Chapter 21 #2
“Yes,” he replies instantly. “Now, please listen to me. I came to Julian last night because I was in a really bad mood. I just needed…him. And sometimes, it might be like that. At times, Julian will just be better at handling me. And other times, I’ll need you more.
We can’t always all be together, and we can’t always fulfill each other’s needs.
It doesn’t mean that we don’t care about you as much as we care about each other. ”
Tears prick my eyes as I stare up at Archer. From behind him, I hear Julian add, “We needed this, Freya. Archer and I. We needed last night.”
I tilt my head to look into his eyes. “Why?”
“Because until last night,” Archer says, staring into my eyes, “Julian and I felt like just two guys dating the same girl. I wanted to feel like I was in a relationship with him too.”
“And do you?” I ask, blinking away a tear.
“Yes, I do.”
“And you?” I ask, looking at Julian behind him.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“You two don’t want to be together alone, right?”
“Fuck no,” Archer barks. Then, without warning, he wraps his arms around the backs of my thighs and drives me into the couch. “You balance us out, baby,” he mumbles with a flirty smile.
Dammit, it works, making my stomach flutter with butterflies. Is this how he’s always going to be? Making me furious one moment and then giddy the next? It’s going to be very frustrating if it is. I rest my arms on his shoulders, tousling the back of his hair.
“If we do this, I think we need clear rules and clear communication.”
“You got it,” Archer says.
“I agree,” Julian adds.
“What if two of us are stronger than all three of us?” I ask, worried for the answer.
Archer presses his lips to my stomach. “Impossible. Nothing could be stronger than the three of us.”
Julian drops onto the sofa by our side. My gaze dances between the two of them. “Are we sure we want to do this? It seems like an awful lot to take on.”
“Oh, we’re doing it, Chef,” Archer says with a wink. “Besides,” he adds, “we do have plans to make it up to you.”
“Oh really?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
Archer kisses my jawline, moving his mouth toward my neck. Meanwhile, Julian takes my hand, gently caressing my fingers and wrist.
“But shouldn’t you be working today?” he interrupts.
“Oh, I quit,” I mumble with a hum as Archer’s lips gently nibble on my earlobe.
“You quit?” Julian asks.
“Well, yes, technically it was just the one job, but I stormed out of there and I quit.”
“That’s amazing,” Archer replies as he sucks eagerly on my neck. Warmth floods my core. He obviously doesn’t care that I was a sweaty mess earlier.
“Does that mean…” he asks. “We’re buying a restaurant?”
I smile brightly, wrapping my arms around Archer’s neck. Julian holds my hand, watching me with that guarded, stoic expression. Looking at him, I reply, “I’m ready.”
“And which one do you pick?” he asks, pressing his lips to my knuckles.
Archer lifts his face from my neck to listen for my answer.
“I want restaurant number three.” Curling my lips under my teeth, I close my mouth and stare at them both, waiting for their reactions.
Not that I thought they would be surprised.
We did spend all day yesterday looking at restaurants.
Buying one was definitely the plan, but I think they’ve been waiting for me to really get on board, and now I am.
“Fuck yes,” Archer says with a wide smile. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Let’s do it,” Julian says. “I’ll call the agent today.”
“We have to go out and celebrate,” Archer replies.
I laugh at him. “It’s, like, ten o’clock in the morning.”
“So we’re going to fucking celebrate all goddamn day.” Suddenly, his face falls in contemplation. “Oh fuck, I’ve got a fight tonight,” he adds.
“Cancel it,” Julian barks in a commanding tone.
“I can’t cancel it,” Archer argues. Then his face lights up with an idea. “Why don’t you two come?”
“Absolutely not,” I say with astonishment. “Why would we want to watch that?”
He lets out a sigh of frustration. “It’s not like you’d be watching me get my ass kicked. It’s a fair fight. Don’t worry. Rex isn’t going to let me get really hurt, okay? Come watch me win. Come see it, and then you’ll understand that it’s not as bad as you guys think.”
“I’ve seen the gashes on your forehead, Archer. It is as bad as we think.”
“Please,” he says with a begging sound. “Let me win for you.”
I roll my eyes and glance to Julian. His expression is tight, the worry etched into his features. “Fine,” I say on a sigh. “But if it looks like you’re really getting hurt, I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“That’s fine, Chef. I’ll get in an ambulance for you.” Archer is such a sweet talker, and sometimes it worries me how easily I fold for him. That smile. Those dimples and the winks. He could talk me into swimming in the Seine.
“All right,” I reply. “I’m in.”
Before we do any celebrating, I desperately need a shower and some fresh clothes. Julian talks me into taking a shower here, and honestly, it’s the memory of the three showerheads that convinces me.
Archer offers to take a car back to my place to get me some clean clothes, so after giving him my keys and instructions on what to grab, I climb into Julian’s massive shower again with the jasmine-scented soap and multiple showerheads.
When I come out with a towel wrapped around myself, Julian is sitting on his couch in the living room, scrolling through his phone.
“He’s not back yet?” I ask.
“No,” he replies before looking up at me. His eyes linger on me as if the sight of me nearly naked and wet has distracted him from what he was about to say. He clears his throat. “He texted me. Apparently, there’s some nasty traffic today.”
“Oh, okay,” I reply before slowly entering the living room. As he scoots over on the couch, I sit down and stare at him. It’s funny to me that being alone—and naked—with either of them doesn’t really bother me or make me nervous. At least not as much as I thought it would.
Intimacy isn’t my strong suit. Things like this, being naked when someone is clothed, would normally make me extremely uncomfortable. But not with them.
Julian turns toward me. “Sorry you have to wait like this,” he says, nodding toward the large towel barely covering my bare legs. “I can grab you something from my closet.”
Deciding to be bold for once, I shake my head. “I’m not uncomfortable with it if you’re not.”
He swallows. “I’m definitely not.”
Julian seems to be more casual than normal. Still exquisitely put together. He has on a pair of jeans, which I didn’t even know he owned. His hair is loose and wavy over his forehead. There are no rings on his fingers, no jewelry around his neck. It’s just Julian.
With a cup of bad coffee in his hands, he sits on the couch next to where I’m curled up. His bare feet rest on the ottoman in front of the couch, and then we’re bathed in silence.
But it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.
I rest my head along the back of the couch, staring at him softly. I’m suddenly remembering the night in my apartment and then the incident at the restaurant yesterday. “Can I ask you a question?” I say.
“Of course.”
“Why were you so mean to me that day we met?”
He winces as if this question has physically hurt him somehow.
Slightly pulling away, he makes a contemplative expression as he sets his coffee on the table.
“I don’t know,” he mutters quietly. “To be fair, I don’t feel like I’ve been very nice to anyone.
In this specific example, you’re not special. ”
“Why?” I ask.
He gives a lazy shrug. “Have you ever met my sister?”
“She happens to be my best friend,” I reply with a smirk.
“Yeah. You ever noticed how nice she is?”
“Yes.”
“What about my mother? You ever met her?”
“An angel,” I reply.
“And guess what? My dad?”
“A saint?”
“Yep.”
“So why not you?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not mean. I’m really not.”
“I believe you,” I respond, “which is why I’m so confused.”
“I have no tragic story to share. I’ve never been heartbroken. I’ve never even really been hurt. There’s nothing in my past that would indicate why I feel so…”
“Angry?” I ask.
“Scared.” he replies. “I don’t know how to let anyone close without imagining how they’ll leave me.
It’s like…if I’m not in control of everything—the conversation, the room, myself—then something terrible will happen.
I don’t even know what. Just…something. So I keep everyone at arm’s length. It feels safer that way.”
I freeze, deliberating over his words and suddenly seeing Julian in a new light. Searching my memory, I try to recall if Amelia has ever shared with me that her brother struggles with anxiety. Does she even know?
Does he?
Everything starts to make so much sense. His need for control. His fear of letting people in and of being vulnerable. Constantly overthinking and second-guessing.
My sweet, suffering Julian.
With my heart lurching in my chest, I reach forward and place a hand on his cheek affectionately.
“Julian, those are all risks we take every day, but it doesn’t mean it always happens. Sometimes when you let people in, you just fall in love.”
“Yeah, but what if they leave?” he argues with pain in his furrowed brows.
“Why would they leave?”
“I don’t know. Because I didn’t do enough to earn their love.
Because I’m nothing but a spoiled rich boy like everyone seems to think I am.
Because I didn’t measure up to everything they thought I would be or because they found someone better or worse.
Because they die because they’re just so fucking old. ”
My brows knit together in confusion. “Old?”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, looking down. “I just worry…what if I get too close? If I am the one who leaves first, then I’m safe, right? I’m protected.”