He stopped pacing and stared at her for a moment. Then he clapped his hands. “Very good, Mum. Brilliant performance. Quite the martyr. And you’re so bloody far from perfect, it’s laughable.”

All of the defiance left her, and she dropped to the chaise like a deflated balloon. Placing her fingers to her temples, Pix sighed. “I have such a headache.”

Cal had no sympathy to give her. “Why did Jules come here? How did she get your address?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “From your phone. She said you were going to send her back to California. If anyone understands how difficult your father can be, it’s me. How I lived with that man for eight long years, I’ll never know. Jules is lovely. Very tan, that girl. She’s welcome to stay for as long as she likes.”

Cal pressed his lips together. “She’s not staying, and neither am I.”

“Oh, do sit down. I’m tired of staring up at you. I’ll order us some tea.”

“I don’t want tea.”

“Of course you do. Remember how Babs used to make it? With a little drop of brandy? I miss her too, darling.” A smile drifted over her lips, wistful at the corners.

Cal thrust his hands into his pockets. “She loved you, Mum. She took care of the both of us for years. She devoted her life to us, to you. And you didn’t come to see her once. Not one goddamned time. I’m ashamed of you.” The anger he’d been feeling all day, so scalding it left his throat dry, subsided. Grief crawled its way back to the fore.

“And you better not have filled Jules’s head with a load of bullshit. She’s not staying here. She’s going back to California. She can’t just run away and forget her problems.”

“Like I did?” she asked. “That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Haring off and ignoring my problems.”

“Yeah, Mum, that’s exactly how I see you.” It was how Cal saw himself, and he didn’t like it a bit. He wasn’t sure he could change, wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he desired something better for Jules. He didn’t want her to suppress her personality, as Monica had done. But Cal wanted his sister to channel her gifts and become something wonderful.

Pixie gave him a tearful smile. “You and I are more alike than you care to admit.”

“Possibly.” Cal rubbed his cheeks. He looked at his mum sitting there huddled in on herself, and for once, she looked her age. He always thought of Pix as larger than life, but right now she appeared small, frail almost. “I don’t resent you for dragging me around with you. I don’t. But I’ll never forgive you for abandoning Babcock when she needed you.”

“Darling, you still don’t understand. I would have been useless to her. I can’t even make a decent cup of tea.”

She still didn’t get it. She never would, his mum. “It wasn’t about you. It was about her. Giving her back some of the comfort she’d given you all those years.”

“She would have been comforting me,” Pixie said, “not the other way around.”

Cal slowly shook his head. “You should have been there for her.”

“I’m not strong, Cal. I couldn’t bear to watch her fade away.”

“Then you should have been there for me.” Until the words left his mouth, Cal hadn’t known he’d felt that way. Abandoned. Alone.

He couldn’t stand here and listen to any more of this. He didn’t want her excuses, didn’t want her self-pity. He strode out of the room, his work boots making a dull thud against the white-marbled floor. As he took the stairs, two at a time, he grasped the wrought-iron handrail.

Cal felt out of sync. His chest constricted, and heat prickled his skin. Anger and hurt and confusion and bitterness—all rolled into one jumble. Babcock was gone. His mother cared, but in her own limited way. And it wasn’t enough. Cal wanted something he couldn’t even put a name to. This…lack, it ate at him, leaving him hollow.

At the landing, he heard voices coming from a bedroom down the hall. Cal shortened his steps as he drew near.

“What am I going to do if he kicks me out for good?” Jules’s voice cracked.

“Then you’ll figure it out,” Monica said. “But Cal won’t let you down. You know that, right?”

“He’s never been there for me—why would he start now?”

Jules needed him. She was in a right poor state if he was her go-to person, but he wanted to help her pick up the pieces and start over. Maybe he could start over too.

Cal peeked through the doorway. They sat on the bed, side by side. Monica pulled something from her purse and handed it to Jules. “Call me anytime. Hey, I know your dad is annoying, but it’s because he cares so much.” Cal fought an unexpected smile. She may not advertise it, but Monica Campbell was a nurturer. She gave a damn about people. That was possibly her most endearing quality.

“No, he doesn’t. He just wants to control me.” Jules swiped her nose. “I’m sick of hearing his boring lectures. He’s from the Stone Age, so he thinks he knows everything.”

“The Rolling Stone Age? Your dad’s what, sixty, sixty-five, tops?”

“He may as well be six hundred and fifty the way he carries on.” She adopted a deep voice. “In my day, we went to proper school. In my day, a gap year meant something, not an excuse to pickle your liver. In my day—”

Monica laughed. “Yeah, I get the picture. My sister Allie’s the same way. And living in your dad’s house, eating at his table, you’re kind of asking for it. That’s the way it works.”

“Life rather sucks, doesn’t it?” Jules asked.

Monica nodded and rubbed circles along his sister’s back. “Sometimes. But it beats the alternative.”

Cal cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Monica stood. “There you are.” She glanced down at Jules, who’d lowered her eyes to the floor. “Why don’t I go wait in the car, and if you don’t need a ride, just text me, and I’ll head out.” She gave him a smile on her way to the door.

When Monica was gone, Jules glanced up. “At first I thought she was boring. The clothes threw me.”

“Me too.”

“But she’s nice.”

Cal smiled. “That she is. Let me preface this little talk by saying if you ever pull this crap again, Father’s tirades will seem like a treat. Got it?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just panicked. He hasn’t talked to me in days, Cal. He won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t exist.”

“If you don’t like it, become independent. Get a job and take things on yourself. But if you’re living at his house—”

“I have to live by his rules,” Jules finished. “Mummy says that constantly.”

“And what about your mum? Is all this putting a rift between her and the old man?”

“Maybe. I’m not going back. I mean, I will for the trial, but I won’t stay there with Daddy freezing me out and Mummy pretending it’s business as usual.”

“Jules—”

“No, Cal. My mind’s made up.”

He scanned her face. Behind all that makeup, she was full-on serious. “What do you plan on doing? You have no money—except what you stole from me.” Jules had the decency to blush. “You don’t have a job or a place to stay. You’re due in court next month.”

She studied her shoes as if they were terribly interesting rather than hideous. “No need to keep banging on about my situation. I know I’m up shit creek. But Pixie said I could stay here.”

“No.”

Jules leaped to her feet, squaring off with him. “I can do as I bloody well please.”

“Pixie isn’t fit to look after that dog Paolo totes around. Staying here is simply out of the question.”

“I’m not leaving.” Jules crossed her arms.

Cal growled deeply. Goddamn shit fuck bloody hell. When had his life become so complicated?

“Stay here. If you move, I’ll call Father, tell him where you are, and I’ll throw every one of your stupid pink suitcases in the pool.”

“What? You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, Juliette. Stay. Here.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs. As he passed the living room, he noted Pixie wasn’t perched on her chaise as usual. In fact, the house seemed empty.