JULIAN
“Hey, you made it!” Bridge walked around the table and slapped me on the back with one hand and then pulled me in for a hug I was ninety-nine percent sure was going to end up in multiple tabloids.
I understood Keaton’s reservations.
Didn’t mean it didn’t burn or make me want to throw something.
“Yup.” I hugged him back quickly and took a seat across from my ex-fiancée and my brother.
Had there ever been a more awkward third wheel?
Doubtful, highly doubtful.
I was ready to wave down the waiter and let him know to keep them coming when a drink appeared at my elbow.
“Bridge, know that I mean this with every fiber of my being—thank you for using twin sync, reading my mind, and ordering me alcohol.” I threw back the glass of fine whiskey and was ready to hug him again when he and Izzy both gave me a funny look. “What?”
“Our waiter hasn’t stopped by yet.” Izzy grinned and then hid behind her menu.
“Izzy, if you set me up on a blind date, I’m going to officially lose my shit. I’ve been typing a love story that I’m not part of all day every day, falling for a woman who refuses to see me in public, and all I want is to get through dinner, preferably drunk so I can go home and repeat the torturous process.”
Izzy’s smile was so big I was almost nervous.
Bridge looked equally excited.
“What?” I huffed.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned and nearly fell out of my chair as Keaton, in the black dress I’d purchased for her, pulled out a chair and sat down. “Not really a blind date if you already know the person, right, Julian?”
My smile was currently taking up my entire face. “You came.”
“No thanks to you.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “I had to call Izzy to find out what restaurant I’d need to crash. Thankfully she called me back right away and offered her firstborn if only I’d show up and order you whiskey.”
Bridge let out a snort while Izzy burst out laughing. And then Bridge elbowed Izzy. “You didn’t really offer up our child?”
Izzy just patted his hand and rolled her eyes, reminding me why they were better for each other from the start, reminding me why we only ever had friendship and a tumultuous relationship where neither of us was ever fully satisfied but constantly trying to be something we weren’t.
I could have sworn in that moment, Izzy knew the direction of my thoughts. She nodded her head slightly and lifted her water glass in silent acknowledgment of something I refused to decipher, but it felt a hell of a lot like waving a white flag and shouting, “Peace.”
The waiter arrived before I could say anything, and then Keaton’s hand was on my thigh, squeezing.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled and covered her hand, giving a return squeeze. She quickly let go, but it was enough for me to think that maybe this was a baby step in the right direction.
Both of us appearing in public meant nothing.
But to me it meant something.
It meant people would wonder.
It also meant that I would have to control myself when all I wanted to do was throw her onto the table and kiss her senseless for coming.
My eyes greedily scanned the menu, reading everything, understanding nothing, because I was too focused on the woman sitting next to me, when someone cleared their throat.
It was a teenage girl. She was holding out her iPhone and staring at Keaton like Keaton was going to sprout ten heads. “Um, hi, you don’t know me, and I know you guys are about ready to have dinner . . .” Her eyes fell to me in confusion then back to Keaton. “But could I get a selfie with you?”
Keaton beamed. “Of course!” She quickly got out of her seat while the girl jabbered on and on.
About Noah. “OMG! I followed your guys’ love story and bawled my eyes out when he had his stroke and then to think you only had a few more days with him . . . I had to take a week off school. I’m still not over it.” She sniffled. “Your love story is so beautiful!”
“Thank you.” Keaton suddenly looked uncomfortable as she took a picture with the young girl and thanked her again.
“Oh, one more thing!” The girl smiled. “Do you plan to do anything for Noah’s birthday this year? You know, like you did last year with the cake? It would be a really cool way to memorialize him, and I know your fans would love it.”
Keaton looked ready to barf. “Um, maybe, it just depends. This is all still very difficult for me, and I’m writing his book right now.”
“Ohhhh.” The girl pressed her hands to her chest like she was going to cry. “That’s so wonderful! So this must be a business meeting, I’m so sorry!”
Now I was uncomfortable as I looked from Bridge to Izzy, both of whom had frozen smiles on their faces like they were thinking, Get this girl out of here before Julian pops a blood vessel in his forehead from smiling too forcefully.
I was seconds away from that actually happening when the girl finally left and Keaton sat back down.
The entire table was silent, and then she said in a small voice, “Sometimes I wonder if they’ll punish me for moving on.”
Izzy spoke first. “It’s not their call to make, Keaton.”
“Kinda feels like it, though.” She sighed and then frowned down at the menu. “Sorry,” she said in a tight voice. “Sorry—I’ll be right back.” She shoved her chair away from the table and rushed toward the restrooms.
Shit.
She was getting sick again.
“Sorry, guys. She hasn’t been feeling well.” I pushed my chair back and followed after her as she vanished into the ladies’ room. It was hell waiting outside the door, but she returned around six minutes later—yes, I timed it. “I need a toothbrush, gum, something . . .”
I smiled. “Fresh out of all of the above, but you could always swish whiskey around your mouth. Isn’t that what alcohol does? Disinfect? Kill?”
She swiped under her eyes and laughed. “Good to know that we have the same beliefs about whiskey, though I don’t think doctors use it on wounds anymore.”
“Not true. They do use alcohol to disinfect,” I pointed out, pulling her in for a small hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think it’s just this trigger now. Every time it feels like too much, my body just reacts, you know?”
“Yeah.” I kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go get some bread into you.”
We rounded the corner, nearly bumping into the same girl from before. She eyed me up and down and then Keaton.
We both smiled at her but her eyes were narrowed into tiny slits like she was doing really hard math in her head.
I ignored the feeling in my stomach that said something was off and took Keaton back to our seats.
The rest of the dinner was nice, quiet, no interruptions, and once Keaton ate she was totally fine.
I was suddenly thankful I had taken the chance on the dress.
Thankful that I listened to my mom even after her death, even when it hurt, and thankful that the girl sitting next to me had actually joined us.
If only I could hold her hand and shout it to the world, that she was mine and I wasn’t letting her go.
“So how is the book coming along?” Izzy asked once the dinner plates were cleared and dessert menus were distributed.
I let Keaton answer; it was her book. I was just helping her get it off her chest, sharing the emotional load, and learning about her every day, because his story was also hers.
“Well . . .” Keaton eyed the menu, then looked up. “I think we’re almost done. Julian’s been a typing machine. I don’t know why but it’s just easier talking out loud than typing it. Typing it feels so . . . final to me, and I get stuck, but talking about it just feels like a conversation, keeping the memory alive.” She smiled over at me. “He’s saved my entire book deal.”
“Well, that’s what Julian does.” Bridge shrugged like it was normal
. “He saves people.”
“True,” Izzy joined in. “When Bridge was struggling with his mom and they had absolutely no money, Julian built them a trust fund that would set them up for life. He wanted to make sure that Bridge wasn’t cut out of something he was owed.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Sounds like him,” Keaton agreed as if I wasn’t even at the table.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “If you guys are trying to make me look good, it’s working.”
Bridge scowled. “You don’t need help looking good. You have the better hair.”
I laughed at that. “True.”
Keaton and Izzy joined in until the entire table was laughing. And somehow, it wasn’t awkward. The four of us together.
It felt a lot like coming home.
Like finding forever.
Finding my family again.
“Any dessert?” I nodded toward the menu in Keaton’s hand.
She scrunched up her nose. “I think the chocolate mousse, wanna share?”
I gave her a knowing look. “If I say yes, you’re going to grab your knife and hold it at my throat with one hand while you finish the entire thing, aren’t you?”
She sucked in a breath like she was outraged, then said, “Yeah, probably.”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll share.” I laughed, earning a curious look from my brother that basically said I was a goner when it came to Keaton, so I shot him a look that said Shut the fuck up, earning a wide smile and quick middle-finger flash that had me laughing more with him than I had in a long time.
They settled on the buttercream cake to share, though the minute it arrived, Izzy took both forks. Then again, she was pregnant, so Bridge didn’t even argue.
Keaton dug in to hers with fervor. I enjoyed watching her eat it, and then she rolled her eyes and moaned. “Okay, I’m only sharing a bite so you understand this is why I would stab you in the throat, ’k?”
“Violent, isn’t she?” Bridge said out loud.
“Threatened to kill me when we first met, so I’d say that’s a yes,” I joked and turned to Keaton. “Alright, let me have it.”
“Oh, I’ll let you have it so hard . . . ,” she said more to herself and then looked up. “Sorry, I have a thing for chocolate.”
“My kinda girl.” Izzy reached across her table with her fork, they clanked them together in some sort of secret female ritual that basically conveyed not sharing. Ever. And laughed.
Then Keaton’s fork was in front of my mouth. “Open.”
I did as I was told, because Keaton and chocolate together were irresistible, and tasted the best chocolate mousse I’d ever had in my entire life. She pulled the fork back. I clamped down with my teeth and licked the rest of it, my hand grabbing her wrist while she laughed.
“How could you!” a voice shouted, causing Keaton to drop the fork.
My gaze darted around the room and settled on the girl holding her phone up at us, shaking with rage. “You promised to love him forever!”
Keaton opened her mouth. I shook my head at her and stood and went in search of security. Luckily, they were already on their way. It wasn’t normal for any of us to be accosted during meals, but the restaurant always knew to be on high alert whenever a Tennyson was around—we had changed lives within the same breath of ruining them, and while my brother and I were trying to make the company better, we still had to deal with the aftereffects of our father and his ruthlessness.
“Miss, come with me.” The guard stood in front of the girl as she looked around him at Keaton and shook her head angrily.
Keaton went completely still. Tears filled her eyes as the girl shrugged away from the security guard and started to cry. “I can’t believe I used to look up to you! Were you even together? Was it just some giant publicity stunt to get Instagram likes? How could you even move on? Real love wouldn’t let you! You’re so fake!”
“That’s it.” The security guard physically grabbed her and moved her toward the exit, amidst all the hushed whispers around us.
I reached for Keaton’s hands.
She held them in her lap.
And when I squeezed her thigh for comfort, she stiffened.
The rest of the evening was ruined.
And I had a sinking feeling that all of the progress we’d made together, dealing with our grief, the book, this thing between us, just took two giant leaps backward.
Chapter Thirty-Four
KEATON
I felt physically sick that night as I stared at the laptop. True to my word I came back to Julian’s.
All that mattered was finishing the book.
Releasing it to the masses.
Moving on.
That and Julian.
I had no idea what to do. My followers meant the world to me, and for them to have the wrong idea—I didn’t know if I should address it publicly or just lie low and let it play out.
Julian had gone to bed, saying he was tired, and I’m sure he was, tired of me not taking a leap, tired of me needing him and taking everything without giving him all of me.
I’d be tired too.
I stared at the laptop.
I hadn’t touched the keyboard since the morning I’d found out about Julian’s birthday party. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
I couldn’t sleep.
And both Julian and I knew we only had less than two weeks to finish, though at the rate we were going, it would be done sooner rather than later, we were already at two hundred and fifty pages.
Already close to the end.
Part of me didn’t even want Julian to type those words, though I knew they were necessary, and another part of me felt like I was the one who needed to do it.
I sat at the table and opened the laptop. It was on the last page Julian had typed out.
I frowned and scrolled through the last chapter.
In the margins, he had left comments like That’s my favorite part and Any man would fall in love with a smile like that.
There weren’t just a few comments but hundreds of them, about his own opinions, about how he didn’t blame Noah, even some on how he was jealous of him.
I quickly shut the laptop, my body buzzing with awareness.
Julian had no idea, did he? That as he was writing the end of Noah’s story—he was writing the beginning of ours.
Tears filled my eyes as I stood and made my way into the bedroom. Julian was lying there on his side, sleeping in all his masculine glory.
His skin looked tanned against the white silk sheets. He turned in his sleep, and the sheet fell past his abs down to his waist. A sudden craving for him whipped through me, and I licked my lips.
I couldn’t compare them.
They were so different.
Where Noah was all jokes, Julian was more reserved.
Where Julian was more controlled and dominant, Noah was carefree.
I took care of Noah.
And Julian?
He took care of me.
This would be the moment where I should call my mom and ask for advice, but I knew what her answer would be.
Jump.
She was carefree just like Noah had been.
I bit my bottom lip as I watched Julian toss and turn. I wanted to fight his monsters, I wanted more.
“Noah,” I whispered. “What do I do? How do I handle this?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as the sound of the TV got my attention. I hadn’t even realized it was on.
Tears blurred my vision as I saw a commercial for adopting cats.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Tears fell down my cheeks.
“Really, Noah?” I whispered through my tears.
“Hey.” Julian’s sleepy voice filled the room. “Are you okay?”
I turned to him, his concerned green eyes and his wavy hair, his perfect jawline, intense gaze, and caring attitude. He was a bossy ass who I was falling in love with despite my heart still belonging to someone who no longer h
ad one that beat.
And it was time to jump.
“How do you feel about adopting a cat?” I crossed my arms.
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”
“Come on, a tiny little kitten just roaming around—”
“Shitting in a box, in my apartment.” He stared me down and then fell back against the bed. “I’m going to regret this.”
“Yes!” I made a beeline for the bed and jumped on, then wrapped my arms around his neck and lay across his body.
“Is that the only reason you were hovering in the doorway watching me sleep?” He licked his lips.
“No.” I grinned. “This is.” I leaned back and peeled off my shirt.
His eyes drank me in. “This is better than a cat.”
“We’re still getting a cat.” I kissed him hard on the mouth and pulled back.
“Sure, we’ll go tomorrow.” He kissed me back with a groan. “I’ll get you ten fucking cats if you keep kissing me like that.”
“They’ll call us the crazy cat couple.” I laughed.
“As long as we’re a couple . . . ,” he whispered in a serious voice, “let them.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.
I kissed him again and again.
“Keaton?”
“As long as we’re a couple,” I said against his mouth, “let them call us whatever they want.”
His mouth came down hard, and I realized this was what I’d needed all along, to let go, to adopt a stupid cat, yes, but to let go and fall into Julian’s arms, to give him an “us” to fight for.
In order for us to work, an “us” had to exist.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Julian made quick work of the pajamas I’d brought, silk shorts came flying down my legs before I even had a chance to answer. His fingertips felt like velvet across my skin as I moaned his name.
“Mmmmm.”
Julian kissed up my neck then pressed his lips against mine. “Tell me this means this is more than a writing relationship.”
I laughed at that. “It’s never been just a writing relationship, has it?”
He swallowed and then, “Never.”
“I want to try. I don’t know how, and we’re going to piss people off, but—”
Finding Him Page 18
