Chapter 34
Julian
Ihave to tell her. She’s going to find out anyway.
Will she still trust me after? Fuck. I don’t know if I’d trust me.
It was dark enough during sex that she didn’t notice, but the clock is ticking.
I’m finishing the dishes and she’s in the shower.
She’s going to see me without my shirt eventually and I’ll have to explain.
As if I’ve summoned her, she slides her arms around me. Fresh from the shower, her scent fills my nostrils.
“Hi, boyfriend. Are we having a sleepover tonight?”
I dry my hands on the dish towel I’m holding and turn in her arms. “Do you want to have a sleepover?”
She nods as she presses a light kiss to my lips.
“Okay, sweet girl, whatever you want.” I kiss her back. “But can I—can we talk first? I have something to tell you.”
She takes a step back, sliding her arms from around me. She doesn’t let go but lets them rest loosely on my hips as she tracks my face. Her eyes bounce between mine, trying to gauge what I’m about to say. Neither of us likes surprises. And I hate that I’m putting that low-key panic in her eyes.
I take her cheeks in my hands and kiss her lips again, then her cheek, until I’m nuzzling her ear. Softly I speak into the shell. “I need to tell you something. Show you something.”
She nods against my lips and backs up. “You said that already. So tell me. Show me.” Her words are clipped, eyes like saucers searching mine for answers.
“Wanna go sit down in the living room first?”
“No.” Her hands are resting lightly on her hips now, her eyes still bouncing between mine. “Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Julian. Spit it out.”
“Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender and, standing barefooted in the kitchen, facing her, I tell her about my earbuds search and spilling her nightstand. As I talk, her hands fidget with the drawstrings on her sweats. “I didn’t intend to read your journal.”
Her hands drop.
“I swear I didn’t, Ever. I just saw my name and I was so crazed .
. . I’m not making excuses. There isn’t one.
I’m sorry, Ever.” She looks up at me now, but I can’t read her.
I continue talking. “I only read the one page.” Her eyebrows raise, and she nods slowly, like she understands, but her expression says she doesn’t.
When she drops her chin to her chest and starts rubbing her fingers across her forehead, I forge on.
“I feel like a piece of shit. I really am sorry, Everly.” I hold my hands out low at my sides, palms up.
The movement draws her eyes up from the floor, back to mine. “Please say something,” I plead.
“It’s okay.” She says it quietly, and I’m already shaking my head.
“It’s not okay.” I don’t want her to let me off that easy.
“Look, Julie,” she cuts me off. “Am I jumping at the chance to let someone read my journal? No. But you weren’t trying to .
. . intentionally invade my privacy. And to be honest, that letter doesn’t say anything I wouldn’t say to your face now.
Maybe not back when I wrote it, but now . . . I probably already have.”
“There’s something else.”
She purses her lips and waits.
I reach for the hem of my shirt, whip it over my head and watch her eyes roam my torso. I clock the moment she zeros in on it. She steps closer and reaches out her hand.
With her index finger she traces the fresh scabs of the tattoo. Her muted gray eyes fill and turn stormy. “You covered your tattoo?”
I shrug. “I filled it in and added your name.” She’s tracing the letters now.
FOR EVER. Her name. My name for her. “It’s your handwriting.
From the letter.” She looks up at me now with a couple long, slow blinks.
Inquisitive, waiting, but . . . happy? Please let her be happy.
I clear my throat and continue. “That’s how I got your signature. I traced it from the page.”
Now her eyes leave mine and drop to the tattoo again. Her cheeks puff out and she exhales, deflating them. She’s nodding again, still not looking at me but the tattoo.
“I’m so sorry, Ever.”
“You already said that.” Like her words, her eyes are soft raising to mine.
Her smile is crooked. Teasing? Her smile is crooked but claims her whole face as she reaches out with her index finger again and traces her name.
“And you put me on your skin.” Her eyes go a shade darker and brim with unshed tears.
“Don’t cry.”
As soon as I say it, one tear spills. She quickly swipes it, but another takes its place.
She’s breaking me. My sweet, sweet Ever.
I reach out to cup the back of her neck and pull her to me.
She wraps both arms around me so tightly and lays her cheek against my pec, shaking with sobs.
The more she tries to control it, the harder she cries.
“Shh, Ever. I got you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know. It’s not that,” she murmurs. “You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“Ever.” I drag her name out. “Stop. That’s not true.
” My voice is barely a whisper. I’m rocking her back and forth in my arms and saying anything that comes to mind to soothe her.
She seems to completely forgive me, so why is she so upset?
I say what I’m thinking. “What’s got you so upset?
If it’s not the journal, then what? You’re breaking my heart here. ”
With a watery laugh, she asks, “This one?” She traces the now-shaded heart lightly with the pad of her index finger.
“Hmpf,” I half laugh. “Nope, that one’s permanent. The one underneath it.” I kiss the top of her head. “Don’t cry, okay? Talk to me.”
She sniffs and shakes her head. “I’m okay. I just . . . I’m happy, Julian. With you, with us, our life. I don’t want anything to mess that up.”
“Not possible,” I say, my lips resting on her temple. “We are happy, right?” She nods against my chest and drags a fist down her cheek. “We deserve to be happy, Ever.
“We do. We are.” She sniffs again and looks up at me, still holding on tightly. “The happiest.”
I nod. “There she is. I love you, sweet girl.”
“I love you so much, Julie.” She tucks her head against my chest again, arms tightening.
“You and me, Ever.” I sigh into her hair.
Her exhale is shaky, like her voice. “You and me,” she murmurs.