33. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
ANDREA
“Mr. and Mrs. Kline, I’m so happy you came,” I say, accepting the hand that Thomas offers and the hug that Adela does.
When I invited them to Julian’s gallery, I didn’t expect them to attend, but I’m glad they have. I suspect they’ll like what he has to say. The foundation speaks for itself, but I understand why some people want to get as much information as possible before investing time and money.
“Oh, we wouldn’t miss it! Thomas’s father has been talking nonstop about it. I have a few friends who adore Julesian’s work,” Adela tells me. Winking, she adds, “What an excellent choice in a suitor, Miss Sommers.”
I smile softly. “Tell me about it. I’ve pinched myself at least a hundred times since I’ve met him.”
She barks a laugh, smacking the back of her hand against her husband’s chest. Her ink-black hair glistens under the lighting.
She stands out elegantly in her metallic silver gown.
She clutches onto her husband like the perfect accessory.
His mustache has been styled to curl upward.
They both look like they’ve stepped out of a magazine.
I motion toward the crowded room. “Please, take a look around and enjoy yourselves. Julian will be speaking in about thirty minutes.”
“If we don’t see you again this evening, we’ll see you when we come by to pick Sybil up from practice tomorrow,” Thomas says as he inclines his head.
I wave goodbye and then quickly drop my hand when I feel silly. Once they’ve wiggled their way into the hoard of people, I start to browse the room for Julian. My shoulders deflate when I can’t find him.
“Hey.” I turn to find Abigail eating a pastry. “Would you believe me if I said I had to put Carter in a headlock to get this?”
I laugh. “Yes, actually, I would.”
There’s a gentle lightness on her face as she studies me. “My brother really likes you.”
“I hope so.” I grin. “He is my boyfriend, after all.”
She shakes her head, swallowing her food. “No. He really likes you.”
My heart drums in my chest. “It’s still pretty new. . .so, I—We’re. . .well—it’s—”
“Woah, easy.” A smile grows across Abigail’s face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I take a breath. “You didn’t.”
Her brows lift to her hairline. “So, it’s not serious yet, then?”
I can tell by her question and how she’s watching me so closely that she’s making sure my intentions are good with her brother. Little does she know that we both have the same intentions and neither of them has us coming out on the other side without a few battle wounds.
There have been moments between Julian and me where I could see us being something real, but then I have to force myself back into reality.
I can’t fall for someone who doesn’t feel the same way.
I can’t afford to take that risk. My feelings for him are different from what I experienced with Mason—that was high school love.
Out here in the real world, it’s terrifying to even suspect such a thing might be inching its way into a perfectly intact platonic relationship.
I don’t even know what love is. The only kind I’ve known betrayed me. How can someone like me know how to spot the real kind? Julian and I are playing pretend, and my mind and my heart are having one hell of a time arguing about it.
With that thought, I give her what I can.
“The truth is, I can’t imagine not seeing him every day.
He’s been something my heart’s been reaching for since I can remember reaching for anything at all.
I just couldn’t identify it until I met him.
” My mouth tugs upward. “So, if you’re asking how much I care about your brother, the answer is, I care enough to stay. ”
She blinks away the tears in her eyes and clears her throat. “Alrighty then. That sounds good to me.”
My eyes finally find what they’ve been looking for and my heart skips a beat in excitement, but then I see the long-manicured nails resting on his arm. I make a weird sound in the back of my throat that catches Abigail’s attention and has her following my line of sight.
One minute he’s spitting champagne in my mouth and the next, he’s smiling at a beautiful brunette woman who doesn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.
“Oh, that’s just Francesca,” Abigail informs me calmly. “And look, he’s removing her hand.”
Sure enough, he politely brushes her hand off him and takes a step back. I blow out a breath. “Who’s Francesca?”
Out of my peripheral vision, I see her glance at me. “Julian hasn’t introduced you yet?”
My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I look over at her. “No, was he supposed to? ”
She nods slowly and then shakes her head with a shrug, seeming just as puzzled as me. “Maybe he changed his mind.”
Not being able to help myself, I glance back to where Francesca digs through her purse and hands him a card.
He accepts it swiftly before tucking it in the inner pocket of his jacket.
“About what?” I ask and when my question is met with silence, I turn to find Abigail staring at the artwork surrounding us with a scrunched face, finding them extra fascinating.
Sighing, I decide to find out for myself and make my way toward the man now standing alone. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his slacks as he gazes out into the crowd. I wonder if he knows he’s frowning at his guests.
“Hey,” I say as I approach, and oh, boy. The way his entire face lights up the second his eyes land on me shouldn’t make my blood pressure skyrocket.
“I’ve been looking for you.” His arm bands around my waist and his lips press against my forehead in a lingering kiss.
“Here I am.” My voice sounds strange. I clear my throat as I look up at him. “Who was that you were talking to?”
His thumb grazes my chin delicately. “I’ve spoken to many people tonight; you’ll need to be more specific.”
“I think Abigail said her name was Fantastica. . .or something. The touchy one with the big boobs.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Francesca?”
I shrug. “That might be it.”
“Andrea,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening on my hip. “She’s no one.”
“No one with business cards,” I mutter, crossing my arms .
“Keep touching me,” he states quietly, his voice sounding like a gentle warning.
My head rears back and I blink. “What?”
“If you’re going to be upset with me, don’t distance yourself. Be upset with me and still touch me. Give me a chance to explain.”
“But I’m. . .” I blow out a breath. “Fine.” When I step further into him, his arms cocoon around me and I admit, it does make me feel better.
His head dips so that his lips are against my ear as he says, “I will say this once so that you will never have to question me again. Understand?”
I nod.
“I’m unavailable to everyone but you. Real or not, Andrea, I’m not the kind of man who forgets what he has.”
My lungs constrict. “Julian—”
“I’m not finished.” One of his hands softly cups the nape of my neck. “She’s a real estate agent. I was going to ask her to help you find a new place, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind?” I ask, breathless.
He nods, jaw clenching.
“Why?”
His forehead rests against mine and he shakes his head. I watch as his eyes fall to my mouth. He takes in a shaky breath before slamming his eyes shut. “Julian,” I whisper, bringing my hands up to cup his face. “What are we doing?”
He opens his eyes, and I see a war there. “I don’t know.”
“Ok,” I say, giving him a small smile so that he knows we’re fine.
“I have to give my speech.”
“I know. I’m sitting in the front row. If you lose the words, give me the signal we agreed on last night and I’ll make a scene. ”
This makes him laugh. “That won’t happen.”
I huff, rolling my eyes. “Show me. Just in case.” He sighs and then rubs his index finger and thumb together. I beam. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything you do, Andrea.”
EVERYONE IN THE GALLERY goes silent. There are so many people that a crowd has filed out the front doors, letting the cold breeze in.
Julian faces his audience with skilled professionalism and grace.
He’s definitely done this a few times and I immediately know this is not a man that chokes under pressure.
“I wanted to come up here and tell you all the things I hope to accomplish with this foundation, but I don’t think the unforeseeable future can help convince you what’s worth it.
What I can tell you is what’s happening now in our foster care system.
I want to start by saying that I was eight years old when I was first placed.
I’ve lived in five homes. To some of you, that may not sound so bad, but when you’re young and searching for your place in the world, you need solid ground to do it.
We’re numbers—a statistic and I say we because the truth is that once you’re an orphan, you never really stop feeling like one. ”
My fist wraps around my heart and tightens in my chest as the backs of my eyes burn.
“At least that’s what I can still say at age thirty-two.
Nearly 80 percent of children in the system have mental health issues.
These illnesses range from depression to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Children need to feel safe to thrive and they need outlets for their emotions.
This is why I can’t do it alone. This is why I ask for help—which is no easy fret for a kid who’s used to surviving on his own.
” He swallows thickly, his mouth pulling into a frown.
“The system is failing them by forgetting one very important factor—we’re all human and yearning for a future we may or may not see so clearly.
Some of you may find that they’re given the same opportunities as anyone, and where that can be true, they have to work ten times harder simply because they do not have people to help them.
Most are held back by circumstance and the lack of those wanting to take a chance on them. ”
His eyes search out his sister. “Lucky for me, I had this incredibly annoying friend named Abigail, who refused to give up on me. I built The Prince Foundation for future generations without an Abigail. Their goals and their dreams are not less just because you don’t know them.
Humanity should extend beyond those you love.
So, start now. Be the beginning of something extraordinary. Be someone’s people.”
The entire room stands to applaud him, but he’s only looking at me.