Rising Dawn
J ulian pulled me into a warm embrace, after placing my favorite coffee drink on my nightstand. “Hey sleepyhead, it’s a nice day. Would you want to go for a walk?”
I’d been cooped up inside for what felt like days, surviving on peanut butter cookies while pouring myself into what was shaping up to be the first manuscript I’d ever finish. I had finally taken Mrs. Falloway’s advice to heart: write for my own purpose, not just to make a living.
California had in place a law that allowed workers to take five days off to recover from reproductive loss. I thought this was progressive and incredibly humane, because truly, I was in no place to show up for life, and I doubted that other women in my situation were too. I grieved in ways that worked for me, even if at times my behavior worried Julian.
While he had taken my miscarriage hard, he recovered faster than I did. He seemed to feel certain that we could get me pregnant again, which frankly, was likely true. And he was ready to try again with me, in a way that would align with my happiness. He’d also be sober, which was the responsible way to have children.
So yes, there was a bittersweet silver lining to everything. I could get busy again, without feeling overbearing nausea and fatigue. And I no longer had to worry about the statistics in the articles I’d read. They remained my best justification for my loss.
I cried the hardest when I was alone in the tub, hidden from the world. There, with nothing to shield me—naked and exposed—the pain felt sharper, more real. It was as though the water reflected not just my body, but my soul laid bare. It was as if I could see myself, stripped down to the core. I felt my uterus become hollow as the bleeding gradually ceased over the following days.
Julian inched his face close to mine. “Would you want to get lunch with me?” From the looks of it, he was not planning to go to the office. Maybe he was starting to really worry that I’d never get out of our apartment.
There was life out there. The sun was still shining, or at least I imagined it was, despite the heavy curtains blocking it. I’d spent the full five days writing here, in our bedroom, as if the world outside didn’t exist. And it had been what I needed, to finally let go.
He didn’t wait for my response about lunch. “They got Jess this morning. She made it across the border to Mexico. They were headed to Rio with her boyfriend and his brother. We think she manipulated them both to get back at Mark.”
I had never doubted that his team would find her eventually. Still, I felt immense relief. Jess was done, and with her, the chaos she had brought into our lives.
“Oliver’s team took them all out in self-defense,” Julian noted, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “So, there’s nothing left to worry about.” His deep-set eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Really?” I gave him a faint smile.
“Mexican police verified everything,” he squeezed my hand. “Nobody is getting into trouble.”
I was pretty sure it came with a hefty payment on the side.
“Thanks, Julian. She got what she deserved.” I felt no pity. Not after how coldly they’d tried to kill both of us with Sophie. There was a real chance I could have died down there, alone in that rat-infested shaft, next to my friend’s lifeless body. If possible, I never wanted to talk about Jess again.
“Is Sophie’s dad feeling any better?” I switched the subject. Mr. Dickens had requested extra protection for Sophie until they could find Jess, which meant the family house was practically surrounded by a SWAT team.
“Mark proposed—so now he’s got other things to worry about.” A subtle smile played on his lips.
My mouth kicked up for the first time in what felt like days.
“There’s also flowers for you in the living room.”
Judging from his look, these were important flowers.
“From?”
“Why don’t you go take a look?” he gently nudged me.
“Okay?” Feeling a little more awake, I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way out of the room. Walking up the steps, I noticed my breathing felt back to normal again. He didn’t follow, so it got me even more curious why he was leaving me to it.
“I’m sorry,” Valentina blurted out, standing up abruptly from our couch.
She looked herself. A girl with distinct supermodel qualities. A showstopper. A diva.
“I never doubted you,” I offered a small smile.
“Look Lucie, this whole thing with Bradley. It’s so stupid.” She approached with an enormous apology bouquet. “I should have been there for you through everything.”
“Val,” I grinned, “I get it. Love’s painful.”
She let out a frustrated sigh, leaving the bouquet down in my hands. It was big enough to kill someone with a pollen allergy.
“I just— I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Why didn’t I realize how much I was hurting you?”
I sat beside her. “Maybe you needed some space. Has Bradley left already?” I couldn’t help but be curious.
“Yeah, it feels like he left a hole in my chest,” she sulked, her voice softer now. “But this is unrequited love. And it’s almost ironic, Lucie. I’ve always been the one to break boys’ hearts. And now he’s breaking mine. I can’t seem to be able to get him out of my head.” Her face reddened. “Still, it doesn’t justify how I treated you.”
I looked at her, feeling a sharp pang of sympathy. It was hard to see Val like this—vulnerable. She’d always been the confident one, the one who could handle anything. Seeing her like this made me realize how deep of a connection she had to feel. This sucked. I would have wanted to see her happy.
“Lucie, do you know?” She sent me an honest glance, her eyes holding something difficult, something unspoken. She then looked around the room, as if expecting Julian to be nearby. From the looks of it, he was giving us the space to have our girl talk, staying out of earshot.
I shook my head. I wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to say. “No, but tell me,” I squeezed her hand to reassure her that it was okay to share whatever was on her mind. I was grateful that we were starting to find our way back to our friendship.
She glanced around once more as if making sure this conversation was meant to stay just between us. “He’s never told you how he felt because he wanted you to make the choice, to figure out what was best for you. But I think you deserve to know the truth.” She paused, her voice softer now.
I furrowed my forehead, confusion washing over me.
“I think he is not over you.” Val emphasized the “you,” making sure it resonated.
Suddenly, I felt sweat accumulate in my palms, the familiar warmth creeping up my skin as the weight of the moment hit me. My chest tightened, and I suddenly sank into a flashback—memories of us, carefree and alive, in Hawaii. The sound of the ocean, the sun warming our skin, the way we laughed without a care, as if nothing could touch us. It had been a perfect story… if I hadn’t already given my heart to someone else. My Hawaiian prince, I used to call him.
“Lucie?” Valentina’s voice brought me back, concerned. “You okay?”
I swallowed, my hands still clammy. “No, not at all.” I mustered just that. I’d always seen it in Bradley’s eyes—the love he had for me. I never questioned it, not really. It was there, in the way he looked at me, in the little things he did, in the way his body always seemed to mirror mine when we were together. But I’d never really seen it, not until now. Not until Valentina’s words brought it into sharp focus.
“Did he tell you this?” I pressed. I hated the fact that any of this could cause him pain.
“Not directly,” she admitted, “but he’s confessed that he loves another girl, and that’s why he says he can’t see me. And there’s just nobody else in his life but you. It just makes sense. Do you see it too?”
“We have a connection, Val,” I confessed. “But I can’t be right for him because I love Julian. I’m trying to understand what it all means on a deeper level, but I’m not ready to face it just yet. What am I supposed to do with all of this, you know?” I shrugged my shoulders in frustration. “I want him in my life as a friend, and I think we’d both prefer that over having nothing at all.”
Val jumped as we heard Julian’s footsteps before he appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, girls, but Mr. Dickens is on the line. He wants to thank Lucie personally,” Julian exclaimed, handing me his cell. Unlike me, he seemed full of energy, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and a checkered scarf. He flashed us both a smile so charming it could melt the room. My fiancé, my everything.
Valentina shot me an encouraging glance.
I took the phone from him. “Hi, Mr. Dickens,” I couldn’t help but sound weak-voiced, my words barely more than a whisper. My mind was consumed by Val’s revelation, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. A wave of guilt washed over me, leaving me feeling exposed and unsettled.
“Lucie, it’s so good to hear from you!” Sophie’s father’s voice was warm with sincerity. “I can’t begin to express how thankful I am for everything you’ve done to save my daughter. What a truly heroic act on your part.”
His joy was enough for me. “No worry Mr. Dickens, we all love Sophie.”
“I promised to award 20 million dollars to whoever led us to her.” He continued.
Well, I’d saved him money for sure…
“I want you to have it,” he announced. “I’d be truly offended if you say no. Please accept it from me as a reward for your courage, for bringing my child home.”
I hesitated. “Mr. Dickens, that’s too much. Sophie is my friend anyway.” Truly, I’d go into a fire for her without any reward.
Both Julian and Valentina slipped away to the kitchen area to fetch her a coffee. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Julian was already aware of this generous proposal. He appeared relaxed, but I could sense a hint of curiosity in him, as if he was subtly eavesdropping on our conversation.
“My daughter means everything to me. You took action that was beyond brave. I am not going to be missing the money, Lucie, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
After more than five years as Julian’s financial advisor, I knew he’d likely amassed a fortune. Still, this had to be a significant withdrawal from his bank account. “Mr. Dickens, it just doesn’t feel right to profit from her situation.” I objected. Part of me resisted not just the offer, but the idea of taking that kind of money. Maybe it was fear—fear of losing myself, of losing my purpose in the process.
“Nonsense, Lucie,” he replied, his tone warm yet resolute. “Sophie mentioned you’re planning a big purchase, and she insists we make it happen. Besides, we’re practically family at this point.”
To be honest, I could really use the money to buy Hart & Quill . But it didn’t take long for me to realize how unrealistic my goal was—trying to make it on my own, especially with an MBA soon taking up most of my time. I knew I wasn’t going to come close to the amount I’d initially set for myself.
Julian shot me another look, his eyes filled with quiet encouragement as if silently urging me to accept. I could almost hear his voice in my head, making his usual argument—that I was going to be his wife no matter what. That within a day of marrying him, I’d be one of the richest women in California, regardless of anything else. He’d made it crystal clear that a prenuptial agreement wasn’t even on the table, according to his principles.
I beamed back at him, feeling a flutter in my chest. It never ceased to amaze me how gorgeous he was, how perfectly nature had designed him, almost as if life had crafted him with intention—perhaps knowing how it had initially put him at a disadvantage.
I exhaled. “Okay, Mr. Dickens. Please know I am grateful.”
“Come celebrate at our house today,” he invited, his voice thick with emotion. “Mark’s engaged to Sophie, in case you didn’t know already.”
“Yes, Julian’s told me. I’m so excited for them, and I’ll be there,” I promised, emerging from the emotional cave I’d built for myself. I was determined to show up, and I definitely intended to bring Valentina along as well. It felt reassuring to know that our friendship had found its footing again.
Julian now appeared completely absorbed in his conversation with her, as they discussed strategies for growing her Poshbabe Boutique . His addiction, at least for the moment, seemed behind him. He seemed ready to face the world once more, one sportscar at a time. I loved him in ways that seemed fated, and unbreakable. Even if it meant constantly wrestling with the ghosts of his past. For now, they seemed asleep—quiet, but never truly gone.
I placed my hand over my stomach, feeling it was the last time I would do so with this pregnancy. I had carried my baby for its entire life, and I would love it for the rest of mine.