Seeing Julia (15 page)

“Right,” he says. “I guess that’s it.” He inclines his head and gets a hangdog look that must just drive every female within thirty feet of him wild.

I’m amused, enjoying the power that teasing him gives me. “Have always gotten your way and things have always gone your way, I bet.” I shake my head side to side. “No wonder you and Evan were best friends. Other than Elizabeth … I mean … up until his very last moment, he was the luckiest guy I knew.” My eyes fill with tears and I try to laugh, shake off this moment that’s turned gloomy within seconds.

“Julia.” Jake leans closer to me. His finger catches a trailing tear running down my face. I practically shudder at his touch. The emotions and fatigue of the past twenty hours overwhelm me. His Armani scent comes at me and this heady sensation has me drifting toward him ever closer.

“What?” I say.

I look up at him and he’s so close and I lift my face even higher to meet his. The space embraces us both. We’re inches apart, his breath blows at my hair, and mine reaches his.

This hallway, once just a rectangular representation of beige-colored walls with the proper adornment of Monet replicas, even though Evan wanted to get the real thing and I told him no we didn’t need to spend money that way, metamorphoses into a sanctuary protecting us both. We suspend belief and time right here. And, even though there’s a sleeping baby ten feet away from us, and the inner circle mills about downstairs a mere hundred feet from us with any one of them possibly walking up those stairs at any minute and discovering us, we move closer.

There’s all these reasons why this shouldn’t be happening that begin with I was Evan’s wife and he was Evan’s best friend and about to marry someone else. All these reasons.

But no, there’s only the two of us. The only reason that counts.

“I don’t want you mad at me, too,” he says.

Moment broken.

Mad at you? What?
In the last few moments, my head’s been swimming with all these tangled-up emotions, dealing with all these wants and needs and the powers of attraction from Dr. Bradley Stephenson’s Hallmark lessons that I’ve been trying to undo like a Gordian knot.
What? You don’t want me to be mad? At you?

“Why don’t you take your chances?” I ask. His breathing is as erratic as mine is. I gaze at him and then step back, glimpsing the edges of panic and terror in his eyes. “Oh that’s right. You love someone else. You just told her that. And, you’re going to call her.”

Moment smashed, unsurvivable, and irretrievably broken, but good, now.

Jake looks astonished at what I’ve just said and the quick-tempered fury with which I’ve said it. Who says Kimberley Powers is the only brave one around here to tell it like it is? I’ve made an incredible comeback at lightning speed.

“It’s not like that,” he says.

The defensiveness in his voice infuriates me further. “Oh really? Because it certainly sounds like it. I love you, Savannah. I’ll call,” I say in my best imitation of a southern drawl. I’ve made a fantastic recovery from the edge of this almost passionate encounter and I’m not stoned or drunk, just running on constant idle with Dr. Stevenson’s magic pills. Jake leans against the wall catching his breath and won’t look at me, while I attempt to laugh just as Kimberley would.

“Come on. Let’s go see what’s going on downstairs because
I know
neither Kimberley nor Stephanie can cook.” He follows behind me at a slower pace.

“So who did all the cooking when you lived in Tribeca?”

I turn back, surprised and left to wonder how he knew the three of us used to live there.

“I did.”

≈ ≈

A few hours later, we’ve eaten and watched enough football to satisfy the most avid fan among us, which seems to be a tie between Jake and me. “When did you get so interested in football?” Jake asks.

He’s been trying to make amends for the hallway incident for the past two hours with this solicitous we’re-just-fast-friends schtick for our little crowd. But guess what? I’m still irritated with him, even though nothing really happened between us; it could have. We were both right there. And, now I’m burdened with even more guilt as if I didn’t have enough of it already.

“Julia dated the captain of the football team at UCLA,” Kimberley says airily with a wave of her hand.

Drinking wine has made her careless about our unwritten rule: we don’t talk about Bobby, or now, Evan. My waspish look in her general direction clearly communicates she’s crossed the line. We don’t talk about Bobby. It’s a double-down secret.
She knows this
.

Stephanie steps in. “Kimmy. Double down.”

“Why? Why do we never get to talk about the past, Julia? Why do we keep all these secrets for you?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask.

“Why don’t we ever get to talk about Bobby? And, now Evan? You’re not the only one who lost them. Maybe, we all need to talk this through.”

“Make an appointment with Dr. Bradley Stevenson. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you out, Kimmy. You’ve got his card. Why don’t you call him?”

The three men exchange these puzzled looks, while I make a point of leaving to go check on Reid because you can’t trust baby monitors anymore than you can trust people. So, it seems.

≈ ≈

Earlier, Kimberley made a big production about exchanging more gifts, so I steal away in this latest awkward moment and grab a gift I’d wrapped weeks before for Evan, deciding to give it to Jake. There’s no logical explanation for me doing this, except to admit I have no right to be mad at him. As a simple gesture of kindness, I give him Evan’s gift because there’s no longer any point in keeping something for the sailboat he shared with Jake.

I can’t find a point about anything right now. The melancholy settles in all around me. I just want to go to bed and stay there forever.

“What is this?” Jake tears off the red foil paper, unlatches the Mahogany box, folds back the blue velvet cover, and holds up the sextant. I avoid his direct gaze. “Wow.”

Christian takes it from him “Nice piece. It’s an extraordinary find.”

Jake gives me a surreptitious look as Christian hands the sextant back to him. “Are you
sure
, Julia?”

“He would have wanted you to have it.”

“It’s an amazing gift. I’ve always wanted one of these.”

“Well, it’s yours then. He loved that sailboat, loved sailing with you. He’d want you to have it.”

“We’re still partner in the sailboat if you want to keep it.”

“We can keep it. I don’t know how to sail, though.”

“I could teach you.” We’re looking at each other in this weird way; our gazes spellbound by the inexplicable connection neither one of us understands; while everyone else in the room is just watching the two of us interact.

“Anyway, Merry Christmas.” My kind words have reached their limit. I take a breath and manage a smile.

I extend my hand, he takes it, and then pulls me in for a hug. Our scents—his cologne and my perfume—comingle. For a few seconds, we both seem to succumb to the same heady sensation that almost led to trouble upstairs, a few hours before. Then, I’m saved by the onrush of guilt and grief, one on either side, pulling me away from him.
Thank God for these rescuers tonight.

Jake hands me a gift wrapped in silvery paper. He gets this hopeful look. It’s heavy.
A book.
I tear at the paper, guessing right, and breathe a sigh of relief it’s not something more personal, like my favorite perfume. Then, I see the title:
Complete Works of Shakespeare.
Bobby gave me an edition, years ago. I swallow hard and struggle to meet his gaze.
“How did … you know I love Shakespeare?”

“Surely someone named Julia has played Juliet.”

I played
Juliet
in the school play when I was sixteen. It was the last performance my parents ever saw me in, the last performance I ever performed. It was just before we left for Greece and Jake’s looking at me as if he knows this.

“Julia, are you all right?” Kimberley comes up and puts her arm around me.

“I’m fine. It’s an amazing gift.” I give Kimberley a beseeching look.

“Oh,” she says taking the book from my trembling hands, recognizing it at once. “It’s lovely, Jake. You okay?” She whispers to me. I nod and slip away from her.

“Thank you, Jake. It’s very thoughtful of you.” I try to smile, to find some sort of balance again, but I sound hollow and faraway. For a moment, I’m even tempted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, and be rescued by the sensational connection that just touching him brings, but grief carries me away. The painful loss of all my loved ones resurfaces, surrounding me now, pulling me under. I’m already at the doorway.

“I’m going to check on Reid,” I say, invoking my mantra for this day.

“Julia, are you sure you’re all right?” Jake asks.

Heartbreak takes over. I’ve lost everyone I ever loved. I’m in the after again. This day just needs to end.

“Absolutely,” I say. Both Kimberley and Steph look over at me at this declaration at the same time and channel an are-you-really-okay? look in my direction. “I’m absolutely fine.”

≈*≈*

≈ ≈

“You’re a long way from home,” drawls a too-familiar voice.

I stir awake, look up into the bright sunlight overhead, and discover Jake Winston.
Jake. The runner. We meet again
. He settles in beside me, breathing heavy from his own run, while the confusing memories of last night come rushing back to me, tinged with profound sadness.

“Uh-huh. Just had to get out of the house.”

“The day after Christmas is always hard. I thought I could outrun it, too.” He points towards the north shoreline.

“Uh-huh. Kimmy went back to the city with Gregoire. It got awfully quiet. I thought I wanted that, but then … running helps.”
Why am I explaining this to him?

Jake looks over at me. “I was going to call you. There are some things we should talk about. As the executor of Evan’s estate, we should talk. I’ve got the paperwork at my house.”

“We should do that sooner rather than later. I’m leaving for Paris at the end of the week.”

“
Paris
? Why? I thought you were staying here.” He sweeps his arm in the general direction of my beach house further down the southern shore.

“Kimberley needs to return to Paris. She’s invited me to come with her. Christian and Stephanie left this morning to be with his family in Nice, and then they’ll be at their chateau for a month or so. . .” I stop talking because he looks so disenchanted. And, I’m wondering why I feel the need to explain this to him at all. “Can’t we talk about this later?”

I push off with my elbows and come to a stand and start stretching out my legs. My body is already protesting the upcoming run. Jake stands up, too, towering over me.

“I’m leaving for London tomorrow. There are a few things we should go over if you have the time.” The tone of his voice indicates this is a non-negotiable invitation.