23. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
ANDREA
A hundred things are running through my mind today and ninety-nine of them are what happened with Julian and me in the storage closet.
After we emerged, we found the hallway empty.
However, when we took our seats back at the table, the guys were tossing knowing smirks our way.
Josephine got the message though—Julian is no longer up for grabs.
A scowl was glued to her face for the remainder of the night.
To my disappointment, Julian practically ran away from me the moment we entered the apartment last night.
“So, you dry-humped him in a closet, did ya?” Maisie asks, amusement coating her wide grin.
She’s sitting in front of a vanity, and a puny makeup artist named Fiona is touching up her concealer.
I’m waiting backstage with her at the morning show.
Her publicist insisted she talks about her upcoming movie.
She’s in damage control to remove the media’s attention from some rumors about an affair she had with her married director, which she told me isn’t true.
There are a few pictures that got out that make me understand why people are asking questions, but if she says nothing happened, then I believe her.
“For a millisecond, maybe not even, so it doesn’t count.” I toss my fourth Hershey Kiss into my mouth and reach for another in the candy dish .
“Oh, it counts,” she assures me.
“It’s against the rules for it to count. . .” My head tilts as I frown in thought. “I think.”
“But then he apologized?” she asks, her lips pursed.
“Yup.” I sigh, falling back into the world’s most uncomfortable chair. I may as well be sitting on a cardboard box. “I think I need to sleep with someone else, so I don’t try to have sex with my boyfriend.” Now that I’ve said it out loud it sounds like a terrible idea.
My words cause Fiona to look over at me with wide eyes. Maisie snorts and tells the girl, “Don’t mind her. It’s been a long time.”
Fiona’s head dips, a blush tinting her cheeks. “I get it.”
“You can always borrow AJ, he’s pretty good in the sack.” She’s referring to her ex-boyfriend from a few years back. They still hook up from time to time. I’m pretty sure she’s joking though, but not positive.
“I will not have it arranged like some harlot, Maisie. I’d rather it be with a stranger, anyway. That way it doesn’t get messy.”
“Messy like what you’ve got going on for you now?”
“Everything is perfectly under control. It’s against the rules, so—”
She hums, unbelieving.
I wiggle my finger at her. “Don’t give me that look.”
Her response is another hum, but she decides to drop it—for now, I presume. “Have you decided whether you’ll go out with me this weekend?”
“Is it important to you that I do?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Yay, thank you!” she cheers, clapping her hands.
Fiona sprays Maisie’s face with setting spray. “You’re all set.” She turns to grab a handheld mirror and hands it to Maisie, who admires herself.
“I’d totally kiss you right now if it wouldn’t ruin my lip gloss.”
Fiona chuckles as she starts to clean the stylist station.
The door opens and a head pops in. “We’re live in ten, Miss Dupont.”
“Roger that.” She turns to me as she stands. She’s dressed in a denim halter neck top, a mini skirt, and pink wedge sandals despite it being the middle of November. Her hair is back to her natural honey blonde. “You’ll be here when I get back?” she asks,
“Stress eating? Absolutely.”
She chuckles. “I’ll see if my assistant can grab you something from the Deli down the street or you’ll upset your stomach with all that chocolate.”
She’s out the door before I can respond. I huff a breath, looking over at Fiona. “Is it just me or is she getting the hang of this famous thing?”
Grinning, she says, “Definitely the latter. People adore her. She’s killing it.”
A rush of pride shoots through me. My best friend is killing it.
EVEN THOUGH MY NERVES are frayed, I feel relieved waiting in a corner booth at Rocket Diner for Julian and Carter to arrive.
We meant to tell him this a while ago, but we’ve been anxious about how he would react.
It feels wrong to lie to him, but we both agreed that he’s not good at keeping secrets.
We attended a charity brunch yesterday, and Julian seemed lighter. Potential investors were not only intrigued by his foundation but eager to learn more. Julian handled the attention with ease, effortlessly securing a couple of promising business meetings.
As for my own hopes, however, there were no stolen moments in dimly lit storage closets, no brushes against forbidden territory, and definitely no lingering looks. It was all professional and proper. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped for a break in decorum.
I know it’s best if we stick to the script, lest we want to break rule number 9—which I’m learning may be hard to avoid. The longer I spend time with Julian, the more I never want to stop.
I blow out a breath, tapping my fingers on the table as my eyes roam the vibrant diner that captures the spirit of the 50s in every detail.
Checkered black-and-white tiles cover the floor, adding flare to the red vinyl booths and metallic bar stools lined up around a long counter.
A neon jukebox hums tunes softly into the air.
The walls are lined with classic posters, making the space feel like you’ve stepped into a time capsule.
“Here you are, darlin’,” the waitress says as she sets down my strawberry milkshake that’s in a tall, frosty glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry.
“Thank you.” I offer her a warm smile, wrapping my fingers around the cold glass.
The door dings, announcing a customer entering.
The diner shrinks as two tall figures walk in.
Spotting me immediately, they both head my way.
I lift my hand and wave awkwardly. With a weak smile, I swipe my palms on my black leggings, which I’d thrown on with tennis shoes and an oversized gray hoodie, fully embracing my day off.
“It’s forty degrees out, and you ordered a milkshake?” Carter’s brows furrow in a mix of annoyance and worry as he takes a seat across from me. Dressed casually as ever in a baseball cap, jeans, and a hoodie, his cheeks are red and chapped from the cold.
“Did you two walk all the way here?” I ask. As my gaze shifts to Julian, I’ve made a critical mistake. His cheeks are also rosy, and he’s dressed in his signature suit, looking so incredibly out of place in this diner. Something in my chest tightens as I take him in.
Carter slides over, making room, but Julian sidesteps him to sit next to me. His eyebrows shoot up at the act.
“Hi,” Julian says, his voice low, that familiar warmth making the cold of the diner vanish.
“Hi.” Oh god, I can’t look away from him. He’s not your real boyfriend, dummy. Compose yourself.
Without thinking, I reach over to smooth his wind-torn hair that’s causing a strand to stick up on top of his head. His eyes stay locked on me as I flatten the stubborn hair, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “You’re a mess, Mr. Havord,” I say.
“What would I do without you?” he murmurs, amused by my fussing.
I finally tame his hair, and I meet his eyes. “You’d go around looking like a normal human being.”
He laughs, the sound throaty. It’s enough to make my heart thump.
Speaking of throats, one clears on the other side of the table and this time, it’s Julian and I who freeze. We turn in sync to see Carter, his arms crossed and jaw set.
“What. The. Fuck.”
“Funny story. . .” I start, letting out a weak laugh. “We’re uh—” I look to the man next to me for assistance.
“Together,” Julian says smoothly, reaching for my hand under the table, his fingers lacing through mine with practiced ease .
Carter tracks the movement, and he blinks in surprise. “The fuck do you mean together ?”
“As in dating,” Julian clarifies, his tone steady.
He stares at us blankly for a moment before a laugh burst out of him. “Get outta here.” Julian and I give each other uneasy looks and Carter settles into a solemn state when he notices. “Oh shit, you’re serious.”
“Yes,” Julian confirms.
Carter’s eyes narrow, scanning the both of us. “Why her?”
My head rears back, offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He clicks his tongue, his eyes rolling. “It wasn’t a dig.”
“Sure felt like one,” I mutter.
He sighs, swiping a hand over his jaw. “It wasn’t.”
Julian jumps in before we can go further off track. “We know it’s a lot to take in or understand.” He glances over at me, and the warmth in his eyes feels so genuine that I almost believe it. “We’re just as surprised as you are.”
Carter scoffs, tapping his knuckles on the table. “Doubt it,” he says, his eyes settling heavily on me. “My best friend? Andrea, are you serious?”
I fix him with a hard look. “It’s not like that. Don’t make this out to be some kind of betrayal.”
“Carter,” Julian interjects to steal the attention away from me.
His thumb caresses my skin and I wonder if he knows he’s doing it.
“Our relationship has nothing to do with you. It’s entirely separate.
You know that I don’t take anything lightly.
When I commit, I’m committed. As unexpected as Andrea was.
. .she’s been an exceptional addition to my life. I’ll need you to respect that.”
My cousin stares at Julian in tense silence and I feel as though there’s an entire conversation passing between them that I can’t quite interpret. Finally, I see it—barely—but it’s there. A small dip of his chin.
He huffs a laugh. “I never in a million years thought this would happen.”