Chapter 34 #2
“You need fresh air.” Reaching down, she takes my hand, pulling me to my feet against my will.
Without another word, she drags me out the door to my rooftop veranda.
There, beneath the moonlight, are two wrought-iron chairs, an array of plants in pots, vines crawling up the side, and a garden I usually tend better. Only this year, my attention has been diverted elsewhere, and the tomato plants are suffering for it.
Amelia hauls me across the veranda and directs me where to sit. Onyx follows us, crawling into my lap with another angry meow as my sister hands me a glass of water.
“Remember when we used to sneak Mom’s wine and drink it on the roof?” she asks.
I let out a huff meant to be a chuckle. “Yes. Until Dad found us and made us tell her the next morning.”
Amelia laughs. “She was just glad to find out we were getting along.”
“Yeah,” I mumble under my breath.
It grows quiet for a moment as we stare out at the city beneath our feet. The Seine stretched out in the distance. Parisian architecture carved into the skyline—rows of ivory-colored stone, wrought-iron balconies, and weathered chimneys. And for a moment, I think…I love it here.
But love is a careless thing. Love is for fools.
“Okay, tell me everything,” she says, her cerulean eyes mirroring mine.
I hold my glass to my chest as I replay everything from the elevator to the fight from my perspective, and when pointing fingers for who to blame, I don’t count myself out. I know I am responsible for this chasm in our happiness.
“Julian,” she says softly. “Why would you do that?”
“I never wanted to be in a relationship in the first place, Amelia. I knew this was a risk.”
“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she shrieks. “You are the reason your heart is broken. You pushed Archer and Freya out to protect yourself from the very pain you’re suffering from.”
My mouth opens to argue with her. “They were going to leave anyway, Mel.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she…she ran the moment her mother saw us.” It’s a weak argument, but my mind is latching on to any reasoning it can.
“She was afraid, Julian. Archer was right. You were supposed to support her. She didn’t need a man to run at the first sign of danger. She needed a man who would talk some sense into her, reassure her he’d be there.”
“What if I’m not a good boyfriend, Mel? What if I’m not a good…anything?”
My sister freezes, and I can spot the moisture brimming in her eyes in my periphery. When she reaches out and clutches my hand, I nearly crack.
“I never understood why you were always so hard on yourself, Julian. Someone so smart and kind. I have never once seen you the way you see yourself, like you are some villain people are better off hating. I never bought that act.”
I don’t speak. I’m too busy trying to hold it together.
“Then Mom explained it to me. She said it’s like you were born without armor, so you have to put up that armor yourself. By being cruel and pushing people away and never letting people close to the most tender, soft parts of yourself.”
With a scoff, I blink the tears from my eyes, and they trail down my cheeks. I don’t bother to wipe them away.
“Pretty accurate actually.”
“Julian, what if Archer and Freya could be your armor? What if you let them inside? They would never hurt those tender parts.”
“I know they wouldn’t.”
“So what is the problem? I can’t bear to watch you throw away a life of happiness.”
With a deep sigh, I lean back in my chair and stare up at the cloud-filled sky. “It’s my fault, really. I should have been taking my meds, and I don’t know why I stopped. I wanted to believe I was better or that I could be whole without them.”
“You are whole without them, Julian. Trust me, I get it. You think I like taking mine? But I refuse to let my diagnosis get in my way. I refuse to give it control.”
For a moment, I don’t say anything. I’ve never felt weaker or more exposed in my life.
“Listen, Jules. Whether or not you want to take those meds, you have to know those two love you just the way you are. And if you let them go, I will personally become your living nightmare, and I will never, ever stop pestering you to get them back.”
With a chuckle, I run my fingers through my hair. “Well, it’s too late now, Mel. They’re gone, and I can’t take back the things I said.”
“So what do you think’s gonna happen?” she asks, slapping my leg. “That the love you have for them will just fade away? That you’ll feel better in a few days? Love doesn’t work that way, Jules.”
Staring out into the distance, I let my sister’s words wash over me. What choice do I have now? Apologize? Beg for them to come back? Even if Freya doesn’t believe we’ll work?
I replay the entire fight in my head. The fear in her eyes still guts me.
“What if I fight for them and it doesn’t work? What if they turn me down?” I ask flatly.
“You think it’s going to feel any worse than you feel right now?”
My eyes narrow as I stare across the veranda. “When did you become such a smart-ass?”
“One of us has to be smart,” she says, taking a sip of her water. “Now get the hell out of here, and go grovel for your hotties.”
“What about Freya? She’s with her mom, and she clearly doesn’t want to come clean about our relationship.”
“She’ll come around,” she insists. “But make sure she knows you two will be there. Don’t let them get away, Jules.”
“It’s not that easy,” I argue.
“Why not?” she snaps. “At least try, you miserable jerk.”
“You’re so mean.”
“No, I’m not. I’m an angel,” she replies with a smile, dimples piercing her cheeks. “Now go!”
For a moment, I don’t move. I hate the idea of groveling.
I’m not a groveling man. I swore I’d never be the one left behind, but then the thought of Freya’s smile or the weight of Archer’s body when it drapes over me at night enters my mind, and suddenly, I’m bursting out of my chair.
Onyx howls angrily as she lands on the cold ground.
“Good luck,” Amelia says behind me as I rush back inside my apartment.
My first stop is the bathroom. Taking a quick shower, I scrub off the events of the last twenty-four hours while rehearsing exactly what I will say to them.
After getting out, I don’t bother making myself look perfect.
I don’t even put on my jewelry or brush my hair.
It falls messily over my forehead, but I don’t care.
In a pair of black joggers and a T-shirt, I slip on a pair of sneakers and jog toward the front door.
My sister must have cleaned up my mess, because the broken mug is nowhere to be seen, and Onyx is lying peacefully on top of the baby grand.
Just before leaving, I halt in my tracks. Standing in front of the mirror, I stare at my reflection. I look a mess. Dark circles under my eyes. Still wet, messed-up hair. Wrinkled clothes. But none of that matters. Not really.
None of that can protect me.
Today has to be the day I take control. I have to show them that I will take care of myself to take care of us.
So with that, I grab the pill bottle and unscrew the lid. Dropping one in my palm, I throw it into my mouth and swallow it dry.
Will one pill alone fix me? Or fix this? No. But it’s a start.
Grabbing the handle of the door, I freeze as I remember something. Turning back, I drop to the floor on my stomach and look under the armoire, spotting the silver ring near the foot.
Reaching my hand under the furniture, I grab the ring and jump back to my feet. In a desperate dash, I rush out the front door.
I don’t even know what I’m going to say. Sorry I was a dickhead? Please forgive me? That’ll have to do.
I don’t bother with the elevator. It will take too long. Instead, I run down the stairs, remembering the night he and I carried Freya up six flights of these on our first date.
When I reach Archer’s floor, I barrel toward his door and rap my knuckles against the wood in quick, desperate succession. It’s quiet.
Then the silence stretches into minutes. I knock again.
Nothing.
“Archer, please!” I call, banging once more.
Still nothing.
Where the fuck is he?
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly open up his contact to search his location. My stomach drops when I notice that he’s not here.
Then I punch the Call button as I hurry toward the stairs, rushing down to the bottom floor. He doesn’t pick up, and it goes to voicemail. Hanging up, I quickly text Lucien, asking for a ride. The absolute saint that he is, he replies that he’ll be here in minutes.
Moments later, he’s pulling up outside my building, and I’m climbing in in a rush.
“Bonsoir, Julian,” he says in a greeting.
“Hey, Luce,” I reply, distracted by my phone. Archer’s location is a small blue dot on a map, and as I zoom in to see where he could be, panic fills my bloodstream. It’s not a great part of town, and the Métro station he seems to be walking toward is abandoned.
“Can you take me here?” I ask, showing Lucien the screen.
He knits his brows together in concern. “êtes-vous certain de vouloir aller là, monsieur?”
“I’m sure. But first, take me to whatever hotel you dropped my girlfriend off at last night.”
With that, he puts the car into drive and takes off.