Chapter 2 #2
Julia fell into step with the catering team, already mapping the setup in her head. Tables at the edge of the lawn. Buffet at the rear. Chafing dishes centered, cold items staged at the far end. Drinks near the bar so thirsty members could come and go without creating a bottleneck.
Even though being here had her on edge, confidence in her skills kept her grounded.
“Hot wells first,” she directed, setting her clipboard down and stepping into the flow. “I want everything ready before the first group comes out.”
“Got it, Jules.”
Work settled quickly into a rhythm: timing, temperature, routine.
These were things that behaved as expected, things she could control.
Something she couldn’t—her gaze drifting toward the playground.
The equipment was already in place: the suspension rigging in the trees, the swings, the shimmering pool, and the cascading waterfall.
Julia didn’t need to look; she knew from experience exactly what waited out there.
But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop looking for him.
Inside the house, visible through the long stretch of windows wrapping Nick and Cari Devlin’s den, members were already gathering. Softer lighting. Lower music. The quieter side of things. Safe, in its own way.
Suppressing a sigh of longing, Julia moved down the line, checking temperatures and burners.
An hour into the service, everything was running smoothly. She stayed anchored to the buffet—adjusting trays, directing staff, stepping in wherever needed. She moved constantly, never lingering long enough for her attention to drift where it shouldn’t, or for her thoughts to catch up.
“Everything under control?”
Julia looked up. Emily stood at the end of the buffet in a fitted black sheath that hit just above the knee—simple, elegant, unmistakably her. Alec was beside her, his hand resting lightly at her waist.
His mouth curved. “When have you known Jules not to have it under control?”
Practically every day since your wedding, she thought, but she kept that to herself.
“Good,” she said instead. “My reputation precedes me.”
Alec’s eyes flicked over her, taking in her catering blacks, the sensible shoes, mass of hair twisted into a tight knot. Not the version of her in silk, lace, and, very often, cuffs he’d been used to seeing here.
“You’ve been missed,” he said, expression sobering, clearly not talking about the food.
Heat crept up her neck. She reached for a serving spoon that didn’t need moving but gave her something to do. “Your wife keeps us jumping,” she said, aiming for casual and missing.
Alec didn’t look convinced.
Emily said nothing at all, which somehow said more.
Julia kept to the kitchen after that, supporting the staff. When something needed doing, she was there before anyone asked. But if she could send someone else out to the patio, she did.
By the time Dev approached, the buffet line was thinning out. Cari was on his arm, stunning in scarlet, the color catching the light every time she moved. Her dark hair fell in soft waves now, caramel streaks threading through it—no longer the shifting disguises of the past.
Julia knew their history. Knew what it had cost them to get to this point. It was another reason this place mattered. Another reason it felt like opening a door she’d thought she’d slammed shut.
“What can we do to lure you back?” Dev’s gaze moved over the buffet before settling on her. “To this side of the line.”
Lightly said. Not lightly meant.
Julia straightened, suddenly aware of the invisible line between them. Not the buffet table but the life she’d stepped away from. Dev and Cari belonged here. She used to. Now, she wasn’t sure where she fit.
“I’m not sure the lifestyle is for me anymore, Master Dev.” The words didn’t sit right, even as she said them. Not because they weren’t true. Because they were only half the truth.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuine disappointment laced in his voice. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
There was no pressure or persuasion, just concern. That was his way.
Cari’s expression softened, worry present, but she masked it with a small smile.
Julia opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she was going to say.
“Hate to interrupt,” Tyra said, appearing at her elbow, “but there’s a snag.”
Relief hit. She’d never been a coward, but she took the out.
“Of course,” Julia said, already moving. “Please excuse me.”
It was a minor problem, easily solved and perfectly timed.
Service ended at midnight. Julia didn’t linger a minute after.
“Cleanup’s yours,” she told the staff. “Make sure inventory’s done before you leave. Tomorrow’s order day.”
“Got it.”
“Night, Jules.”
“There’s cake left,” someone added. “Emily’s lemon mascarpone.”
Her favorite, but not tonight.
“Take it home,” she said, already at the door. She wanted out before someone else stopped her. Before someone else asked questions she didn’t know how to answer.
She stepped outside, but even as quick as she was, it wasn’t quick enough.
“Stay,” Emily called to her from the edge of the patio, where the lights ended and the shadows began. “Have a drink. Talk to the girls. You’ve been on since nine a.m. You’ve earned it.”
For a fleeting moment, Julia was tempted.
The familiar comfort of the people she cared about tugged at her.
But out in the torch-lit yard, beyond the patio, he was there.
Leland. Towering over everyone else, his orange armband a stark contrast to his dark shirt.
Alert, focused, monitoring the playground.
Her first thought: at least he wasn’t with anyone. Her second: anger at herself for caring. He wasn’t her business, no matter how much she wished he was.
She looked away. “You’re right. It has been a long day. I just want to go home.”
Emily didn’t argue or try to stop her. But her eyes held a sadness that made her chest ache. Leaving Leland and the Pointe behind meant leaving the friends she’d made here, too. With a heavy heart, Julia slipped into the shadows of the pathway and didn’t look back.
***
From his vantage point at the top of the rise near the pool, he could see the whole playground.
Two couples were making use of the suspension rigging in the trees, another pair had taken over the saucer swing, and a group of four had gotten creative with the inflatable duck and swan in the pool.
His gaze shifted between them, ever watchful for signs of trouble.
Nothing was out of line.
For weeks, this had become his routine—monitoring instead of playing. While it kept his mind occupied during his four-hour shifts, he invariably found himself scanning for a flash of honey blonde that never appeared. He told himself it was concern. If only it were that simple.
Putting distance between them was best for her. That was what he firmly believed. His feelings were irrelevant. Yet, he couldn’t deny the magnetic pull he felt, or the way his eyes constantly searched for her in every room he entered.
Obsession wasn’t a word he used lightly. But it fit.
Motion near the main house drew his attention. A woman in black, her ponytail swishing fast as she walked away.
He locked onto it, but before everything else faded away, he mentally shook himself. Distraction was unacceptable. There were club members present, scenes in progress. His responsibility didn’t shift because his attention did.
Duty came first. Always.
“Cover for me,” he called to Mateo, who was heading toward the bar.
“I just finished a shift in the playroom, man,” he said, obviously ready for a break, but one look at him, and Mateo’s expression changed. He nodded. “I’ve got it.”
Leland didn’t wait. He was on the move before the words left Mateo’s mouth.
He checked inside the house first and the catering kitchen. Julia was nowhere to be found. He spotted Emily on the patio and headed straight for her.
“Where is she?”
Emily didn’t pretend not to understand. “Gone.”
His jaw tightened. “How long?”
“Long enough.” More directly, “She couldn’t get out of here fast enough. It used to be her haven.”
Until you hung unspoken between them.
He flinched, and Emily saw it.
“What do you expect, Leland? You broke her heart.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have one.
He took the shadowed walkway beside the labyrinth, the fastest route to the front drive.
He reached it short of a run, and in time to see red taillights fading through the closed wrought-iron gate.
Leland stopped, slightly winded. Frustration surged, sharp and uncontrollable, and he slammed his fist against the nearest solid surface—a charcoal-gray Lexus. An alarm pierced the humid night air.
He barely registered it. The empty road beyond the gate was all he saw. Nothing left to follow.
Someone called his name from the steps near the security office. He didn’t answer.
He stood there, knuckles throbbing. The pain didn’t detract from the wanting. It didn’t listen to reason, discipline, or distance. It stayed—an ever-present ache for something he couldn’t have.
Shaking his hand, he turned and stalked toward the house.
Someone ran past him. The alarm cut off.
“What the fuck, Hale? You dented my car!”
“Send me the bill,” he growled, not slowing.
After ten years, he thought he’d learned to live with loneliness and self-denial. After Julia, he understood how wrong he’d been.