by T. K. Leigh
“Morning breath,” I say from behind my hand. “No one likes morning breath.”
He chuckles, the rumble hitting me deep in my core. He wraps his arms around me, bringing me closer into his body, the heat coming off him electrifying.
“I like morning breath.”
“Then you’re weirder than I thought.”
“Nah. I’m just weird for you.” He grabs my chin once more. When he leans in for a kiss this time, I don’t hide, his mouth touching mine. “Mmm,” he moans, tongue tracing along my lower lip, coaxing me open. A slave to whatever he wants, I part my lips, our tongues meeting in a gentle dance.
I hook my leg over his waist, inching as close as I can. As our kiss becomes more heated, his hold on me tightens and he brings my body on top of his. Straddling him, my hips circle a slow rhythm against him. He groans as he hardens even more, craving me as much as I hunger for him.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” He grips the back of my neck, fierce, jarring, intoxicating.
“Yes.” I close my eyes, continuing to tease him.
“Do you want me?” His hands find my waist, controlling my motions as he thrusts against me.
“God, yes.”
That’s all he needs to hear. He reaches for the nightstand, grabbing the last condom. He’s about to open the packet when I rip it from his hands. Passing him a flirtatious grin, I tear it open, my eyes remaining locked on his as I carefully roll the condom on him. My touch on his length causes his nostrils to flare, his jaw to clench.
Once the condom is in place, I hover over him, my mouth a whisper from his. Our breath intermingling, I lower myself onto him, taking him as deep as I can before pulling back. He brings his lips toward mine, but I escape them. I’m no longer concerned about morning breath. I like this game, the playful desperation as Julian tries to capture my mouth with a kiss, to no avail.
My motions remain slow and sensual as I savor in him. Just like he did to me the night before, I grab his wrists, pinning them on either side of his head as I shade his face with my hair. He flexes his fists, and I can tell it’s killing him not to be able to touch me. I know all too well. I was in his place last night.
Our eyes linger on each other as we remain in this moment. I give Julian everything he deserves as I take everything he’s willing to give me until neither one of us can take anything else and I collapse on him, both of our bodies quivering and trembling.
In the aftermath, I remain locked in his embrace, my head nuzzled into his chest as I relish in the sound of his steady heart. He delicately traces circles on my shoulder blade, my arm slung over his waist. As we lay there in solitude, my attention is drawn to the scars on his abdomen.
“What’s the story behind these?” I ask as I shift my hand to the three circular marks, brushing my fingers against them.
The instant I do, he grabs my wrist in a harrowing grip. I snap my eyes to his, wincing in pain. But he doesn’t relent. Something inside him snaps and he’s not himself, an old defense mechanism kicking in, forcing him to become someone else.
“Don’t.” It’s not a plea. It’s a demand. A warning. The atmosphere changes as he glares at me. Gone is my charming, endearing Julian. In front of me is a broken man. A haunted man. A shattered man. His entire body seems to tremble, his stare darkening as he squeezes my wrist so hard I yelp, tears forming in the corner of my eyes.
When he hears my piercing cry, he releases his hold, his eyes widening as he stares at me in confusion, as if snapping out of whatever trance he’d been in. Then he quickly pushes away from me and jumps out of the bed. I rub my wrist, flexing it, able to discern the place where each individual finger was wrapped around it. He focuses on my skin where a bruise is already forming, then looks back at me, turmoil covering his expression.
“Why don’t you want to talk about your scars? What happened?” My brain tells me to retreat, to drop it, but I can’t. I reach for him again, but he steps away, grabbing his shorts off the floor and yanking them on.
“I don’t talk about them.”
“But I want to know. I want to know this part of you. I want you to open up.”
“Why?” His tone is harsh, one I’ve never heard him use with me, with anyone. “Why do you need to know about this? It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter! It’s a part of you. Based on your reaction, it’s a big part of you. This is what people do when they care about each other. They share themselves. The good. The bad. And the gritty darkness.”
He stares at me, his jaw tight, then lowers his head. “I can’t do that.” He avoids my eyes as he walks toward the door.
I scramble off the bed, rushing to pull on his oversized SUNY sweatshirt. When his hand touches the doorknob, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, the only truth I know that will make him see that whatever idea he’s concocted in his head is ridiculous.
“I love you!”
He stills, his body stiffening as my declaration hangs in the air. The silence is so penetrating, you can probably hear a pin drop from a mile away. My heart thumps in my chest as he remains motionless, staring at the door.
“What did you say?” he asks in a soft voice, peering over his shoulder at me.
I advance toward him, my eyes unwavering. “I said I love you.”
“No, you don’t.” He digs his fingers into his hair, yanking at it, pained at the mere notion. “You can’t.”
“I didn’t want to believe it at first, either, but I can’t avoid it anymore. I’ve fallen in love with you, Julian.”
“No. You’re just in love with the idea of me. None of this is real. That hasn’t changed just because we slept together.” He opens the door, storming away from me, but I follow him into the hallway.
“Aren’t you tired of it all?” My words carry through the empty space. I can make out the typical morning sounds of the household staff cleaning and preparing breakfast, but I make no attempt to lower my voice. “Aren’t you fucking exhausted of constantly running away from anything that is real? I know I’m exhausted watching you do everything you can to remain closed off to everyone who actually matters. Everyone who cares about you. Everyone who loves you.”
He pauses, his lips curling, his fists clenched. A few weeks ago…hell, a few days ago, I would have dropped it, thinking it wasn’t worth the argument. But I’m tired of this. Of him pushing me away the second I open up. I won’t do it anymore.
I approach on timid steps, grateful when he doesn’t try to escape. “Take it from me… It is exhausting pretending to be someone you’re not just so you’re accepted. I did it for twelve years of my life…until you showed me I was good enough as myself.”
“This is who I am.” He remains in place, but his voice lacks any conviction.
“No, it’s not. I know it’s not. I don’t believe the Julian Gage who asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend for the summer is the real Julian Gage. I don’t believe the only reason you needed me to pretend to be your girlfriend was to get your project up and running. I see how you are. You’re resourceful. You already have hotels in several countries, so you know how to navigate all the bureaucratic bullshit.”
He shakes his head. The more I speak, the more tension seems to mount inside of him.
“So that got me thinking. Why would you possibly want me on your arm? Then it struck me. You only did it because you thought it would help you be accepted into these people’s inner circle. That’s all. Not for some project, as noble a cause as it is. You just wanted them to accept you. Why? Why do you care? Why is this so important to you? Why, Julian?!”
“You wouldn’t understand!” he shouts back. “You don’t know what it’s like being an outcast, of never being accepted!”
“So… What? You decide it’s worth sacrificing happiness and who you are just so some asshole one-percenter will talk to you? That’s not who you are. I know it. You’re not that self-centered. I saw pieces of the real you through the cracks in your armor.”
“
No. No. No.” He continues shaking his head, his body trembling with the force of his anger.
“That’s the real Julian Gage!” I state over the lump in my throat, my voice becoming louder as relentless tears fall down my cheeks. I let them fall. At least I’m not hiding my feelings. At least I’m finally being true to myself. “Not this person standing in front of me lying through his teeth because he’s too scared to admit he has feelings for someone. That, God forbid, he might just love someone!”
My words must have hit a sore spot because he punches his fist against the wall. The noise startles me and I jump, my heart ricocheting into my throat.
“You can’t fix me, Evie!” he thunders, his eyes red as the vein in his neck strains against his skin. “No one can. So stop—”
“I don’t want to fix you!” I scream, my chest heaving through my heavy sobs. The house has grown eerily quiet as my words seem to echo against the lifeless walls. Drawing in a deep breath, I lower my voice. “I just want to love you. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”
“Because love doesn’t last,” he chokes out. “The second you get a glimpse at who I really am, at all the shit I’ve done, you will run for the hills. So let’s save each other the hassle now and cut our losses. You wanted a firm end date to our agreement. We’ve reached that point. It’s come to an end.”
“Is that truly what you want? To end it? To walk away and keep pretending to be someone else?” I look at Julian through my tears, desperate for him to admit he’s never felt anything as real as he has with me.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as the harshness in his expression softens. “This is all I know.”
I hang my head low, emotionally and physically exhausted. I want to shake him out of this, to slap him and make him wake up. Will it work? Is it worth it? I don’t know if I’m strong enough to pull him from the depths to which he’s already fallen.
When I don’t say anything else, he takes a step back. “Goodbye, Guinevere.”
I float my eyes to his, not saying anything. I just stand there, studying the apprehension on Julian’s face. He starts to turn from me, but hesitates, a flicker of indecision in his eyes. If this is what he wants, I’m not going to beg him to reconsider. Not anymore. I’m too drained to stay on his path of self-destruction, fighting against hurricane-force winds that will only pull me under and drown me. I won’t do that to myself. I don’t deserve it. Julian taught me that.
With a heavy sigh, he eventually turns from me and continues down the hallway. Just as he’s about to disappear into his room where he can hide away from the world, I call out one last time.
“You were right.”
He pauses, lifting his head, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“I do deserve better than you.”
He nods, his shoulders falling.
“You deserve better than you, too.”
I allow my words to linger for a moment, then step into my room, slamming the door behind me. Throwing myself onto my bed that still smells of Julian, I hold out hope that he’ll change his mind and knock on my door.
He never does.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“You seriously don’t want any of this stuff?” Izzy asks in disbelief as she sorts through hangers filled with the clothes I was treated to over the summer. “Why would you want to get rid of it?”
As much as I’ve wanted to share what happened between Julian and me, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Yes, my friends are aware we fooled around that first weekend, but I insisted that was the only time. I never even told them we’d kissed. And often.
When we all got together the Tuesday after Labor Day and they asked about my final weekend with Julian, I lied and said it was just like every other weekend, that I was thrilled to put the summer behind me and focus on my possible promotion. I must be a good actress because none of them questioned me, not even when my phone would ping with an incoming text and I’d jump to my feet in the hopes it was Julian apologizing for his behavior.
It never was.
Now, nearly two weeks later, I’m beginning to think I’ll never hear from him again. Which is why I need to get all these clothes out of here. Not only do I have nowhere to store them in Chloe’s tiny apartment, but I can’t bear to look at them. Every time I do, the memories of my time with Julian come rushing back.
Like the way he looked at me the first time he saw me in that navy blue-and-white polka-dot two-piece. The way his mouth felt against mine the first time we kissed when I was wearing a beige maxi skirt and loose white tank. And the way we danced to him singing “Moon River” when I wore the stunning gray ballgown on our last night together.
“It’s not my style,” I say. “Take all the clothes you want. Or shoes.” I gesture to another trunk filled with dozens of shoes I only wore once. “Jimmy Choo. Manolo Blahnik. Christian Louboutin.”
Nora’s eyes widen as she darts toward the trunk, throwing it open. “You have Christian Louboutins?” A peacefulness crosses her expression as she pulls out a pair and examines the signature red sole.
“Take them. We’re the same size.”
She grins dreamily. “I love you, Evie. If I swung that way, I’d totally whore myself out for you.”
“I love you, too, Nora.” I return her smile, although it’s not as full as normal. How can it be when I’m surrounded by memories of Julian? And this is precisely why I need all this stuff out of here. I never wanted it to begin with. I purposely left them at Julian’s place, but the day after I returned to Manhattan, a delivery man appeared on my doorstep. I’d hoped Julian had sent flowers to apologize for his behavior. Instead, he had the contents of my room packed up and delivered here. No note. No apology. Nothing.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I ask Chloe.
Standing, she gestures down her petite body. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re at least six inches taller than me. And have boobs. Whereas I, well… I’m lucky to fit in a B cup most days.”
I nod toward a smaller trunk. “There’s jewelry. And sunglasses. That stuff will fit. Check out some of that.”
Chloe’s hesitant at first, but her curiosity eventually gets the better of her. I lay back on my bed as I watch my friends pillage the spoils of my own war.
“You really don’t want any of this stuff?” Chloe inquires yet again, a hint of skepticism in her tone.
“I really don’t want any of that stuff,” I confirm for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Even this?”
I glance up as she pops open the lid on the signature blue Tiffany’s box, revealing the exorbitant necklace Julian gave me.
Everyone’s eyes zero in on the brilliant stones encrusted in the intricate neckline, leading to an obscenely large yellow diamond.
“Holy fuck!” Nora gasps.
“Is that real?” Izzy asks.
Chloe lifts the necklace out of the box. Instantly, her gaze settles on a sheet of paper beneath it I hadn’t noticed before.
“What is it?”
“Certificate of authenticity,” she replies, reading it. “Fifty carats worth of diamonds. The stone is a forty-carat fancy vivid yellow diamond, with an additional ten carats of flawless diamonds in the neckline.” She looks up, meeting my eyes. “Appraised value…one million.”
I try to hide my utter shock at her words. I knew it was an expensive piece of jewelry, but I estimated maybe a hundred grand or something like that. Shows you how educated I am about the value of jewelry. But a million dollars? I can’t even wrap my mind around that amount of money. Does it matter? Chloe routinely reminded me of Julian Gage’s net worth during my time with him. A million dollars barely puts a dent in it. It’s akin to most people buying flowers for their loved one. All Julian cared about was making an impression. He used me to do so.
“Take it. I don’t want it.”
My friends share a look before turning their inquisitive stares on me. They simultaneously advance toward me, sitting on
the edge of my bed in concert.
“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Nora starts.
“You haven’t been yourself since Labor Day,” Izzy adds.
“And now you want to give me a necklace from Tiffany’s worth a million dollars?” Chloe continues. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Evie? How do you even have a necklace worth a million dollars? I mean, the rest of this stuff is nice, maybe worth a grand here and there, but a million dollars? What aren’t you telling us?”
“That she has a magic pussy,” Nora jokes.
“You guys know everything,” I argue, my face heating as I try to convince them the lies I’ve told are true. “Our entire relationship was for show. Julian needed a companion to conduct business and make deals over the summer months. And like you mentioned, Chloe, this was a great way to clear my mind and help me forget about Trevor. We’d agreed it would only last through Labor Day. It’s after Labor Day, so the agreement has ended. Plain and simple. Nothing more to tell.”
Chloe squints, analyzing my demeanor. I’ve seen that look before. The look of disbelief mixed with annoyance, the one that means she’s about to unleash an interrogation worse than I’d be subjected to if arrested for murder. Thankfully, the buzzer rips through the space and she exhales, pointing a finger in my face.
“This isn’t over. You’re not off the hook just yet.”
She jumps up from the bed and leaves to answer the door. I watch her disappear into the living room, then blow out a long breath. When I shift my eyes to Nora and Izzy, forcing a smile, they harden their glares.
“That’s right, Evie.” Nora pinches her lips, trying to frown.
I stifle my laugh at the idea of her being some badass bitch. She doesn’t even like it when I kill spiders, preferring to set them free instead. This woman doesn’t have a bitchy bone in her body. She’s all about peace and tranquility, the balance of mind, body, and spirit. She is the typical yoga instructor. So to see her trying to appear angry and annoyed only causes me to giggle.
“You’re not off the hook yet.”
