12. Julian
CHAPTER 12
JULIAN
A week drags by, each day stretching longer than the last. Dread and anticipation mount as the reopening of the Langford Building draws near.
Finally, relief comes early one morning when I'm jolted awake by a phone call. It's one of the detectives that’s been investigating the incidents at the building. With a neutral, disinterested voice, he informs me that the building has been cleared for us to reenter and continue our work, but he offers nothing else to ease my anxiety.
"We're making progress on the investigation, Mr. Rodriguez, but unfortunately, I can't disclose any specific leads at this time," he explains. It's good to know they haven't given up, but the lack of concrete information is unsettling.
When my crew and I arrive at the site, the whole energy of the group has changed from the easy comradery we usually enjoy. The mood is tense, the men talking in hushed tones as they fidget uncomfortably. There's an overlying sense of urgency that covers the entire site and presses down on us almost tangibly.
Gabriel stands away from the crew, his usually impassive demeanor replaced with visible stress. He’s clearly concerned about the delays and the impact on our timeline, just as I am.
"We need to push hard to make up for lost time," I encourage the team, echoing Gabriel's unspoken worries. "I know it’s been tough, but let’s pull together and get back on track."
There's a round of nods and murmurs of agreement, a collective rallying of spirits as tools are picked up and tasks assigned with renewed vigor.
From across the parking lot, I spot Natalie by her car, talking with Benny and Lauren. The sight of her, even from this distance, sends a familiar tug through my chest. She's laughing at something Benny says, and the sound floats across the cool morning air, beautiful and poignant.
I want to go to her, to explain myself, to apologize for the mess I’ve made of us. But I remember her words, clear and resolute, asking for professional distance. She doesn’t want to talk to me, at least not about anything beyond work, and I have to respect that, no matter how much it kills me to stay away. I know it's for the best though, so I turn back to my team, trying to engross myself in the day's work.
But as the day progresses, I find myself stealing glances in her direction. My attraction to Natalie remains undiminished, a constant hum in the back of my mind. Each time I catch a glimpse of her, whether she’s pointing out a detail to Lauren or jotting down notes, the pull grows stronger, and yet, simultaneously, more painful.
Once, our eyes nearly meet, and I see her quickly look away, her body language closed off. She feels miles away from me now, unreachable. Her avoidance is pointed and hurts more than the words she's previously spoken.
Every part of me aches, yearning to forget all the reasons we've decided to stay apart, to bridge the gap between us with words, with touch.
But again, I don't. Even if my resolve is shaking, Natalie has set clear boundaries for this professional relationship. I have to put that above whatever selfish desires are fighting against my faltering sense of reason.
Instead, I force Natalie from my mind, turning back to the job at hand. Gabriel’s distress becomes a focal point for my attention, providing a necessary distraction from the personal turmoil simmering beneath the surface. The concerns we’re all carrying show most plainly on his face, etched deep into his heavy brow despite the quick progress we are making.
I decide to work alongside him for a while, modeling an authoritative evenness that he slowly begins to follow. By the end of the day, as tools are put away and the crew disperses, Gabriel's spirits appear lifted, and I take pride in the satisfaction of supporting my team.
But the pleasure is short-lived.
I hear Natalie before I see her, her footsteps clicking rhythmically on the stone ground. I don’t look right away, but my whole body tenses.
Gabriel appears at my side, a wry smile playing at his lips as he observes me. "Still haven't managed to land that one, eh, Julian?" he quips, nodding subtly towards Natalie.
His comment irks me; Gabriel's timing for humor often skates the edge of appropriateness, and right now, I simply don't have the patience for it.
I shoot him a look that's meant to close down any further commentary. He raises his hands in mock surrender and, with a chuckle, finally heads off, leaving me alone to face Natalie.
As she nears, the air seems charged, an expectant electricity that I'm becoming all too familiar with. She doesn’t hesitate, launching straight into the heart of professional matters, perhaps as a way to maintain a safe, neutral ground.
"I'm moving on to the biggest part of the interior renovation soon—the Grand Hall," she begins, her tone all business. "The fresco ceiling and walls will need to be touched up by hand. It’s delicate work."
I nod, trying to remember what the hell fresco means, but I'm too distracted by the purse of her lips, the scattering of freckles across her nose. "Sounds like a major undertaking," I respond, trying to keep my voice even.
"It will be. I need to know if you'll be finished with the renovations on this side of the building by then," she continues, her gaze steady on mine. "Any vibrations from machinery could be a problem for the art restoration."
I have to swallow down the involuntary image that her choice of words conjures in my mind. "I'll do my best," I assure her, fighting to stay grounded in the present.
Her eyes search mine, looking for a reassurance I can’t promise, and I feel a surge of something more than professional concern. The desire to protect, to provide, to be the person she can rely on; it all wells up, clouding the professionalism I'm desperately trying to maintain.
"Thank you, Julian," she says softly, and there’s a brief moment where something passes between us, a flicker of the connection that neither of us can fully deny. Natalie steps back, physically widening the gap that the conversation had momentarily closed. "I appreciate it. Really."
"Of course, Nat. It’s important to me that your project succeeds, too," I reply, heartbeat spiking.
Gabriel suddenly reappears at my side, breaking the lingering tension with his abrupt return. "Forgot my jacket," he awkwardly supplies, moving towards a pile of clothing left near the entrance. He grabs a plain black hoodie and quickly scurries out the way he came.
As Gabriel exits, leaving us alone again, Natalie's voice pulls me back to the immediate concerns. "Honestly, even with Benny and Lauren’s help, I don't know if we can catch up," she confesses, her frustration evident. "We're so far behind, and the detailed work we need to do on the paintings can't be rushed."
I nod, carefully navigating the line between professional conversation and emotional support. "I get that, Nat, I really do. We're behind as well," I say.
Her nose wrinkles; her telltale sign that she's holding back a wave of emotion. "It's not the same, though. You have a whole team. I have three people, and the work we do is painstaking and complex on a level that doesn't even compare."
The remark stings a bit, not because it isn’t true, but because it’s colored with a bitterness that Natalie has never thrown at me before. "I know the scale isn't the same," I reply, my voice growing firmer, "but the pressure is. Every part of this project is critical, Natalie. I'm trying to coordinate a ton of moving parts, and I'm just as worried as you are about meeting our deadlines."
Natalie’s lets out a huff, an unfiltered annoyance that makes me wince. “Yeah, well, our work is completely different. Just make sure to have this part of the building done by next week, please, so I can start work on the fresco.”
I’m not in the mood to argue anymore. “I’ll do my best,” I repeat, my emotional energy completely drained.
She nods, pulling back on her offense. "I'll look over our timelines, see where we can give and take a bit."
“Sure. Thanks.”
Our conversation is stilted. Awkward. I wish we could go back to how things were, not just the previous week, but all those years ago.
As Natalie finally turns to leave, I watch her walk away, more determined than ever to find a balance that could help both our projects—and maybe, just maybe, allow us to reach some point of mature friendship.
As I head to my car, my mind still churns with thoughts of her…and project timelines and everything else that's crowding my plate. Striding out to the parking lot, I spot Gabriel standing near where the other guys usually gather. He’s on his phone, and even from a distance, his conversation seems intense, his body language tight.
“Fine, Mason. Whatever. See you Sunday.”
As I approach, Gabriel's call ends abruptly, and he pockets his phone with a harsh movement.
"Everything okay?" I ask casually, trying not to sound too probing.
Gabriel looks up, his usual easy smile appearing. "Yeah, all good. Just a friend being an asshole. Honestly, it’s not unexpected." His tone is nonchalant, but the look in his eyes tells me that whatever just happened has rattled him.
I nod, trying to keep the conversation light and not get involved in his personal business. "I hope all the chaos around here hasn’t caused you any problems," I add, gesturing vaguely back towards the building, symbolic of the recent troubles we've had.
"Not at all," Gabriel assures me, his smile broadening a bit. "It’s been interesting, to say the least. Keeps the job from getting boring, right?" His laugh is easy, more genuine this time.
I laugh in return, appreciating his effort to keep things upbeat. "That’s one way to look at it. Thanks for hanging in there. Having a solid crew makes all the difference."
Gabriel nods, his gaze shifting briefly back to his phone before meeting mine again. "I'm here for the long haul, Julian. Just let me know what you need."
As we part ways and I head to my car, the name Mason echoes in my mind. I knew a Mason once, too—back in the military. We were good friends, close enough to share personal stories and back each other up in tight situations.
It's funny how the most innocent coincidences can send you back in time, waking up old memories and making them feel as real as if you were experiences them again right now. Hearing the name Mason brings back an old, familiar stutter of hurt.
Mason never tried contacting me after I left the military. Never returned my attempts to reach him. And never told me why. Yet another friend I lost to time and distance.
Sitting in my car, I turn the key in the ignition but pause before pulling out. The recent increase in my general loneliness has me almost desperate for some kind of connection, and I consider if it might be worth it to try reaching out to Mason again.
But it doesn’t matter; Mason and I haven’t spoken in years. I got over it and moved on. With everything I'm dealing with now, reconnecting with a fair weather friend would be absurd, another distraction.
As I drive through the quiet streets, the surrounding silence becomes deafening. Natalie's reappearance in my life was a lifeline; the first real connection I've experienced in years. Despite the complexities of our history, being around her made me feel like I wasn't going through this life alone.
I know this is a huge inflation of the whirlwind we experienced. And I don't think it necessarily meant as much to Nat as it did to me.
I know I need to stay away from her. For her sake, for mine, for Aria's. But it’s difficult. Impossible.
I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.