadn't become as close as we are now, I would've found some way to get that Orbi set to her without her knowing it came from me.

“But we were enemies then,” she whimpered, poking out her bottom lip.

Taking the box from her hands, I placed it on the computer chair and swiftly lifted her into the air. Her legs wrapped around my waist while her hands settled into the back of my head, fingers lazily combing through my curls.

I stared at her, deeply, allowing myself to take in all the things that made up Juliet Everette. Going beneath the surface and falling in love with her charisma, strength and her ability to stand ten toes down on what she believed in.

She was beautiful, yeah, but beauty had never really been my problem. Beauty came naturally to almost every Black woman I'd ever met, regardless of age. The strength to persevere when life becomes heavy. The ability to show up every day well put together, ready to work, ready to nurture, extending grace while simultaneously carrying burdens most people would crumble under. Even when misunderstood. Even when labeled as bratty, obnoxious, difficult, or too much. Somehow, they still found a way to rise.

Juliet embodied all of that and then some.

What got me wasn't her face, even though God clearly took His time there. It was her spirit. The way she moved through life, refusing to let her condition define her. The way she challenged me. The way she loved her family. The way she carried herself with confidence while still allowing herself to be soft with the people she trusted. Every part of her made me want to be better, want to protect her, want to build a life sturdy enough that she never had to question whether someone was in her corner.

I would work as hard as I needed so she doesn't have to. I'll carry whatever burdens she'll allow me to carry, lighten the onesshe won't, and spend every day building a level of emotional security around her that life itself couldn't tear down.

Her eyes softened, and I felt her thumbs brush against the back of my neck.

“You keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” I whispered into her mouth before kissing her.

Shakespeare’s Romeo never got the chance to love his Juliet out loud.

But I damn sure would.

Ava Lennox

If there was one thing my mother feared more than being poor, it was looking poor.

Unfortunately for her, our family’s current bank account status meant she had to repeat outfits more than she liked.

My father, Kip Lennox, thought it was wise to become the face of the country's newest pharmaceutical company, which ended up facing more lawsuits and scandals than OxyContin. Thousands of people were now walking around the United States looking toward the right and left at the same damn time. The insurance company covered the majority of the suits and fines, but every other passive-income area my family was invested in took a hit. Consumers no longer trusted anything tied to the Lennox name.

One minute I was ordering caviar just for photos, and the next I was making sure not to throw away the fries that normally settled at the bottom of the brown paper bag.

“Ava, sit up straight. And don’t you dare twist the cap off that apple juice. Pretend like it’s too hard to open,” my mother instructed.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Faith Lennox hadn’t worked a day in her life.

Well, correction.

She had never been on a taxable payroll a day in her life.

Her job was finessing rich men out of their money, and she never took a day off. Not even in marriage. As profitable as my father was, she knew his investments would eventually be his downfall, so she always kept one money bag hidden in a vault.

Or two.

Or three.

Depending on the expenses for that season.

No woman in her right mind would fault my mother for maintaining financial security, but she could have done it more respectfully. She could have easily picked up a trade, started her own business, or learned proper ways to invest the family’s money. But no. She maintained her lifestyle on her back, and it didn’t matter whose husband or, sometimes, wife she had to sleep with. If they were willing to spend, she was willing to bend.

“Your hair looks amazing today, Princess, and the sun is hitting your eyes perfectly,” she continued, taking another sip of her mimosa. “God gave it to you in all the right places, so use your resources.”