𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 ━ shawn hunter¹

23│THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY ( CAME BACK )

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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ
ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ( ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ) ꒱


❝ WAKE UP & SMELL THE
PLAGUE, WOULD YOU? ❞

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Juliet sat outside on the pool deck of the villa her family was staying in during their vacation. The lounge chair she rested under was one of the many that sat around the rectangular space and was well-shaded by a blue-and-white umbrella. A short table sat next to her with a water bottle and melting mint-chocolate-chip ice cream resting on it. Where the pale cement of the pool area ended, the edge of bright green grass began and stretched out to the nearby house. Surrounding the area were picturesque gardens that would be found on the cover of travel magazines. Despite the many seats surrounding the pool, though, Juliet was alone except for the nearly-finished Tuesdays with Morrie she was reading.

Daly joined her soon enough and she was looking far more relaxed and youthful than Juliet had ever seen her. She seemed to be more like the up-and-coming Broadway actress she had been rather than the exhausted, paycheck-to-paycheck mother the redhead knew her as. The older woman smiled at her daughter in greeting and pulled a chair over to sit next to her. They both winced at the scraping sound it made.

"How are you doing, darling?" Daly asked as she took in her daughter's pinned-up red hair, airy white dress and sunglasses that were perched on her head.

"Pretty good. I'm almost done," she raised her book in indication. "Not my favorite, unfortunately. The older man sounds a little too much like Mr. Feeny."

Her mother gave her an amused look. "People like Mr. Feeny are where writers get their ideas for those characters."

"I can tell," Juliet said dryly, "anyway, I'm trying to finish this before I have to get ready for dinner. Did you need something?"

"Yes," Daly admitted hesitantly, "I wanted to ask something of you."

"Alright."

The older woman shifted awkwardly and cleared her throat before she started: "I'd like you to have dinner with us tonight."

"Mom—"

"I know," Daly interrupted her protests, "I know you don't trust your— well, Barron yet, and I don't blame you. We've only recently restarted our friendship too, you know, but I think having dinner together as. . . a family would make your father very happy. You could even get to know him. I'm not saying you have to call him dad or anything, but just. . . talk to him. I don't think he's as bad as you're making him out to be."

Juliet bit back an acidic retort about her mother having misperceptions due to past relationships. She was trying to be more accepting, at least just so the vacation would go more smoothly— she couldn't run away to Topanga's or Shawn's, after all— but it was proving to be quite difficult. Instead, she sighed. "Do I have to?"

Her mother leaned across the gap and rested a hand on her daughter's arm to give the girl a serious look. "I think he'd really like it. You can make your own decisions, though. You are almost a grown woman, after all." Her expression softened at the end and she gave her arm a gentle squeeze before she stood. "I just thought I should bring that up before dinner. I won't keep you from finishing your book."

"Nothing could keep me from finishing my book," Juliet replied, trying to ignore the guilt that had crept up from her mother's words.

Daly shot her a devious smile as she turned away. "Not even. . . Shawn?"