#katesayid

The most Juliet had gotten out of that receptionist was a curt nod. Maybe a polite, somewhat-less-than-friendly hello. This woman strode right up to the counter desk, leaning on it with her arms crossed. Then, she whispered something that made the receptionist laugh heartily. Then, she plunged a hand into the bowl of communal candy on the counter, pulling out a huge fistful.

Instead of feeling bothered by any of those things, Juliet’s eyes simply shot to her, and hung on for dear life. She was gorgeous, sure. Anyone could see that. But it was more than that. She seemed so robust, so vital. All her muscles halfway to coiled, like she was ready to spring into any action required of her.

She wore a pair of dark slacks low on her hips, and a silky, professional-looking blouse. It rode up a few inches as she bowed further over the counter, revealing the edges of what looked like a butterfly tattoo at the base of her spine.

Rachel would have a field day with that one, Juliet thought to herself.

And then there was just one instant, before she remembered she was gone. Then she did, and the memory was a hand around her throat.

She was forgetting like that more and more these days, it seemed. Getting bludgeoned by it in a way she didn’t recall being even in the immediate aftermath, when she’d stumbled through her hollowed-out life like a zombie.

Maybe it was that it wasn’t just Rachel she forgot about now. Twice the impact, from every missed instant.

Tears stung in her eyes, and the woman at the counter finally tore herself from the receptionist’s desk to find her seat—though, not before flashing her a grin that made Juliet’s stomach curdle. She made her way to a seat right across from Juliet’s, who bent her head and hurried to wipe her tears away.

She looked up, and the woman was watching her. Small, sympathetic smile on her face.

It was no grin like the receptionist had gotten, but still it had quite the effect on Juliet’s stomach. A different effect, that brought to mind that tattoo that’d led to her tears in the first place. She tried to smile back.

“Want one?” the woman asked, extending her hand full of candy. From the diagonal, slightly garbled sound of her voice, she must have stuffed several into her mouth already.

Juliet sniffed. “That’s alright.”

“I always hate coming here, too.” She scrunched up her nose. Freckles dotted across it. “Luckily mine’s finalized already—I've just gotta sign off on some error in the paperwork.”

“Oh, no,” said Juliet. “No, um—well, yes. I do hate it. But usually this place doesn’t make me cry until we’ve been arguing for an hour or two.”

The woman laughed. “They should make Hallmark cards for divorce, shouldn’t they? I’ve never needed ‘best wishes’ like I have through all this bullshit. God.” She scoffed, and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how jaded you are with the whole marriage thing—personally, I’m at like, a seven out of ten—but in case you ever decide to do it again, here’s some advice: do not marry a cop.”

Juliet nodded, hummed. “Here’s some from me: don’t marry your boss.”

Another laugh. “Yeah, I think I knew that one.”

“Well, good for you. Guess I’m a slow learner.”

Eyes narrowed at her with a smirk—and god, they were such a lovely, earthy shade of green—peering closely enough that she felt like all her deepest secrets were at risk of being exposed.

“Hm. I doubt that.”

There was a beat of silence, after which the woman’s mouth fell open like she was about to say something.

Then, Juliet’s attorney finally showed her face. Eyebrows up, all her other features pinched together like always.

“Hey—Ed’s just going to conference in. So we can get started.”

“Great,” Juliet said flatly, gathering her purse and setting aside the magazine she hadn’t really read. She turned to the woman, who was still looking at her. Mouth closed again, but her gaze was expectant.

And for one reason or another, all Juliet wanted was to meet her expectations.

“I’m Juliet, by the way.”

“Kate,” said the woman, reaching out her candy-free hand.

Juliet took it, and held on a moment longer than she needed to. Once she’d dropped it she kept standing there, looking down at Kate. And Kate kept sitting there, looking up at her.

Pointed clear of the throat from her attorney, and it snapped Kate out of the trance, at least.

“Here,” she said, digging in her purse for a moment. Then she pulled out a business card, and handed it over. “In case you want any more advice.”

Juliet peered at the card. Kate Austen, photographer for the Herald. She let her own eyes skirt over Kate Austen, taking her all in. Imagining her springing into action with a camera in hand, and what a beautiful sight that must be.

“Thanks—I’m sure I’ll need it.”

The last thing she wanted to do was walk away, but she decided she’d rather not learn what came from her attorney after the pointed throat clearing. She’d probably have to pay dearly for whatever it was.

Instead, Juliet got paid herself. With a huge grin of her own, thrown her way by Kate when she looked back one last time. Far it stretched across her face, enclosed by dimples that mirrored across her face like two parentheses.

She drank it like medicine, and the conference call with Ed flew by. Then later, she bit her lip while she dialed the number on Kate’s card, and the line picked up after one ring.

“Hello?” she chirped.

“Hey, it’s me.”

Before she could even apologize for forgetting to say her name—let alone say it—Kate kept going. Breathing out her words like a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god.”