Chapter 25 #2
I squeeze my arms tighter around her, pulling her deeper into my embrace. I’m pretending I won’t miss her. That even if it’s a month until we physically see each other, I’ll be okay.
I’m hardly convincing myself.
And of course, the other piece weighing heavy on me is what happens if we have what it takes to be in it for the long haul?
I make a good living to support myself, but Juli’s accustomed to a more luxurious life, one with higher standards.
I don’t have the extra funds to drop on plane tickets to fly back and forth to visit.
It’s not fair to her to always come to me. Even if she can afford it.
“I’m going to miss you, too. In case I haven’t made that clear enough.”
“We can look at our schedules before you leave to see when I can come back. Even for a long weekend.”
“Get a date on the calendar. I like it.”
I more than like it, but I don’t want to be that guy. The one who gets all sappy about how much he’s going to miss his girl.
We sit on the sand a bit longer. Juli had the good sense to bring two oversized blankets and kept all digs about me being on the sand to herself. A trade-off for the whole towel thing.
One final stop through the drive-thru at her favorite coffee shop and we’re back at her place.
I’ve got a few more hours with her before she’ll need to drop me at the airport, but she has a meeting with a new client.
She gave me full rein over her condo, but I end up on the couch with the TV remote.
Picking up where I left off in Mad Men, I don’t give it my full focus.
It’s a mindless show to begin with, but my attention’s on anything but the show.
It’s stuck on how to move forward in the relationship. The whole concept of “live in the present” has jumped ship, my mind wandering to the next time I’ll see her. When I can come back here. How to get through x amount of days without her kisses and seeing her gorgeous face.
I’m totally smitten and not ashamed to admit it.
Halfway through the first episode, my stomach rumbles.
In the kitchen, I find some chips and grab the leftover dip from the other day from the fridge.
I’m on my way back to the living room, not watching where I’m going, and knock into a side table.
Papers and folders crash to the floor from my clumsiness.
Depositing the snack on the coffee table first, I walk back to pick up the mess.
I don’t know where to start. Papers are strewn about, and file folders, once full, lay empty.
Juli’s neat script indicates what’s supposed to be in them, but not wanting to snoop, I put everything in a neat pile.
I smile at finding her keys from Whispering Tide, knowing why she kept them.
Working on an apology, my eyes spot the Whispering Tide logo on top of one paper. I think nothing of it at first, but then my name jumps out at me. I don’t mean to read it all, but I can’t help it.
To say I’m shocked at what it says is an understatement.
I don’t understand most of the legal jargon, but the one thing my brain does process is that Juli is the anonymous donor for my share.
Mind. Blown.
Sure, I always assumed it was a Langley who helped me out—Preston.
The guy I’ve been friends with for years.
The man who invited me to his house when I wasn’t ready to go home.
The one who had the initial idea for Whispering Tide.
The one who would “anonymously” put up the money for me because he wanted me involved.
My breath screeches to a stop, the room around me spinning.
It was Juli this whole time?
Why?
Why would she do this?
Why would she have offered millions of dollars on my behalf, to someone she used to know? Someone she had a onetime fling with back in the day and hadn’t spoken to since?
How did it come about? How did she know about it?
The longer I consider it, the more irritated I get.
How could she do this? And why did she keep it a secret this past month?
I’m off the floor before I’m aware of what I’m doing.
With the paper gripped tightly in my fingers, I stomp down the hallway to her office.
The door’s slightly ajar, and her voice drifts through it.
The consequences of what I’m doing don’t register until I’m in the room. She’s on a call with a new client.
My pulse skyrocketing, I stay off to the side of her screen, though Juli turns around to look at me. Her sweet smile fades when she takes me in. “Two minutes,” she mouths.
Do I leave and give her the two minutes she asks for?
Nope.
She swivels back to the screen, taking note I’m still in the room. When she speaks again, her voice shakes, the confidence she had moments ago all but gone. I should let her finish on her own, but I’m too worked up. I need answers, and I need them now.
The person on the screen is saying something in response to Juli’s comment, but I have no clue what. I’m stuck on the whole donor information.
After an eternity—way longer than two minutes—Juli says, “Great. I’ll get the form emailed to you later today and we’ll go from there. I can’t wait to bring your ideas to life.”
There’s a pleasantry from the other side before Juli’s, “Goodbye.” She hasn’t completely ended the call, but I stalk over to her desk.
“What is this?”
She glowers at me, and she has every right to be upset. “Cameron, what the hell? I told you I needed time for this call. Why are you so worked up?”
I shove the paper in her face. Not that she can read it so up close, but I need her to explain. “What. Is. This?” The words fly from my mouth, all but spitting out.
She rips it from my hand, her eyes scanning over it. The moment it clicks, her face pales. “Where did you find this?”
“No. I asked you first.”
Her eyes narrow. “You went through my papers?”
“I would never betray your trust.”
“Then how did you find it?”
“Does it matter how? I did. And now I want to know why. Why you handed over millions of dollars for a person you barely knew. How did you get involved?” I’m not sure the words make sense as they barrel out of my mouth.
Needing something to do, I pace around the office, waiting for an explanation, one she’s not giving me. “Tell me, Juliana.”
“Sit.” I answer with a shake of my head as I pass by her. “Please. Let me explain.”
“I need to keep moving. Explain.”
I can’t make sense of anything right now, but I also need to give her a chance to explain.
“About five years ago when my grandfather died, we inherited some money, a ‘nest egg’ Dad called it.” Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it, her expression timid. “I didn’t have plans for it, so I tucked it away in an account, hoping to let it sit and grow there. For retirement.”
“You gambled your retirement money on me?” I can’t wrap my head around that. Why she put out so much money for me.
That’s the part I keep getting stuck on.
Because it’s a lot of money. It was a lot to be given, but now knowing it came from her, it feels like it’s more than the several million it was.
“It’s more of an investment and less of a gamble. I took a chance on something my brother was excited about, something I knew he wouldn’t let fail.”
Maybe I’m confused, but the way she’s talking sounds like she thought she was investing in Whispering Tide, not fronting my share. “But you knew it was my share? So I could be a part?”
“Of course. I wasn’t giving my brother my money for him to invest.” Her eyes roll but halt when she notices I’ve stopped pacing. “I wanted you to have this opportunity, to work with your friends, to have something you love.” A faint smile appears on her lips. “I’d do it again if given the chance.”
Needing time to process it all, I plop down into an empty armchair. I blow out a deep breath, my brain screaming at me to figure out what to do with this information. Yet, I can’t.
I have no way of understanding this.
When Preston first offered me the opportunity and the initial investment cost, I turned him down immediately, knowing there was no way in hell I could come up with that kind of capital. I had little to my name.
A stream of emotions floods me—confusion, pity, anger. Though the last one is a mystery to me. Maybe it’s because she didn’t tell me. All this time we’ve spent together lately, getting to know each other more intimately, and she left a huge piece out.
A new thought occurs—is this why she first invited me back to her room during the vacation? ‘Cause she knew she could eventually hold this over my head? Make me fall for her only to pull out the rug from under me somewhere down the line?
No, that’s not Juli. Not the girl I knew from our past, certainly not the woman I know today. Though my mind won’t completely dismiss the thought.
“I don’t know what to think,” I finally admit, my hands pulling at the strands of my hair.
“Do you have to understand it?”
Do I?
Yeah, I think I do, yet I don’t know why.
Does it matter where the money came from? I wouldn’t trade the opportunity I’ve been given, one Juli’s given me, but would I have taken it had I known?
No.
Which is why it was “anonymous.” Preston knew I wouldn’t take it. This way, we all got what we wanted—me working at Whispering Tide.
“It’s a lot of money.” Another thing I can’t fathom.
It’s a shit-ton of money. Millions of dollars.
And yes, had there been a stipulation I had to pay it back, I would have been able to make payments.
The resort is profitable for all of us. It’s why I’ve been able to save money, buy my car, and make the hefty mortgage payments on my townhouse. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Her eyes track onto the wall above my head, avoiding eye contact. “A month ago, the answer would have been no. I didn’t do it for recognition or for you to find out. It was a gift for a friend.”
“A substantial gift,” I interject. “For a friend you hadn’t seen or talked to in a decade. I don’t know if we could consider us friends.”