Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C ora could tell Julian didn’t trust Brandon, but maybe out of desperation or pure stubbornness, he stayed and listened.
“You need to break your habits and routines,” Brandon told Julian. “Do you have somewhere to stay where you’re not alone?”
Cora knew the answer. “We should go to Blueberry Bay. My family can help.”
“No, no one can know,” Julian said. “My family isn’t like yours.”
Julian stood up from the chair and went back to pacing.
“I think I should go,” he said.
“You need help.” Brandon didn’t sugarcoat his words. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms against his chest, watching Julian pace. “You need help. Otherwise, you’ll try to find something to take the edge off.”
“Let’s go to Blueberry Bay,” Cora urged again. “I can take you right now.”
Brandon pushed himself off the counter to face her. “And miss your show and possibly ruin your internship for him?” He walked straight to Julian. “Listen to me. You will not destroy Cora’s life because you can’t get your act together.”
“Brandon!” Cora raised her voice.
But Brandon didn’t back off. He stared Julian down.
“He’s right, Cora. I can’t ask you to stop your life for me.” Julian dropped into the chair. He laughed bitterly. “I wasn’t even a good boyfriend.”
Cora noticed Brandon glance over at her.
Cora ignored the look and walked to Julian. “You can stay here, and we can figure this out.”
Brandon put his hands on his waist. “The best thing he could do for himself is attend a meeting.”
Julian shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be just fine.” He got up and walked straight to the door. “Sorry about last night,” he said to Brandon, then turned to Cora. “And I’m sorry I’ve bothered you with this.”
He opened the door, and Brandon held out his hand, passing him a card. “This is my number. You can reach me anytime.”
Julian took the card but squished it in his fist and left without saying another word.
Cora went after him. “Julian!”
But he didn’t stop or turn around to look back. He kept walking down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. Cora chased him, and Brandon took that as his cue to leave.
When Brandon came out of the building, zipping up his jacket, Cora stood by herself.
“You didn’t have to yell at him,” she said.
Brandon tilted his head, unsure what he was missing about the guy. Sure, he had a ton of money and was what women probably found attractive in that preppy, rich boy way. But he didn’t understand why she wanted to help this guy. “He needs professional help.”
“He just needed a little bit of patience,” she said. “Not someone getting into his face.”
“Cora, he doesn’t deserve you.” Brandon shook his head. “Don’t throw everything you’ve worked for away for this guy.”
“I can’t just turn my back on him,” she said. “He needs help.”
Brandon frowned. “He can’t receive help unless he wants it. And that guy doesn’t want it.”
Brandon left after that. They never did talk about her walking out at the restaurant the night before. She returned to her apartment and considered calling Julian but decided against it.
She should call Brandon and apologize again for her behavior the other night and for dragging him into her mess. His words had stung because they were true. She had almost dropped everything for Julian again. And why?
It was summer love. She and Julian’s relationship had been that fast, fiery, burning connection that had come on hot and heavy and stopped just as quickly. Except her heart never stopped feeling something for Julian.
She went to redial Julian’s number when she noticed a glint of light on the floor. Hiding underneath her bed was a gold charm she had lost months ago. The gold mermaid had been given to her by her grandmother. She had completely forgotten about it. She picked it up and held it in her palm, squeezing her fingers around it.
She opened her palm and looked at the mermaid. All she wanted to do at that moment was drive to Blueberry Bay and see the mermaid statue. Not deal with Julian.
What was her problem when it came to Julian Abbott?
Yes, he had many desirable things—a good pedigree, wealthy family, elite education, and a fortune of five hundred careers—yet now she saw the red flags glaring at her. Always having a drink in his hand, the mood swings, the forgetfulness, the unreliability, and the unpredictability. When they had first started seeing each other, he had been so generous and thoughtful. Flowers were sent to her apartment, a car always picking her up, and over-the-top dinners and events she had only dreamt about.
Then, everything had abruptly stopped, and a week had gone by—no flowers, no calls, no extravagant dinners. Nothing. Then he’d shown up at her door, blaming his work schedule, begging forgiveness, and their whirlwind romance would continue until it wouldn’t.
After three months of this pattern of silence and then love bombing, she decided not to answer his calls after a week of silence. He didn’t try much after that; he just left a few messages.
Then he’d shown up at the restaurant.
She dialed Brandon’s number. No answer.
Then, her phone rang, and she didn’t even look to see who it was; she just answered it in case it was either Brandon or Julian. “Hello?”
“Cora? It’s me, Dad.” He let the silence hang between them as she gathered herself. Her father didn’t like silence. He usually crowded it with useless small talk, but he didn’t today.
“Do you need me to babysit?” she said sarcastically.
“No,” he said. “But I did call you to talk about last night.”
She lay down on her bed, unsure if she should cry or laugh at the events of the day. She might not have a job at this point. One of her only friends left in the city wasn’t answering her phone calls and probably hated her. The guy of her dreams was falling apart and didn’t want her help. Her father only wanted her help because he couldn’t get anyone else to do it.
She was about to confess everything and apologize for sending Brandon out to shoo him away when her dad said, “Did you think about talking to Rylie?”
“You want me to talk to your wife about going to your daughter’s wedding?” she asked, not understanding how he didn’t realize what a terrible position that put her in. “Does she even want to talk to me about it?”
“Come on, Cora,” he said. “She’s uncomfortable being there at your mom’s place.”
“She’s the stepmother of the bride,” Cora pointed out. “What do you want me to say?”
“It might be nice to go out to lunch or something.” His voice sounded as though he were lecturing her. “You’re so close to us. You could get to know Britney better, and Rylie can have someone to talk to.”
“I’m not babysitting Rylie or Britney at the wedding,” she said.
“I’m not suggesting you babysit your stepmother,” he shot back fast. “All I’m suggesting is that you get to know her better.”
There was an undercurrent in his tone.
“I have a show this week with some of my designs…” That she’d almost blown off for some guy.
“When is it?” her dad asked. “I could come by with Rylie and Britney after work.”
“It’s a fall collection of fabrics Madame Dubois is offering in her catalog,” she said, trying not to sound like she didn’t want him to come, but… she didn’t want him to come. “It’s not a place a toddler would want to be before bed.”
She waited to see if her dad would ask any questions. Did he know what a big deal this was for her? He never understood her art degree in textiles, but now it looked like it might pay off. Cora designed two pieces for the collection, and Madame Dubois displayed them front and center so everyone could see them. This could be big for her.
But her dad asked nothing.
Not that he had ever inquired about her stuff. He told her to get a “real” degree when she first started college as a painter. So, she took a couple of business courses to make him happy, but she also took an introduction course on textiles and never looked back. She loved the whole process. First, inspiration. It might be a leaf, a pattern on a book binding, or an ancient geometric design. She’ll sketch it out and play with it, finding its pattern so she can repeat it, yard after yard. She then created her dyes and painted on handmade silkscreens on the most beautiful fiber in the world, linen. She considered her work more like pieces of art. Her ultimate dream would be to design home décor and other linens using her designs. The versatility of textiles, their history, and the memories families would make with them excited her. She just wished her dad would be a little interested in something she felt so passionate about.
“I miss you guys,” her father said suddenly, catching her off guard. Her father didn’t talk about feelings.
“I miss you, too, Dad.” And she did, but strangely, she didn’t know what she missed. He wasn’t the father she had grown up with. Now, he was the father of her new half-sister, who tiptoed around half the time and asked for favors the other half. She needed to set up boundaries to avoid falling apart when he came around for favors.
“Are you sure you couldn’t spare an afternoon next weekend?” he said. “I was hoping to start?—”
“Maybe,” she said slowly. “I don’t know if I’ll have to work, but I’ll let you know.”
Nice boundary, Cora , she thought to herself.
When she hung up, she noticed she still held the charm. She stared down at it, studying the eloquent sea-maiden. She thought about what her grandmother would say. She’d tell her to start creating, start living—for herself.
Things needed to change in her life, but she would have to change. But, like Julian, she had no idea how.