“I would never mention you. I’d say it was my imagination.”
He frowned. “I figured it out after the first chapter.” He raised a hand, putting it between them, like he wanted to stop them coming together. “This is the problem with you, Julia. Denial. Big time. When you’re ready to own who you are and what you really want, then we can finally be together. In a real, loving relationship. Not just fantasy fucking.”
“I don’t deserve love!” she cried, and before he could agree with her, she raced out the door.
“Julia!” he called. “Dammit!”
She kept going, down the stairs, out the front door, wanting nothing more than to drive off alone, but when she got to the parking lot, she stopped, her own distress fading in light of the heart-wrenching sight of the bride, Ally, alone and sobbing against a giant oak tree.
She did an about-face and headed over to Ally. “Hey,” Julia said gently. “Are you okay?”
“He left.”
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. Did he say why?”
“I told him to go. If I can’t have a love like Damon and Mia, then I don’t want it.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s just fiction. A fantasy.”
“That’s passion.” She wiped her eyes, carefully rubbing the mascara from under them. “I miss it. What I had with Mark wasn’t close to what I used to have with Dean.”
She knew it! Ally couldn’t possibly be over Dean so quickly. They’d dated for four years and Ally had leapt head over ass into her relationship with Mark rather than deal with her grief over the loss of Dean. Julia was sort of an expert on the wallowing in grief thing. “Have you talked to Dean?”
Ally sniffled. “He has a girlfriend. It’s too late! I’m screwed! I’m never getting married!”
She put an arm around her and squeezed. “You’re young! You’ve got plenty of time to meet someone. Really. There’s no rush.”
“All of my friends are getting married!” Ally wailed.
“I’m older than you, and I’m not getting married.”
“That’s different. You had your bride moment.”
Julia bit her lip; the words stung. She had her moment, all right, and it sucked.
“I’m sorry,” Ally said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not thinking clearly right now.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re right. I had my moment. You’ll have yours. Just not today.”
Hailey stormed past, muttering to herself, not seeming to notice them. She got into her bright orange Mini Cooper convertible and sped out of the lot.
“I guess Hailey’s upset the wedding didn’t happen,” Ally said.
“I’m sure there will be many more weddings in Clover Park for her to plan in the future,” Julia said.
“Or she’ll make them happen,” Ally said with a watery smile.
They laughed.
“That does seem to be the way she’s heading,” Julia said. “You want me to drive you home?”
“No, I can do it. Thanks for listening.”
Julia hugged her. “Hey, I give you a lot of credit. I wish I’d had the courage to be a runaway bride.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I was way too young. Nineteen. I was a complete moron, actually.”
Ally laughed. “Never. Julia Turner is anything but a moron. You’re so put together.”
“I’m glad you think that, but I’m just…that’s just the outside. I’m a mess. Hell, I had a spiritual epiphany from a decluttering book.”
“I had an epiphany from the Fierce trilogy!”
Julia’s smile dropped as her part in this disaster hit home. “Yeah. I guess you did. Take care, Ally.”
“Thanks, you too.” Ally hugged her again and headed to her car. Julia watched Ally walk briskly through the parking lot, the veil flying out behind her, in considerably better shape than Julia would’ve been.
Julia headed for her car. Now what kind of epiphany was the Fierce trilogy going to give her? If only it could. That was the problem with being the creator of the stories. She was too close to see anything clearly.
Chapter Seventeen
Julia’s thoughts ping-ponged all week on the movie deal. On the one hand, total financial freedom—Milly had gotten the movie people up to 4.5 million. On the other hand, was it really fair to Angel? Because even if she gave him half the money for being her inspiration, he’d still have to deal with the fallout. She hadn’t seen him all week, and he’d avoided her at work too. She feared he really was done with her. She replayed their fight at Ally’s wedding over and over. He was sick of her and all her issues.
By Saturday she found herself slumped on the sofa, staring at the picture of the three of them—her and Brad and Angel—hoping somehow to find an answer there. She put her hand over Brad. She blinked. She’d never noticed before that she was leaning against Angel’s side. There she was squeezed between the two men yet subtly drawn to Angel.
Suddenly she heard Angel’s voice in her head you want me, you have to come get me, and she realized he’d avoided her this week not because he was done with her, but because he wanted her to take the initiative and go to him. To own what she really wanted. And what she wanted was him. That was what all this Damon-Mia stuff was about. It wasn’t just petty jealousy that inspired her fantasy, it was her very real desire to be with him. Why did it take her so long to figure that out? She set the frame back on the shelf, grabbed her coat and purse, and headed to Angel’s apartment. It was a former art studio behind a large contemporary-style home. She hadn’t been there in a while. He usually went to her place because it was bigger. And ever since she learned Brad had stashed another letter in the baseball card collection he left in Angel’s care, she’d avoided visiting. But now all that mattered was seeing Angel.
She knocked on the door and waited, suddenly nervous at what kind of reception she’d get from him.
No answer. Maybe he was still at his Saturday morning tutoring session. She checked the time. He should be back soon. It was nearly noon. She waited in her car on the street out front because it was still cold outside. As soon as she saw his car pull in the driveway, she got out and followed behind him.
He stepped out of his car in his black leather jacket, worn jeans, and briefcase full of papers, and her heart surged with love.
“Hi,” she called.
He turned, not seeming surprised to see her. Had he noticed her car and then kept going? He must still be mad at her. “Hey,” he said flatly.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.” He opened the door and gestured for her to go in. The apartment was mostly one large space with a kitchen separated by a half wall. Sunlight streamed through the large windows and two skylights. The furniture was simple and functional—a wood dining table with wicker chairs, a futon sofa that pulled out into a bed, an old trunk for a coffee table, and a TV on a small stand.
She dropped her purse and took in his familiar features, so dear to her, yet so closed against her. And that was when she knew what she had to do. “I’m not doing the movie. I’m turning it down.”
“Why not?” he asked in a carefully neutral tone.
“I don’t want to put you or your job at risk. You were right. It was my own denial that made you into an erotic fantasy because I couldn’t deal with my feelings for you in real life.”
He crossed his arms, and her chest tightened. He was so distant. Had she lost him for good?
“So you have feelings?” he finally asked.
“Yes,” she croaked out over the lump in her throat.
“And how long have you had these feelings?”
Her eyes got hot. “I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life,” she whispered.
“Julia.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”
“I’m so sorry I ruined everything.”
He stroked her hair. “Things got fucked up, but we’re here together.” He tilted her chin up to
look at him and kissed her gently. “It’s not too late.”
She threw herself against his chest, hugging him tightly. “I thought I lost you.”
“You could never lose me. Don’t you know that by now? You’ve got my heart.” He kissed the top of her head. “I was just giving you some tough love.”
“It worked.”
He pulled back. “Listen, I want you to do that movie. They’re probably offering a lot of money, right?”
“Four point five million.”
He staggered back. “Whoa. You were going to leave that on the table for me?”
She nodded.
He grabbed her and spun her around. “Take it! We’ll live together off the money. I won’t have to be a social worker. You won’t have to be a teacher. I know you always dreamed of being an author.”
“But what would you do?” she asked.
“Maybe I’ll go back to school and get my PhD in psychology. Or maybe I could be your manager. Handle the public for you. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”
“And you don’t mind if people think you’re Damon?”
“Hell, it’s a compliment. I’m a fucking stallion.”
She laughed. “But I thought you were worried what people would think of you.”
“As a social worker with sensitive client information on kids. But if I do something else, maybe working with adults, or just working with you, it’ll be fine.”
Hope surged through her heart. “Where would we live?”
“Here. Home. We’ll buy a house together.” He gestured around him. “This place is too small for a big-time author.”
She glanced around at his studio apartment, neat as ever. Her gaze caught on the old trunk Angel used as a coffee table. He’d had that trunk back at college too, which reminded her of Brad’s letter. She needed to get that out of the way. “Do you still have Brad’s baseball card collection?”
He suddenly looked wary. “Yeah, why?”
“There’s a letter in the bottom of the box. We’re supposed to read it together.”
Angel let out a long sigh. “Julia.”
“Never mind. We don’t have to read it.”
“I just don’t want you going off the deep end again. I finally got you to admit you have feelings for me.”
“I love you.” Her entire body tingled, giddy with the love she felt and could finally express. She smiled widely and burst out in a laugh at the wonder of it all.
Angel beamed and gave her a quick hug. “I love you too. Alright. I’ll read the letter. And if I think it won’t upset you, I’ll give it to you to read too. Deal?”
She nodded. She trusted Angel to look out for her. The last thing she wanted was another bomb dropped on her from Brad. Last time he’d confessed he’d lied about being adopted. What would he say next? Hey, guess what? I was gay all along. She really couldn’t handle any more confessions.
Angel went straight to the trunk and opened it. Whoa. It was like she’d sensed the letter was in there. He pulled out a cardboard box, closed the trunk, and set it on top. His mouth tightened almost imperceptibly before he opened the box and took out the preserved baseball cards that were probably worth something by now. Finally, he muttered, “Fucking A.”
He carefully retrieved the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a picture and a letter on the same lined paper as the other two letters. Angel sank to the sofa and stared at the picture. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. What was it? Angel set the picture face-down on the sofa and unfolded the letter. She watched his expression as he read, looking shell-shocked. She bit her lip. It must be bad.
She couldn’t stand the suspense. “What is it?”
“C’mere.”
She sat at his side, and he handed her the picture. Oh! It was her and Angel on New Year’s Eve. Angel had kissed her on the cheek, and Brad had snapped the picture as she beamed, eyes closed, taking it in. The love between her and Angel was clear as day. “I remember this. Our first New Year’s. Brad was so drunk.”
“Read the letter,” he said, his voice gravelly.
She set the picture back on the trunk and took the letter from his hand. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Angel wouldn’t let her get hurt anymore over this. But he seemed so shell-shocked. Angel put a reassuring hand on her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze. She opened her eyes and read:
Dear Julia and Angel,
Surprise, you cheating rat bastards! I knew. I always knew. When I got back to school after that long bout with mono, Angel made himself scarce. Not easy to do given we had two classes together, and a dead giveaway. And, Julia, you were so sad, though you tried to hide it. And neither of you would tell me what the hell happened. I put two and two together. Give each other a good hard glare from me. There. Feel better? Yeah, I was pissed, but I forgave you, both of you, because I knew Angel wanted you from the start, and I moved in on you anyway. Julia, I’ve always been a screwup, but I wanted to be the man you deserved, so I joined the army. I wanted to be what Angel was all along—strong, steady, everything done out of some deep good place inside like I wished I had. I know you liked my pretty face and my pretty patter, but it was always a sham. A cover-up for what I lacked. I asked Angel to look after you if I didn’t make it back. I know if you’re reading this, he did. Thank you, Angel, from the bottom of my heart. I can never repay you for all that you’ve done. I bought the house in Fieldridge so Julia could stay close to you. I wanted you to be together (if I was gone). I love you guys. Maybe now you’ll have the chance to be the matched set you were always meant to be.
Love,
Brad
P.S. Kiss her, pretty boy! And take the money from the sale of the Fieldridge house and buy your own house together. Fuck, do I have to do everything?
She slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe it. He knew. All those years he knew, and he forgave them. Angel’s eyes were watery. She threw her arms around him, and they just held each other as the sun streamed through the skylight above them, bathing them in healing afternoon light.
After a while, the sun on Julia’s cheek burned, unusual for February. She glanced at the sky, where a few sunbeams shone through the clouds like a hand reaching down from heaven. Maybe it was Brad in one last goodbye. She buried her face in Angel’s chest. Even Brad knew they were a matched set. Soul mates.
Finally she lifted her head to gaze into the eyes of the man she loved. Angel kissed her tenderly and cupped her face with both hands. “My Julia, finally and at long last, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she cried and then they were kissing, and the rest was a hot blur of clothes flying. They fell to the sofa, the letter fluttering to the floor, freeing them to be together as they were always meant to be.
Epilogue
Angel was eager to bring Julia to Sunday family dinner the next day. Finally he wouldn’t be the only bachelor in his band of besotted brothers. Finally he could make the love of his life a permanent part of the family. If only Julia would finally pick an outfit.
“What do you think of this?” she asked, appearing in the living room in her fifth outfit of the night. She wore the soft dark blue sweater he loved because of the way it clung to her breasts and a gray skirt. The skirt could’ve been a little tighter but…
“Perfect,” he said.
She fluttered her hands in the air. “No. I saw your face when you looked at the skirt. This won’t do.” She turned and went back into the bedroom.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Julia,” he called, “we’re going to be late. All of those outfits were perfectly fine.” He knew she was nervous, but, at this rate, they were going to miss dinner completely. She’d met everyone at Luke’s wedding, but she hadn’t actually said more than the briefest of greetings both because she was embarrassed about the Emily situation and because everyone had been so busy dancing and celebrating.
She marched back out in just the sweater and some matching blue panties that h
ad him perking up. “This is important! I’m sure they’re going to have a lot of questions about me and are wondering why we haven’t been together after all these years.” She bit her lip. “They’ll probably feel sorry for me for being a widow—”
“Stop.” He stood and crossed to her. “They’re going to love you.” He kissed her long and deep until she melted against him. He pulled away and met her dark blue eyes. “No one’s going to ask you any hard questions, I promise.”
She hugged him tight. “Did you warn them I’m the author of the Fierce trilogy?”
“No. That’s up to you when you want to tell people.”
She pulled away. “I’ll wait until the last possible minute.”
“No-o-o, that doesn’t sound like you,” he teased.
She pursed her lips. “For both our sakes. If the movie really happens, and Milly thinks it will, we can both give notice, finish out the school year, and then tell everyone.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
She brightened. “It does, doesn’t it? We should get married in June when the school year ends.”
“Done.”
She beamed and went back to the bedroom to change. A few moments later she emerged, still wearing the clingy blue sweater with a form-fitting black skirt.
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Perfect! I love it!”
Her eyebrows shot up at his unusual enthusiasm for her outfit. He never cared what she wore. If he had his way, she’d be naked all the time. But now, they really had to go. He took her by the hand and pulled her to the door.
“Wait, my coat!” she said. “I need the nice one.”
He snagged the long black wool coat and her purse where he’d already left it by his coat and ushered her out the door.
“You would have liked whatever I put on next, wouldn’t you?” she asked once they were in the car.
He gave her a devilish smile. “I always just imagine you naked, so it really doesn’t matter.”
Her cheeks colored pink, which he found adorable, knowing her complete abandon in the bedroom. He gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth. “We’re outta here.”
A Tempting Friendship (Clover Park #10) Page 19