Jude (Beautiful Mine #2)

by DeLuca, Gia

  “Jude,” she said, answering on the second ring.

  “Everything okay?” I asked. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “I just…”

  “You had me worried for a second,” I said, sighing.

  “If you’re busy, we can talk another time,” she offered.

  “I’m out to dinner right now, but if you need me, I’m here,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “Why’d you just leave this morning?” she asked. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “I said goodbye last night,” I said. “When I put you to bed. You don’t remember?”

  “Obviously not,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “I should’ve stayed longer,” I said.

  Evie said nothing.

  “Listen, kid, can I call you later?”

  “If you want.”

  “If I don’t call you tonight, I promise I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, crossing my chest with an “X” as if she could see me. “If anything comes up—and I mean anything—don’t hesitate to call me again.”

  No response.

  “Evie?” I pulled my phone away only to find that she’d ended the call.

  I shoved my phone back in my pocket and headed back inside, where Veronica was ordering yet another drink.

  “I’m not going to be here all night,” I said, standing next to the booth. “You going to be able to get home all right?”

  Her face fell for a moment. “You can’t take me home?”

  “I’ve been on the road all day,” I sighed, frustrated at constantly having to babysit her. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  She pouted her red lips and shot me a dirty look, as if she were a petulant child and I was a scolding parent raining on her parade.

  “We’re going to have to discuss this another time,” I said.

  “But you just got here.” Her big green eyes stared up at me as her manicured fingers gripped her martini glass.

  I slapped some cash on the table. This wasn’t a business meeting. This was another one of Veronica’s ploys.

  “Call me when you dry up. We can talk shop then.”

  EVIE

  I left my cell phone off for two weeks. It was extreme, I knew, but I had to do it. I needed to mourn. I needed to gather my thoughts. I needed to figure things out.

  I’d had no business calling Jude that night after he left, and clearly, I had interrupted his date. I suppose I just wanted to hear his voice one more time—the voice that was nearly identical to Julian’s. The voice that told me everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know why, but it meant more coming from him.

  I heated some water in a kettle on the stove for my morning tea, grabbing one of Julian’s favorite mugs. Sometimes I convinced myself that I could pretend he was still with me, sitting at the kitchen table silently reading the newspaper and eating a bowl of oatmeal. Some mornings I’d lay on the sofa and turn the T.V. down, convincing myself that Julian was still in bed sleeping and I need not wake him. Life was easier that way. And the sad thing was, I believed myself every time.

  I stepped over to the dining room window and drew back the curtains as I steeped my tea. The early morning sun cast shadows beneath the trees as the leaves rustled in the breeze, reminiscent of the morning Jude and I went out for breakfast.

  I walked over to where my phone rested on the counter, virtually untouched for two whole weeks, and turned it on.

  “Here we go,” I sighed as my phone told me my voicemail box was nearly full. Message after message played, and they all said the same thing. Everyone was thinking about me, wondering how I was doing, if I needed anything. I played through them all until I got to the oldest message.

  “Evie. It’s Jude. Sorry I couldn’t talk earlier. I’m home now. I left the restaurant and came home. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  I replayed the message once more and then set my phone down, drumming my fingers on the counter and mentally calculating the time zone difference. I sent him a text with a simple “good morning” and walked away, leaving the ball in his court.

  Within seconds, my phone rang. I cleared my throat before answering, “Hello?”

  “Evie,” Jude said. He sounded out of breath. “Long time.”

  “Why are you out of breath?” I asked. It was as if we were picking up right where we’d left off.

  “I’m jogging on the beach,” he panted. “Can you hear the ocean?”

  “A little,” I said, straining to hear the crash of the waves in the background as I imagined how my toes would feel in the warm sand. Moving was sounding better and better.

  “All right, I’m going to take a little break here,” he huffed. “What’s up? I didn’t think you were going to call me back. It’s been, what, two weeks now?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I just needed a little space.”

  “From me?”

  “No, no,” I said. “I needed a break from reality.”

  I glanced over at Julian’s favorite spot on the couch, the spot I’d imagined him sitting all week when things got a little too quiet.

  “Understandable,” he said, quickly catching his breath.

  “I’ve been thinking more about your open invitation,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I think I’ll take you up on it,” I said, as if my subconscious had to force the words out. “It’d be good for me to get out of Halverford for a bit.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Jude said, a smile in his tone. “Next weekend? That work for you? I can get your plane tickets and pick you up. You’ll stay with me, of course. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “You sure?” I asked with a wince.

  “I’ll book the tickets as soon as I get home and send you an email.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” I promised. “I don’t have much right now, but—”

  “Nope. My treat.”

  “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything.”

  “That’s on you. I said, my treat.”

  “Thank you, Jude!” I hung up the phone and flung myself across the sofa, dreaming about the clear, sunny skies and swaying palm trees that awaited me.

  Two hours later, my phone dinged with an email containing my itinerary. It was real. It was happening.

  The night before I was to leave, I packed my bag, forcing myself not to think about how badly I was going to stick out in California. I wasn’t blonde. I didn’t wear skimpy clothes or have so much as a hint of a summer tan. I crammed my entire wardrobe, which wasn’t much, into my little carry-on bag and zipped it shut, wheeling it to the front door.

  I tossed and turned all night, my nerves getting the best of me. I’d hung out with Jude for three days, and now I was flying out there to spend the weekend with him. I’d never even flown alone before.

  Friday morning, I woke before the sun rose, showered, dressed, and flew out the door by six o’clock, praying my car would make it to the Kansas City airport. Within hours, I was airborne, jetting off to the LAX and forcing myself to focus on the glossy pages of a tabloid magazine.

  “First time flyer?” the plump man in the ill-fitting suit said next to me.

  “First time alone,” I said with a smile.

  “Your hands are trembling,” he said. “What are you so scared of?”

  I offered a nervous laugh as I attempted to steady my hands, though the wobbling magazine pages gave it away. I suppose I wasn’t afraid of flying. I was afraid of what would happen after we landed.

  The fasten seatbelt sign dinged after a few more hours and the captain’s voice filled the cabin, indicating that we were beginning our descent. My ears popped and my stomach churned as flight attendants ran up and down the aisles, collecting the last of people’s trash. My heart raced. My mouth was dry as a bone. I’d be seeing him soon.

  It took forever for the plane to come to a stop, and then it took even longer for passengers to file off the plane in an orderly fashion. Everyone
bumped into one another, grunting and groaning, stretching, and taking up valuable aisle space, so I just waited patiently until the very last person passed before grabbing my carry-on and exiting the aircraft.

  I ambled through the terminals, heart racing while a voice inside told me to pay attention to the signs and follow the baggage claim arrows to find the exit. Once past the security checkpoint, my eyes scanned the crowds of people for Jude’s familiar face.

  “Evie!” I heard a voice call from behind me. I’d evidently walked right past him.

  “Hey!” I said, feeling my face light up as relief washed over me, as if I’d finally docked my boat in a safe harbor.

  “I was getting worried,” he said. “Your plan landed almost an hour ago.”

  He placed his arm around me in a big brother sort of way as we made our way through throngs of travelers and out toward the pickup lane and short-term parking. Warm air gushed and whirred around us, indicating summer was in full force out there.

  “It was a pretty full flight. People were acting all crazy. I just waited for everyone to get off first,” I said as we walked.

  “That’s cute,” he laughed. “This is the big city, kid. Get used to it. Let me take that.”

  He loosened his hold on me and grabbed my suitcase, wheeling it behind him as we headed toward the parking garage. His long legs carried him strides ahead, and from behind, he looked nearly identical to Julian. Minus the tattoos, of course.

  His dark hair was combed and slicked with brill cream, parted on the side. And his sleeve of tattoos peeked out from his button-down top, which was cuffed mid-forearm. He was a walking anomaly.

  “Here we are,” he called out as we approached his BMW.

  I’d never seen so many people in one place before. The sheer number of taxis, shuttles, and luxury imports in one place was enough to overwhelm my senses, and I gladly took refuge in the passenger seat of his car as he loaded my bag in the trunk.

  I climbed in, my jeans sliding against the buttery leather and the familiar, new-car scent filling my lungs. Jude started up the car, cracking the windows, and pulled out of the parking garage as I stared at palm tree after palm tree passing us by.

  He merged onto the freeway and nudged his way into bumper-to-bumper traffic. There were cars, cars, and more cars as far as the eye could see.

  “This is insane,” I said as I found myself gripping the armrest. “How do you get used to this traffic?”

  “You just do,” he said with a shrug, completely unfazed. “We should be at my place in about thirty minutes.”

  I sat quietly in his car as he maneuvered us through the stop-and-go traffic, turning on the radio to fill the silence. I just wanted to take in my new surroundings, and for a split second, I was starting to miss the comforts of sleepy Halverford.

  “So, where do you live out here?” I asked.

  “West Hollywood,” he said. “I have a condo. And a roommate.”

  “Oh. Didn’t know you had a roommate,” I said, hoping to God it wasn’t his business partner, Veronica.

  “His name is Jax,” he said. “He’s a bit of a wild card. You’ve been warned.”

  “I’ve got one of those,” I replied with a grin. “Her name is Carys. She’s kind of crazy, but I love her anyway.”

  “You have anything you want to do while you’re in town?” he asked as he checked his mirror and aggressively switched lanes, squeezing into a tight opening.

  “Not really,” I said. “I just wanted to get out of Halverford. I’m up for whatever.”

  He stuck his jaw out as he nodded. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  We veered off the freeway and down a few busy streets before pulling into an underground parking garage.

  “Here we are,” Jude said, pulling into a reserved spot. He climbed out, grabbed my bag, and wheeled it to an elevator with me in tow. We rode up to the fourth floor and then headed down the hall to the last unit on the right. “Home sweet home.”

  Jude swiped a keycard and swung open a heavy steel door. His condo was massive. Living in L.A. wasn’t cheap—I knew that—but this place defied all expectations. The ceilings were as high as the place was wide. The walls were splashed with hints of grays and beiges and the shiny wood floors were dark and Jacobean. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far living room wall and sliding doors led out to a balcony. His place was immaculate. There was not a speck of dust or a crumb to be seen.

  “Did you decorate this place by yourself?” I asked, taking in the abstract oil paintings. A chicken wire basket of fresh fruit rested in the center of his marble kitchen island. “This feels like a movie set, or something.”

  “Oh, God, no,” Jude laughed, kicking off his shoes. “Jax used to date a set designer. We basically let her have free reign of decorating this place. Not bad, eh?”

  “Not bad at all.”

  “So, down that hall over there is Jax’s area,” Jude said, pointing to his right, just beyond the living room. “Over to the left is my side of the place. We each have our own suites.”

  “Nice,” I said. “Where am I sleeping?”

  “My room,” he said, wheeling my suitcase down toward his suite. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I insisted.

  Jude shrugged. “You’re my guest. Besides, it’d be inhumane of me to subject you to seeing Jax walking around in the morning in his underwear, smacking on his bowl of Fruity Pebbles. You’ll thank me later.”

  “Who’s this?” another man’s voice said from across the way.

  “Evie,” Jude said as we turned. “Meet Jax.”

  “What’s up?” Jax said as he walked toward me, his sandy blond hair tousled and messy, reminding me of a stereotypical surfer dude. His charming looks coupled with his tight t-shirt and low-rise straight-leg jeans reminded of someone Carys would date, and I stifled a half smile as I immediately thought of introducing them. Knowing Carys, she’d probably make fun of him and then jump his bones later when no one was watching.

  “Evie’s staying here this weekend,” Jude told him.

  “You’re not from around here?” Jax asked, scratching his messy hair.

  “No, remember? This is my brother’s wife.”

  “Oh?” Jax said, still confused. “I didn’t know he was married.”

  “My late brother,” Jude reminded him. “You never met him.”

  “So, there’s another brother?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

  Jude squirmed a little before nodding to confirm.

  “Jesus,” I huffed under my breath. “Older than you?”

  “Yep,” Jude said, wincing as he read my expression. “I figured if Julian didn’t mention me, he certainly didn’t mention Jamison.”

  “Are there any more siblings I need to be aware of?” I demanded. “Any more of you Garner-Willoughby people going to pop out of the woodwork and show up at my doorstep?”

  Jude laughed and crossed an “X” over his chest. “Nope. Swear.”

  “I want to hear more about this other brother,” I said, my eyes focusing on where I knew his triple J tattoo resigned.

  “Another time,” Jude said as he turned to wheel my bag down to his room.

  “Hey,” Jax called out. “A bunch of us are going out for tapas tonight. You two wanna join?”

  “It’s up to Evie,” Jude said. “We’re doing whatever she wants this weekend.”

  Instinctively I wanted to decline. I didn’t know what tapas were. I didn’t come here to meet new people. I didn’t want to stand out in a city of big-breasted blondes. I just wanted to get out of Halverford and get to know Jude better.

  “Sounds fun,” I lied, making a mental note about Googling “tapas” later. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I was boring and lame.

  JUDE

  “Whoa, whoa,” I said, steadying Evie under my arm as I led her into my condo. Throwing her into a big group setting with a bunch of people she didn’t know in a city she’d never been t
o probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Downing glass after glass of Spanish wine, Evie only stopped when she was beginning to feel sick. I had no choice but to get her out of there. I never realized how shy she was, and it was kind of cute.

  Evie giggled as her wobbly legs knocked into mine.

  “Sit here,” I said, propping her up on an industrial barstool at my kitchen island before grabbing a bottle of ice cold Gatorade from my fridge. “Drink this. All of it.”

  “I’m so not thirsty right now,” she slurred. “Seriously. If I drink that, I’m going to explode.”

  “You need some electrolytes,” I said, holding the bottle out and trying not to get annoyed. “You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow. Your whole Saturday will be wasted. You won’t want to do anything. Just do what I say.”

  “You’re bossy,” she snickered as she took the bottle, uncapping it. “I kind of like that about you. You’re like the big brother I never had.”

  “Is that how you see me?” I asked. “Your big brother?”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you are,” she blathered. I chuckled at the irony of her sweet lips uttering such foul language. She was just as much of a contradiction as I was. “I don’t know what the fuck this is. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. I don’t know fuck about anything anymore.”

  “Why’d you drink so much tonight, huh?” I asked. “You nervous? ‘Cause if you are, I can assure you, my friends all thought you were a cool chick.”

  “I just wanted them to like me,” she said, slurping her Gatorade.

  “I wouldn’t have let you meet my friends if you weren’t a nice person,” I said. “I don’t hang out with assholes and douchebags, so you had nothing to be nervous about.”

  “I know that now,” she said, drawing out her words as she began sliding back and forth on the barstool.

  “Stop that. You’re going to fall and hurt yourself.”

  She threw me a look, challenging me, and let go of the marble island, spinning around on the barstool and losing her balance. Just before she was about to smack her head on the hardwood floor, I swooped in and caught her.