by DeLuca, Gia
“Ready?” I called, emerging from the bathroom.
Jude was seated at the sofa, flipping through another one of Julian’s books. His linens from the night before rested neatly on the arm of the sofa, folded as if he’d never used them at all.
“I can drive,” he said, standing up and jingling his keys.
“You’re going to have to,” I said. “You parked behind me.”
Outside we were greeted by a tepid June morning as we climbed into his white BMW. I slid across the tan, buttery leather seat and buckled myself in, watching him through the corner of my eye.
Although we’d just met, there was something oddly familiar and comforting about him, like he was some sort of extension of Julian. He was the designer imposter version. A close knock off. The same, but different.
“Is that diner on 10th Street still around?” he asked, backing out of the driveway. “They used to have the best breakfast.”
“They are,” I replied, silently recalling the many mornings Julian and I had enjoyed breakfast there. My eyes danced back to his direction once more, tracing the outline of his profile and then falling downwards, taking in his near-identical figure. They had the same physique, that was for sure, but Jude was built a little sturdier with at least an extra twenty-five pounds or more of muscle. And his flawless skin was kissed with a touch of a California tan.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” he said a few blocks later. “It’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” I lied, my face flushing as I turned to stare out the opposite window.
“Growing up,” Jude began, “people always thought Julian and I were twins, except Julian was always a little bit smaller. That was the only difference. Oh, and I have dimples.”
He flashed a megawatt smile and revealed the most gorgeous and perfectly-placed dimples I’d ever seen. If Julian was classically handsome, Jude was the modern-day, Abercrombie-model version.
“That’s the only difference?” I teased, trying to distract myself from feeling any ounce of completely confusing and inappropriate attraction toward him.
“Pretty much,” Jude grinned. “We’re here.”
We seated ourselves in a corner booth, the very same one Julian and I had spent many mornings together, and waited for our server to arrive. A young girl, probably still in high school, walked up and took our drink orders.
My eyes ached as the bright sunshine poured in through the large windows next to us, forcing me to stand up and yank the shades down.
“Hope you don’t mind,” I said.
“Not a fan of sunshine?”
“Not today.”
“I can’t live without it,” he said. “That’s why I stayed in California. It’s beautiful. Sunny. Palm trees. Hardly any rain. Growing up in that dark house… never again.” He shuddered.
Our server returned with my orange juice and Jude’s chocolate milk.
“Julian always liked chocolate milk,” I said with a fond smile.
“I know,” Jude said, sipping it slowly. “I got him hooked when we were kids.”
“You two ready to order?” the waitress asked, whipping out her notebook and pen. I settled on an English muffin and a fruit plate while Jude ordered the biggest breakfast platter he could find on the menu.
“So, what’s your plan while you’re in town?”
“I guess I mostly just wanted to get to know you,” he said, locking his hazel eyes on mine. He slid up the sleeves of his light jacket to reveal a myriad of tattoos covering his left forearm. My eyes honed in on a picture of a beating heart with a dagger through the middle. “Julian asked me to do some things. Tie up a few loose ends—that sort of thing.”
“What kinds of loose ends?” I asked. I couldn’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t have been able to handle myself.
“I have to admit,” he said, ignoring my question, “I was a little shocked when Julian wrote me. I hadn’t heard from him in years, and all of a sudden he’s in love with some girl and married? And then my source told me he’d passed…”
“Who’s your source?” I asked, trying to hide the urgency in my voice. I had to know. He was being so tight-lipped about everything, and it didn’t seem fair.
“No one you’d know,” he answered.
I sank back in the seat. It was going to be harder than I thought to get him to open up about things. “Tell me about yourself, Jude. What do you do? Where do you work?”
“I have various e-commerce endeavors,” he said. “It’d bore you to death, but it pays the bills and lets me work from anywhere in the world.”
“That doesn’t seem shady at all,” I huffed, rolling my eyes at his vagueness.
“Yeah, well, my business degree from UC-Davis and my MBA from Pepperdine beg to differ,” he countered with an air of smug pride that seemed unfitting for a man with a sleeve of tattoos.
“Is that supposed to impress me?” I laughed, throwing him an eye roll.
“I don’t need to impress you, Evie. I’m just saying what I do is legit, and I’m serious when I say it’s boring,” he said. “Websites. Clicks. Referrals. SEOs. That sort of thing. Your eyes would glaze over if we went over it all.”
“I see.”
“What do you do?” he asked.
“I’m a registered nurse. Currently unemployed.”
“I thought nurses were always an in-demand profession?”
“I thought so, too, but not in Halverford,” I said with a sigh.
“Is that how you met Julian?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I just assumed you knew that. I was his home nurse.”
Jude’s face pinched. “Oh, yeah. I can see how you marrying and running off with him would upset Caroline, then.”
“Why do you call your mom Caroline?” I asked, dying to know more about their odd family dynamic.
“I’ve called her Caroline ever since she disowned me,” he said. “The word ‘mother’ is reserved for people who actually fit the bill for that role.” Disdain filled his voice when he spoke about her, the same exact tone I’d heard in Julian’s voice whenever his mother came around.
“Oh, awesome,” Jude said the second our food arrived. He wasted no time digging in, shoving bite after bite of fluffy scrambled eggs, syrup-drenched buttermilk pancakes, and crispy bacon into his mouth. He ate like a man. He wasn’t picky like Julian.
“You don’t have any greasy spoons where you live?” I asked, watching him eat as if he hadn’t eaten in years.
“Few and far between,” he said between bites. “Nothing beats your hometown diner. That nostalgia makes things taste just a little better, don’t you think?”
I picked around at my fruit plate, most of it soggy, questionable, or simply inedible. My appetite hadn’t returned yet, so I resolved myself to watching Jude eat.
“Oh, man,” Jude said as he sat back in the booth and pushed out his belly. “That was good.” He rubbed his abs and stared contently across the booth. “I missed that. Everyone back home is either vegan or on some raw food kick. It’s hard finding someone to eat crap with.”
I looked down at my untouched fruit and back at him.
“I guess you didn’t really eat crap today,” he said with a smirk. “You didn’t really eat at all.”
The server brought our check, and Jude whipped a twenty from his wallet and slapped it on the table as we left.
“I forgot how cheap small towns are,” he said as we walked outside. “I don’t even think I could get breakfast for twenty bucks back home.”
The sun shone bright above us, and the mild morning weather begged for windows to be rolled down. As we cruised down the streets of Halverford, the warm air brushed our cheeks and rustled our hair.
“So, what’s your plan?” I asked him again, still unsatisfied with his answer at the diner. “How long will you be in town?”
“No itinerary,” he said as he drove with one hand on the wheel and his tatted arm propped up against his door. “I was going t
o ask you something. You can totally say no if you want, and I’ll understand.”
“What?” I asked, almost scared.
“Would it be okay if I stayed at your place while I’m in town?”
“You’d rather sleep on my couch than in a nice hotel?” I asked.
“Name one nice hotel in Halverford,” he countered.
“Good point,” I murmured. “Of course you can stay with me.”
“You’re a sweet girl, Evie,” he said, turning toward me and flashing a subtle smile.
We pulled into my driveway a bit later, and I realized he still hadn’t answered my question.
“Do your parents know you’re in town right now?” I asked as we made our way inside the house.
“Nope.” He reached out and gently placed his hand on my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks. “And it better stay that way.”
“Got it,” I said, jerking my arm out from under his touch. He should’ve realized by now that I was estranged from them.
I tossed my purse and house keys on the kitchen table and kicked off my shoes. The house, for the first time all week, had stopped smelling of burnt eggs and canned air freshener. I drew in a deep breath and relished the fact that that awful reminder of that horrible day was finally gone.
“Surely you can tell me what you’ve got planned for today,” I pried. “Anything in particular?”
“A few things,” he said as a smirk curled upon his lips. He knew what I was trying to do. He knew I was fishing. “I’ll probably take off for a bit. You going to be around most of the day?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’ll be here.”
Jude leaving meant I was going to be along again with my memories and thoughts and empty house. It was not something I was looking forward to.
“I better get going,” he said as we lingered in the entryway. His head was down as he sent off a few text messages. “I’ll be back later. Maybe late afternoon. Early evening.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling through glassy eyes. The tears were coming. Oh, God, were they coming.
“You going to be okay?” he asked, raising his eyebrow as he looked up from his phone. “I can stick around, if you want. I don’t want to leave you if you’re going to start bawling the second I walk out of here.”
My lip trembled and I forced a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, Jude.”
“If you need me to stay, I will,” he insisted.
“No, go.” I gently shoved him toward the door. “Do what you need to do. I’ll see you later.”
He stared at my face, which I was sure looked sad and pathetic, and hesitated before walking outside. I watched from the dining room window and waited for him to drive off before shuffling back to my room and burying myself under a mountain of covers.
JUDE
“We’ve been waiting for you.” My mother’s lithe frame stood before me. It’d been eight years since I’d seen her last, and her icy blue stare still sent shivers down my spine. It was plain to see she’d been crying, her puffy eyes hidden behind layers of makeup as if she couldn’t bear for anyone to see her vulnerable for more than two seconds. “Come in.”
We stood in the foyer, still as dark as I remembered it, and for a split second, it seemed as though she wanted to hug me but then changed her mind.
“I’m so sorry you couldn’t make it for the funeral,” she said as she glided down the hall. I followed. She turned a corner, bringing us into the dark den still filled to the brim with exotic game mounts and my father’s antique curiosities. She took a seat, grabbing a tissue from an ornate box on a side table and dabbing the corners of her eyes.
“I didn’t think I was welcome,” I said as I took a seat across from her. “We hadn’t spoken in years. I didn’t want to make a scene.”
She clutched her hand over her heart. “You’re my son, Jude. You’re always welcome.”
Who was this woman, and what had she done with my mother? The woman standing before me crying and acting like she gave a damn was not the same person that’d cut me off at eighteen, forbidding me to speak to my younger brother. He’d spent the last eight years thinking I didn’t give a shit about him when really, it was her. She filled his head with all kinds of crazy thoughts about me.
“Did Jamison come?” I asked, referring to my older half-brother.
“No,” she said, her lips trembling. “It was just your father and I and a few relatives. It was a small but beautiful ceremony. I think Julian would’ve loved it.”
I pursed my lips and nodded, trying to picture it. I hated not being there.
“Have you given any thought to what we discussed?” she asked, referencing specifically to the favor she’d asked of me, though it was more of a bribe than a favor.
“I’ve thought about it, yes,” I replied.
“And?”
“I’m working on it,” I replied, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth and making me feel dirty.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said, her lips twisting into a pleased smile. “And please, Jude, allow me to invest in your business as my way of thanking you. I’ve missed out on so much of your young adulthood over this petty nonsense.”
Yeah, the petty nonsense that stemmed from me not wanting to come back to the mansion and live my life in her tight clutches.
“Really?” I asked. My business had been suffering. The economy was still recovering, and new competitors emerged practically by the hour. I needed investors, and I needed them badly. “You want to invest in J-Corp?”
“You’re helping me,” she said. “I want to help you.”
It was dirty money, and I knew it—any gift from Caroline Garner-Willoughby always had strings attached to it. But I wasn’t exactly in a position to turn it down. My livelihood and the success of business all depended on it. I was one bad month away from losing everything I’d worked my entire life to achieve.
“Two and a half million enough?” she asked, one thin eyebrow raised as her ice blue eyes burned into me.
It was more than enough. I could expand my company like crazy with that money, even build a nest egg for the hard times. “That should do. Thank you.”
“Mrs. Garner-Willoughby,” Rosa, our housekeeper, said from the doorway, “you have a phone call from New York.”
“Jamison?” I asked.
“No, no,” she said, waving it off as she stood to leave. “I’ve got a business call to take. You’re more than welcome to stay here while you’re in town, Jude.”
“I’m staying with Evie,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair and avoiding her gaze.
“Perfect!” she said, suddenly elated. “I see you’re on it already.”
She spun on her heel and left the room, and I leaned back into the couch cushions. The twelve-foot ceilings were covered with the same old mahogany coffers. The walls were lined with the same game heads. Bison. Elk. Rams. My father’s gun collection was on full display. He didn’t even shoot guns, and he certainly wasn’t a hunter. This place hadn’t changed at all since I’d left, and neither had my mother, scheming just as much as ever.
I showed myself out and climbed back into my car, driving around town for hours. Halverford was a drop in the bucket compared to L.A. Traffic was virtually non-existent and everyone drove slow, taking their time. No one was in a rush. Time stood still.
I traced the same loop about twenty times before heading back over to Evie’s, my mother’s words echoing in my mind. I pulled into her drive and punched the steering wheel before getting out. I was a double fucking agent. Julian had asked me to take care of her. My mother asked me to dig up dirt on her, find something good, prove she was after the family’s money. I’d be rewarded handsomely if I did, she said. That two-and-a-half million was just earnest money, a small token of her appreciation. There was plenty more where that came from.
“Fucking piece of shit,” I said to my reflection in the rearview mirror before getting out. “Do the right thing, Jude.”
EVIE
“Hey,” I said to him as I opened the door a second later. “Thought you weren’t coming back until later?”
He stared at my puffy, swollen face, his eyes wrinkled with concern. “You okay, kid? You need a hug, or something?”
I shook my head, but he stepped forward anyway, wrapping his strong arms around me and hugging me tight. I tensed up at first but then gave in, letting him hold me. It felt good. I breathed him in, though much to my dismay he smelled nothing like Julian. He smelled like leather. Summer breeze. New car. Vetiver and musk.
“Thanks,” I said, uncomfortably pulling away.
“You hungry?” he asked as he glanced at the clock. It was already a quarter until noon. “You didn’t eat breakfast, so…?”
My stomach growled for the first time in days, and my hand flew to it as if it could muffle the sound. “I guess.”
“I can whip something up,” he offered.
“I don’t have much here,” I said, my eyes darting to my kitchen. My cupboards were pathetically bare. “I might have a block of cheese and some canned vegetables. Maybe a frozen pizza. There’s not much.”
“I’m sure I can find something,” he said, oozing confidence. “I’m pretty resourceful.”
He rolled up the sleeves of his paper-thin button-down shirt and started rifling through my kitchen, making himself perfectly at home.
I sat at my kitchen table, in awe of him as he got to work ransacking my refrigerator and pulling out various pots and pans. Jude was in his own little world. I watched the way he moved, the way his arms flexed when he whisked the sauce and the way he licked his fingers as he sampled it.
