“There wasn’t anything to see, really,” she said honestly. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Then he did face her with an odd look. “What are you sorry for?”
“That she still has the power to hurt you. I hate that. I hated to feel how tense you got or to hear in your voice how angry you were. You handled it well, but…I don’t know, Julian, it upsets me to see you hurting.”
Wrong. Thing. To. Say.
Pulling away, he took a few steps back. “I’m not hurting, Charlotte,” he said defensively. “I was annoyed that she showed up where she wasn’t welcome. Again. That’s it. She doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore.”
Oh, if only that were true.
She could argue the point or she could let him come to the realization on his own. Thinking of her conversation with Savannah earlier, she knew she didn’t want to step in and play therapist. That wasn’t who she was to him and it was the last way she wanted him—or anyone—to view their relationship.
“Okay,” she said simply as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry. My mistake.”
That seemed to soothe him because he visibly relaxed. “I don’t want to talk about this any more tonight,” he said as he stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around her. His gaze was intense as he studied her face. “I don’t even want to think about it ever again. The only person I want to think about, the only person who means anything to me, is you. You know that, don’t you?”
In that moment, she did. If she shut her brain off and did as Julian was suggesting and just forgot about their evening, then it was only the two of them.
And for right now, it worked.
It was enough.
Chapter 9
Normally Julian loved the mornings with Charlotte. Even when she had to leave early for work, he loved waking up with her and having lazy conversations in bed before she had to get up and start her day.
Today? Not so much.
Last night had been a complete shit-show, and while he had done everything in his power to push all thoughts of it aside, he couldn’t. And now he couldn’t wait for Charlotte to leave for work so he could just be alone and…think.
So yeah, seeing Dena last night had freaked him out more than he’d thought it would. Why the hell was she in town and how had she found him? They were eating in a place Julian had never frequented, so…how? Why?
It would have been easy to call Mick and see if he had any information, but he was tired of having someone else handle his problems. While he wasn’t ready to pick up the phone and call Dena himself right now, the bigger problem was figuring out why he was still reacting so strongly.
He was happy with Charlotte. Hell, he was in love with Charlotte. So why had it taken three minutes in Dena’s presence for him to feel such blinding rage that he should have been over by now?
“Okay, I’m heading out!” Charlotte said cheerily as she walked into the kitchen to refill her travel coffee mug.
Julian walked over and kissed her until they were both breathless and then smiled down at her. “Have a good day, beautiful.”
Her smile warmed as she leaned into him. “You’re a dangerous man, Julian Grayson.”
He arched a brow at her as he laughed softly. “Me? How come?”
“I normally love my job and I always look forward to the new workday. But when you kiss me like that, all I can think of is playing hooky, or better yet quitting so I can stay here all day like this with you.”
The reality was she could. He knew that. Just like he knew he’d take care of her and her bills and whatever else she needed, because he would love to have her here with him all day, too. But he also knew her too well. She’d go crazy without something to do. Which she immediately confirmed before he could comment on it.
“But there are people who need help finding jobs and I’m just the girl to help them do it.”
Hugging her close, he kissed her again. “Then you better fix your red cape and go help the masses.”
They laughed and he walked her out to the car—which he knew she hadn’t switched over to her name yet, but he wasn’t going to harp on it—and they made plans to see each other after work. Waiting until the car was out of sight, Julian went back into the house and started on some of the things he wanted to do to make up for last night.
First was the florist.
He made arrangements to have a bouquet of wildflowers sent to Charlotte’s office at lunchtime. She had mentioned once how much she loved them and he wanted to surprise her with something pretty to look at while she worked.
Next was the jeweler.
Yeah, he knew she had issues with the last time he’d bought her jewelry, but he felt like he needed a bit of a grand gesture to make up for last night. No doubt she had been embarrassed and confused and maybe even a little angry at the entire situation, and he liked the idea of spoiling her a bit to make up for it.
An hour later he was on the couch staring at the ceiling and wondering what he was supposed to do next. The logical part of him said he needed to cave and call Mick, but he was fighting that for the time being. Or maybe he was supposed to call Dena and just let her say what she had to say and be done with her.
Right, like that was ever going to happen. He’d thought by paying her off she’d stay gone.
Wishful thinking.
And maybe…maybe that was the key right there. For months—years even—Julian had been simply wishing for things to change without doing anything to make it happen. Where his ex was concerned, he always caved and gave her what she wanted in hopes she’d change or their situation would get better. This time he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. He would stand his ground and maybe it would make a difference.
That’s what he was going with as he got up and made himself something to drink, and then went in search of his tablet so he could do a little online house hunting.
He was in a good frame of mind while he searched and the day seemed to speed by. There had been a couple of times when he’d wanted to call Charlotte and see how her day was going—or at least thought she’d call when her gifts were delivered—but he decided that maybe she was waiting to thank him in person.
There was also a random thought or two about why none of the guys had called him. The phone had been suspiciously quiet all day.
It was definitely odd and a little unnerving, but…
The front door slammed open and shut, and it took him a minute to realize it was only three in the afternoon. Charlotte came storming across the room toward him, carrying the flowers and what he guessed was the jewelry box.
“What the hell, Julian?” she cried, tossing the flowers on the coffee table.
And she did not look happy.
Slowly he came to his feet and eyed her warily. Smiling in hopes of defusing the situation, he said, “Hey! How’d you get out so early?”
Nope. Still not happy.
Stepping toward him, she shook the jewelry box. “Seriously, what is this?”
When he’d talked to the jeweler earlier, Julian had told him he was looking for a necklace with aquamarine stones and diamonds. What they’d decided on was a design with a two-carat stone surrounded by diamonds and set in platinum. From the pictures he had received, it was a beautiful piece. It was something he knew Charlotte could wear every day if she wanted to rather than just for special occasions—which was why he was a little perplexed by her reaction.
“A gift,” he replied simply.
“For what?” she demanded with exasperation.
Okay, now they both weren’t happy. With a sigh of frustration, he raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I feel bad about everything that happened last night. I thought everything at the shelter went great and we were having a good time out with everyone and then… It got ruined and I kind of acted like an ass. So I wanted to get you something to make it up to y
ou.”
Her eyes—eyes that were as blue as the aquamarine in her necklace—went wide. “Make it up to me? How about by talking to me and just saying you’re sorry?” Before he could respond, she spoke again. “And you realize what happened last night had nothing to do with you, right? You weren’t the one to kill the mood.”
“Not directly, but it was still about me,” he argued.
She slowly let out a breath and seemed to calm down. “Julian, don’t you get it?” Holding up the jewelry box, she went on. “This? This doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m not with you because of the gifts—they’re beautiful and it’s a nice gesture, but this kind of thing isn’t necessary. I would rather have you talk to me and let me know what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling than get flowers. I want to know what would make you happy because that’s what makes me happy! Do you understand that?”
In a million years, he’d never thought a woman would argue with him for buying her a gift.
“Charlotte, I felt bad about what happened, okay? We covered that last night. If you’re waiting for me to lie down on the couch so you can ask how it made me feel, you can forget it. That’s not going to happen.”
“Okay, wow,” she said with a hint of disgust. “I can’t even believe you went there.”
“Look, all I’m saying is you tend to take a shrink approach to things and you’re looking to counsel and advise, and I’m telling you I don’t need or want that. As for this,” he said, motioning to the box, “it’s a gift and I don’t see what the big deal is!”
“The big deal is you do this—you buy me stuff—rather than talk to me about whatever it is we’re arguing about!”
“So now we’re arguing about last night? Because I thought we’d moved on from that.”
She let out a little scream of frustration and paced away and back again. When she faced him, she took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t need to buy me things, Julian,” she said carefully, enunciating each word precisely.
Maybe no one had ever felt the need to spoil her before, he thought. Maybe that’s why this was such a foreign concept for her. Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Charlotte, I know you don’t need me to buy you things and you’d certainly never ask me to, that’s why I enjoy doing it. If I could, I’d give you everything, don’t you get that? I would give you the sun, the moon, and the stars if I could,” he said earnestly, and he thought he had her. Thought she was finally understanding where he was coming from. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek. “You mean that much to me.”
Her shoulders relaxed and her expression turned just a little sad. “I don’t want the sun, the moon, or the stars. All I want is you, Julian. I want to be able to sit and talk to you about anything and everything without it leading to one of us getting upset and then you buying me a present to make it better.”
“That’s not what’s happening,” he countered.
But she nodded and deep down, he knew she was right.
Dammit.
“It is. If this relationship is going to continue, then there has to be communication, Julian. And that’s not because you think I’m trying to be a therapist or a counselor or anything, it’s because that’s what makes a healthy relationship. I can’t keep going like this—where I have to walk on eggshells, afraid to talk about your life before I met you.”
“But that life is over,” he said earnestly. “I don’t want to look back at it. I need to look forward. You’re my future, Charlotte. Anything that happened before doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does!” she cried softly. “The band, your music, that’s all part of your past and you have to talk about it and deal with it.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re walking away from it.” Then she paused. “No, that’s not right. You’re stopping the guys with one hand and waving them on with the other.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Taking a step back, he couldn’t wait to hear this theory.
Her frustration was obvious. “You tell them you’re finished, you’re not playing anymore, and then you start up this program with the shelter where you get together with them and jam. Don’t you think that’s sending some mixed messages?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t. One has nothing to do with the other. Helping out for charity is one thing, committing to going into the recording studio, making an album, and touring the world is another. And I think the guys all understand that.”
At least…he hoped they did.
They all knew each other so well that Julian just took for granted that Matt, Riley, and Dylan would get where he was coming from. One was charity, one was a job—two completely different things. And while he loved jamming with the guys, and there was still a lot of music in his head that he was jotting down whenever he got the chance, that didn’t mean he would go back and open that door again. It was closed. Permanently. There was no way he was letting anyone take advantage of him again, and when you lived your life in the limelight, the chance of that happening was far too great.
Walking away was the smart choice. The right choice.
“Let me ask you something,” Charlotte said, breaking into his train of thought. “Do you really think that never playing music again on stage is going to make you happy?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Seriously? Julian, you’re entitled to be happy. You had a crappy thing happen to you and it sucked. There. I said it,” she said dramatically. “But that one crappy thing doesn’t have to dictate the rest of your life! Go and play music! Record, tour. Be happy! It’s not a crime!”
“It’s not about being happy!” he yelled, more than ready to be done with this entire conversation. “This is about peace of mind. This is about self-preservation. This is about not being able to trust the people I work with ever again! And if you don’t get that, then that’s your problem! I don’t owe anyone an explanation here, Charlotte! This isn’t about you or the guys or the fans or anyone else except me! I need to be able to sleep at night. Do you think it was easy to know other men were screwing my fiancée? You have no idea how freaking mortified I was every time I walked into a party after one of her affairs was exposed—it felt like everyone was looking at me and pitying me. And the gossip and the laughter—it was emasculating! I won’t do it again. Not even for you!”
Breathless, he realized everything he had just said.
Tears were in her eyes and he felt them down to his very soul. There was no reason to take any of this out on Charlotte—his anger, his frustration, his paranoia—but apparently, until he learned to deal with them himself, she was going to continue to be an unwitting target.
And he knew there was only one thing he could do.
“I think you should go,” he said, his voice thick and low. It hurt to say the words, but he had to.
First one tear fell, then another, and Julian had to hold himself back from reaching out to her. She took a step back and wiped at them herself, then nodded. “I think you’re right.”
While he thought she was going to turn and walk out the door, she actually went toward the bedroom. He stood, dumbfounded, for a moment before following.
And found her packing.
“What are you doing?” His throat was raw and though he knew what he’d asked her to do, for some reason Julian didn’t realize this would be part of it. He wasn’t asking her to leave for tonight, he was asking her to leave. Period.
And damn if that didn’t feel like a knife to his heart.
“I don’t have much here, but I think it’s best if I take it all now,” she said, her voice trembling. “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Charlotte…” he began, but he had no idea what he was going to say after that.
“I’d rather not do this with an audience,” she said quietly
. “Please.”
With a curt nod, he walked out of the room and out of the house. On the back deck, he stared out at the ocean and wondered how everything had gone so wrong. And not just today, but with his life.
Fourteen years ago, he’d come to LA with Shaughnessy and the whole world was wide open to him. He’d made smart business decisions, smart investments, and had toured the world and seen things he’d never thought he’d see. Playing music for millions of fans, winning awards…it had been everything.
Until his own stubbornness had caused him to stop enjoying all the things he’d worked hard for.
Had he loved Dena? Yes. But not for very long.
Did he love music and playing for the fans? Always.
Did he love Charlotte? More than he thought possible.
But it wasn’t enough.
The three months he’d spent on the road had been to clear his head, but it hadn’t. There was still more he needed to do for his own mental health and well-being. Until he got his shit together, he was just creating another toxic relationship.
And Charlotte didn’t deserve that.
Off in the distance he heard the front door close, and his gut clenched. Part of him was thankful she hadn’t come out here to say goodbye. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that. But another part of him wanted to run after her, chase her down and beg her to stay—to love him despite his faults and hang-ups and all-around messed-up view on his life.
He didn’t.
Instead, he stayed where he was and stared out at the water and wished he was anyplace else but here.
* * *
So, this is what hell must feel like.
That was Charlotte’s first thought the next morning when her alarm went off. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten anything, and basically had spent every moment since she’d walked through her apartment door crying.
Her Uber driver had asked her at least a dozen times on the fifteen-minute drive if she was okay, and all she’d been able to do was nod.
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