chapter 20 #2
“Despite her best efforts to decide what’s best for each party.”
“I know. Some of that might be pity. Sloane certainly has no love for my birth mother.”
He’d skipped the tiramisu, was happy drinking a glass of merlot. “She told me about a few of the things that were on that
phone,” he responded with a frown.
“That stuff was nothing I ever wanted to read, I can promise you.” She grimaced. “Telling one guy she wanted to blow him and
another that she’d do a threesome?”
“I see what you mean.” He held his glass loosely in one hand. “So why are we out here, enjoying this beautiful evening, when
you’re supposed to be getting some sleep so you can continue writing your next blockbuster?”
Her smile disappeared; he’d known something was wrong despite her casual behavior. “Cliff called tonight.”
“Let me guess—he wants you back.”
She gave a small shrug. “That’s what he said.”
Julian felt an immediate reaction—the desire to punch Clifford Jackson in the face—but tried to remain impassive. “Already.”
“It doesn’t feel quick to me.”
Nothing seemed fast when you were going through hell, which was part of the reason he wanted to punch Cliff in the face. He
was the one who’d put her in a bad place. “Depends on who you ask, I guess.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“No. So what are you going to do?” He held his breath while he waited for her answer.
“I don’t know. It’s so hard to walk away from all the time and effort I’ve already invested in the relationship.”
“If you go back, you can avoid the hard months ahead, you mean.”
“There’s that. Maybe he’s learned his lesson, Jules.”
“And maybe he hasn’t. Sometimes you have to cut your losses no matter how much you’ve invested.”
“You don’t think I should go back to him.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“He agreed to let Lilly come live with us,” she volunteered, as if that should make all the difference.
He clinked his glass against hers. “What a guy.”
“Jules, I know Cliff has his shortcomings. But no one’s perfect.”
“That’s true. You could get with a guy who has a debilitating disease, for instance,” he mumbled.
“Where did that come from?” she asked with a laugh.
“Just showing you it could always be worse, I guess. Don’t listen to me.
I’ve had too much to drink.” He’d had a shot at the house after receiving an email from his doctor urging him to begin treatment.
Since everyone else was in bed, it hadn’t seemed to matter if he numbed his feelings with alcohol.
He certainly didn’t have to worry about his health any longer.
He was already fucked there. But then Charlotte had asked him to go to Kasai’s with her, and he’d had two glasses of wine in addition to the whiskey he’d been drinking at the villa, and it was all going to his head. “I need to stop.”
He pushed his glass away, but she filled it again before topping up her own. “Why quit now?” she said. “If ever I needed to
forget my problems and have a little bit of fun, it’d be tonight.”
Charlotte was drunk. But she didn’t care. The heartache was gone. The worry was gone. The fear that she might make the wrong
decision where Lilly was concerned was gone, too. She felt free and fully alive for the first time in what seemed like forever.
“Fuck Cliff!” Jules nearly shouted as they finished the bottle they’d been drinking, and she was actually able to laugh. The
more Jules drank, the funnier he got; the more she drank, the more she could appreciate his humor. She was laughing and hanging
on to him so she wouldn’t trip on the cobblestone street as they walked away from the restaurant.
He steered her toward home, but she wasn’t ready to go back to the villa. Her problems resided there. The reality of her situation,
including the impending loss of her career if she couldn’t overcome the fears and anxiety that were holding her hostage, were
waiting for her there. She wanted to avoid that place for as long as possible and simply continue to feel good.
“Let’s not go back quite yet,” she said.
A cat slunk past them as Jules looked down at her. “Where else do you want to go?”
“By the water.”
“What do you want to do there?”
The world spun as she shrugged, so she tightened her grip on him. “Look at the coastline, I guess. Howl at the moon. It’s
so bright this evening. Maybe we can get a picture of it.”
“I’m a good photographer, but I’m not that good,” he said. “Not without the right equipment.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, it might not be up to your high standards, but it’ll still make a nice memory.”
“Okay,” he relented.
“Do you know how to get there?” she asked.
“To the beach? Yeah.” He winked at her. “I can get you anywhere.”
“I believe it,” she said. “But I wasn’t even sure Praiano had a beach. To me, the coast looks mostly like big rocks jutting
out of the sea with no sand around them.”
“There are a couple of tiny beaches,” he said. “And I think I know how to get to both of them. But just in case I’m wrong,
I’m going to take you to the one I’ve already visited. It’ll mean several hundred stairs, though. To get to any beach we have
to go down.” He swayed before catching himself. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
She heard the bang of a shutter and the whine of a Vespa or two in the distance as she gave him a cocky grin. “I am if you
are.”
“It’s climbing back up to the villa that’ll be hard,” he warned. “At least in our current condition.”
She didn’t care about that. They’d make it somehow, even if they had to stay out long enough to sober up. She felt safe and
warm and happy with Julian. “Then maybe we’ll sleep down there.”
His gaze seemed to take on a sexual undercurrent. But she told herself she had to be mistaken. She’d made that one comment to him the day he’d helped her carry Sabrina’s things, and he’d distanced himself immediately.
“That’d be okay with me,” he said, but then he paused, seemingly confused, as he looked around them. “Wait. First, I have
to figure out how to get to the town square. If I can do that, I’ll be able to find my way from there.”
A couple passed by, talking earnestly. “Scusi,” Julian called out. “Can you tell me how to get to Piazza San Gennaro?”
The man tried to tell them in heavily accented English how to get where they wanted to go, but they were too inebriated to
remember his instructions thirty seconds after he’d finished speaking.
“Grazie,” Jules said and as soon as they were gone, he laughed and shrugged. “We’ll find it. I have faith.”
She had faith in him, but she had to wonder if her faith had been misplaced when they got lost in a rabbit warren of stairs and walkways. They
had to double back twice before they eventually found the piazza and took a street called Via Masa.
“Now I’ve got it,” Jules announced when they spotted signs for the beach.
“We might be sober by the time we get there,” she said.
“I doubt it,” he responded. “We’re pretty drunk.”
Her phone buzzed as they were struggling to navigate one of many flights of stairs. She used it as an excuse to take a rest.
“It’s a text from Cliff,” she said.
Jules leaned against the rock wall to one side. “What does he want?”
“He’s telling me to forget about my book and come home.”
“Oh, yeah, that’d be really smart—for him. Without your career, you’d be even more dependent on him.”
Jules’s sarcasm spoke volumes. “Yeah. Not a good idea,” she agreed. “He doesn’t care that writing is my dream. He cares only
about his own dreams.”
“Fuck Cliff!” Julian said, revisiting his earlier sentiment.
“Yeah, fuck Cliff!” she said and, ignoring her estranged husband’s text, put her phone in her pocket before once again taking
Julian’s hand.
When he looked down at their clasped hands, the sweetest smile appeared on his face. “There you are,” he said.
She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she could tell he was talking to himself so she didn’t question it.
They laughed and talked until they reached the water, where they found themselves alone. Apparently, descending close to five
hundred stairs wasn’t all that appealing to anyone else, not at this time of night.
A tiny beach tapered down to the water, the moon hung low in the sky and white-crested waves slammed against the magnificent
cliffs on either side. Way off in the distance, they could see some twinkling lights she assumed were on the Isle of Capri
simply because she knew it was in that general direction.
“God, it’s beautiful in Italy,” she said.
He let go of her hand to grip the railing. They were standing on a small platform, hadn’t yet descended all the way to the
sand. “The world is a beautiful place, Char, and I’ve been lucky enough to see most of it. For a guy my age, that’s a lot
of traveling.”
“What’s your worst fear?” she asked as she gazed at the moon.
She thought he’d need a few minutes to think about it. That wasn’t a question someone asked every day. But he answered immediately.
“Being incapable of doing what I love,” he said, and for a moment he seemed so sad she put her hand over his.
“That will never happen.”
He turned to face her. “Yes, it will.”
“Years and years into the future,” she insisted.
When he remained silent, she looked up to find him studying her. “It’s too bad,” he said.
“What’s too bad?” she asked.
“That we never got together in high school.”
She knew that if she was in her right mind, she’d be shocked that he’d make such a statement. He’d always been careful not
to so much as allude to anything romantic between them. “There’s always been too much standing in the way—people we were already
involved with, the fear of ruining our friendship, the cost to my relationship with Sloane if we did ruin our friendship.
But I feel like it was a missed opportunity, too. Maybe we’d still be together,” she murmured. “Maybe we’d even have children
by now.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let you go,” he said.
That statement struck a serious tone despite the alcohol, but instead of moving away from him, she caught his face in her
hands. “I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let you go, either,” she said and, rising up on her toes, pressed her lips to
his.
It’d been an impulsive action, one fueled by alcohol and probably desperation to escape what she was going through. On some
level, Julian understood that. But there was also something much deeper there. They’d known each other for years; Lord knew
he’d certainly flirted with the thought of “what if?” on numerous occasions. So once Charlotte’s lips touched his, he couldn’t
bring himself to set her away from him. He told himself he could allow this much—no more, but this much.
When he hauled her tightly against him, as he’d wanted to do for the past week or more, he was surprised she didn’t immediately
come to her senses and pull away. Ever since they were kids, they’d been so watchful, so careful not to cross this line. Straying
from the friendship they’d always had was risky, even now. And yet she not only parted her lips, but she also moaned when
her tongue met his.
Such an enthusiastic response nearly caused his knees to buckle.
He’d expected to enjoy kissing Charlotte if he ever got the chance, but he’d never dreamed the pleasure would be quite so overwhelming.
He’d been filled with such despair since his diagnosis that the hormones ripping through him in that moment created a slingshot effect, taking him higher than he’d ever been.
“God, I love the way you kiss,” she muttered, her lips still against his as she spoke. “I should’ve known you’d be good at
this. You’re good at everything.”
Except self-control, apparently. Somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind, he knew he was doing her a disservice. She didn’t
know there was something terribly wrong with him, didn’t know that she’d only wind up feeling disappointed and betrayed in
the end. He didn’t want to blindside her with the terrible news he’d been hiding—wasn’t ready to face it himself. He’d promised
himself he wouldn’t have to deal with it here. Italy was his last chance at normalcy before he had to face everyone finding
out and deal with the pity that would inspire.
So after several even more feverish kisses, when he felt her hands go up his shirt and was tempted to put his hands up hers,
he gathered the strength to step away.
She was breathing heavily and so was he. “What is it?” she asked, blinking up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t do this, Char. It’s only going to get us into trouble.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “In what way?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she said, “If you’re worried about Cliff, I don’t care what he thinks. I’m more heartbroken
over my own failure—after giving my marriage my absolute best—than I am over losing him.”
“But the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t? Is that why you’re tempted to take him back?”
“Loss is complicated, Jules. Sometimes it makes you second-guess yourself. But I know I could never really trust his love again, so I’d be miserable, which means it would never work even if I tried to force it.”
“Still. It’s brand-new. It wouldn’t be wise to get involved with someone else so soon.”
“I can see why you’d say that,” she allowed. “And maybe you’re right. Regardless, I don’t want to screw up again—definitely
don’t want to do anything that could possibly ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me.”
“I feel the same.” He leaned his forehead against hers, wishing he could act on the spark they felt, fan it into something
hot and fierce and all-consuming, and then take care of her like a partner should. Especially if it meant keeping her away
from Cliff, who he was convinced would just hurt her again.
He would’ve gone for it—if he could. But he couldn’t allow himself to be that selfish. If he really cared about her, he’d
protect her from being shackled to someone she’d just have to take care of when his health began to deteriorate. “If only
things were different.”
“Why are you talking as if it’s too late?” she asked. “Why are you acting as if it could never happen?”
“You’re not in the right situation.” That was an excuse, and he knew it. He was the one who wasn’t in the right situation. But he had to say something, and he wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. She
and Sloane were dealing with enough already. Why would he ruin their trip to Italy?
She looked torn, uncertain. “So maybe later . . .”
“Maybe. Let’s give it some time,” he said and felt his chest tighten painfully because he knew it was time that was working
against him.