Julian (Beautiful Mine #1) (8 page)

EVIE

I waved to Caroline and Arthur as they followed Julian inside, but my gesture went unreturned. I shrugged it off. I had to. I needed that job. I needed them to like me. I wanted to be around Julian, and I was quite sure he needed to be around me.

I pulled into my parents’ driveway a short time later. “Home sweet home.”

“Evie, is that you?” my father called from the living room before getting up to greet me.

“Look who’s home,” my mother said in her cheeriest voice. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in months.”

“It’s been a couple weeks, I know,” I said as she wrapped her arms around me.

“You need to call your mother more,” my father suggested as his hand rested on my shoulder. “Every night she talks about you, and we wonder how you're doing, but we leave you alone because we know you’re busy working with the Garner-Willoughby boy.”

“That’s right,” my mother chimed in. “I keep wanting to call you every day to talk about how things are going, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“So, how goes it?” my father asked, stroking his thick, dark mustache.

“I love it,” I said with a smile as I thought about Julian. “He’s great. A little challenging at times, a little misunderstood, a little lonely, a little confused…”

A thousand words could describe him, and it would never fully paint a picture of Julian Garner-Willoughby.

***

The smell of cinnamon rolls wafted down the hall, waking me from my peaceful slumber Sunday morning.

“Evie,” my mom called from the kitchen. “Come eat. We’re having rolls before church. You’re going to church with us, right?”

I dragged myself out of bed. It was barely eight o’clock and my mom was as awake as ever, chatting away with anyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Where’s Alexa?” I asked as I shuffled into the kitchen.

“Oh, she has a new boyfriend,” my mom said, rolling her eyes. My parents exchanged looks as my father looked up from behind his newspaper.

“What’s that look for?” I asked them.

“Your father has strong feelings about this one, that’s all,” my mother answered, squinting at him.

“He has strong feelings about all of them,” I said, pulling a plate down from the cupboard.

“I’m going to trust he keeps these feelings to himself this time,” my mother said as she poured cinnamon icing over the steaming hot rolls.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Oh, goodness,” my mom said. “I don’t even remember this one’s name.”

“Dad, who’s the boy Alexa’s seeing?” I asked. My father couldn’t lie. It was his best strength and his worst weakness all at the same time.

“It’s Spencer’s younger brother, Slater,” he sighed unhappily as he folded the paper and put it down on the table. My father strongly disliked Spencer, which meant he automatically disliked any and all other men bearing the Goodwin name.

No wonder Alexa hadn’t told me. She knew I’d have warned her that they’re nothing but a bunch of heartbreakers.

Alexa and I were just two years apart, and we couldn’t have been more different, yet we spent our entire lives being compared to one another. I had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a healthy, average build. Alexa had ashy blonde hair, big, brown eyes, and a good four inches of height on me. Hardly an ounce of fat on her lithe frame meant she could wear a paper bag and still look like a million bucks. Dancing came naturally to her, as did making friends, dating, and being popular. Alexa relied heavily on her charm and good looks to get whatever she wanted in life, and she always did. Still, I loved her more than anything.

“This is, what, boyfriend number five since last fall?” I huffed. “But who’s counting, right?”

One jumbo, homemade cinnamon roll later and I was slipping into some church clothes, much to my dismay. My mother was so excited to have me home that I couldn’t stand to disappoint her again. I knew it mean the world to her to have me join them that morning.

As soon as we entered the musty, aging First Presbyterian church, all eyes were on me. The faces that were all so familiar to me were all looking at me like I was that new person in church, the foreign face, the guest who had to stand and introduce themselves during announcements.

“That’s what you get for never coming,” my father joked as he elbowed me in the ribs. “People are just happy you’re here. They haven’t seen much of you since you were in Sunday school.”

The organ began to play, which cued everyone to stop visiting and take their places in the pews. I snuggled in between my parents and silenced my phone. I stood up with the congregation for prayers and hymns and sang along like a good girl. It was amazing how the song lyrics came back to me as if they’d never left my memory.

Halfway through the sermon, I grew bored and my eyes began to wander around the room in search of familiar faces. I recognized a few people from school and parents of old friends, as well as a few out-of-town church boys who grew up to be sort of good-looking.

Not bad, not bad,
I thought as I scanned the room.

“Pay attention,” my mother leaned over and whispered. “I know what you’re doing.”

I tried to focus on the preacher’s words for a few more minutes, but it wasn’t long before my mind had wandered again and I lost track of his message altogether. I turned my gaze toward the opposite side of the church, and it was in that moment that I spotted Arthur and Caroline, sitting just two rows from the back. I whipped my head back around, growing infuriated, and took a deep breath to try to calm myself down.

“What’s wrong now?” my mother whispered.

“The Garner-Willoughbys are here,” I whispered back.

“Yes, they’re here every Sunday,” my mom replied.

“Julian went into the hospital a couple days ago,” I whispered. “They told me to go home for the weekend. Someone should be there with him.”

“Shh,” my mother shushed me. “We’ll talk about this after church.”

“I have to get out of here,” I said, collecting my bag and scooting out of the pew.

I walked right past Arthur and Caroline, diverting my eyes so as not to meet theirs. I ran-walked the mile back to my house, all the while having an internal conversation with Caroline about what a shitty mother she was. In my mind, I chided her for only caring about her public image and herself, and for being a worthless human being who didn’t know the definition of sacrifice.

By the time I arrived home I’d calmed down, but only slightly. I jerked open my car door and threw myself inside. I tore out of the driveway and headed downtown to the wireless store to get Julian a cell phone. I wanted him to have a direct line of contact with me at all times. As long as Caroline didn’t find out about it, she wouldn’t be able to take it away from him.

I returned home an hour later to see Alexa’s car parked out in the street.

“Alexa?” I called as I walked in the front door, kicking off my wet boots.

“Hey, stranger.” Alexa peeked out from around the corner. She walked up and placed a long, lanky arm around my shoulders, her faint, flowery perfume wrapping me up like a familiar hug.

“I heard you were with a boy this morning,” I teased, pretending I didn’t know about her and Slater Goodwin.

Alexa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatevs. We just went out for breakfast.”

We trailed down the hall toward the living room, where we both settled into our favorite spots on the family sectional.

“It’s weird not having you here,” she said, picking at her paint-chipped nails.

“Get used to it,” I said. “I love my job.”

“Isn’t that Julian kid weird, or something?” she asked. “Or is he just slow? Isn’t he, like, thirty?”

“He’s twenty-four,” I said, defending him. “And no, he’s not weird or slow, or anything. He has cystic fibrosis.”

“Oh,” Alexa said. She probably didn’t even know what that was.

“He’s actually pretty cute,” I found myself saying. “Wow, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“You totally want him,” Alexa said, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe the two of you can get married, and then when he dies, you can inherit all of his money? You’d be so loaded.”

“Who the hell thinks like that?” I scoffed at her with my best big-sister tone. “That’s so wrong, Alexa. Wow.”

“I’m kidding,” Alexa said with an eye roll. “Duh.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Spencer flashed across the screen:

SORRY 4 LAST NIGHT. WANT TO MEET UP B4 I LEAVE 2DAY?

My head told me to ignore him, but within seconds, I began typing a response. I wanted to write OF COURSE! But my inner Carys reminded me to play the game. I made him wait a few more minutes before I sent my response.

“Who just texted you?” Alexa asked in a rare moment of caring about anyone else besides herself. She must have missed me after all.

“Spencer,” I replied as I re-read his message several times. “Can you believe that? Three years of nothing, and then all of a sudden, he wants back into my life. At least, I think he does.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ran into him a few nights ago at Mulligan’s,” I said. “He asked me on a date the next night, but then he got weird. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. And now he wants me to meet him before he goes back to Nashville.”

I NEED 2 KNOW IF UR COMING.

He texted me again, growing impatient from my initial lack of a response.

WHAT TIME? I texted him back. My inner Carys was shaking her head.

NOW? he replied.

FINE, I wrote him back.

Potter Park had a serene view of the local lake where we used to go fishing and hiking and have picnics back in the day. I hadn’t visited in the three years that had passed since we’d broken up. I could never bring myself to take anyone else there. It was almost sacred, a place where time stood still and our younger selves were still frolicking around, laughing and kissing and playing as if life had never happened and we never went our separate ways.

“I’m leaving,” I announced to Alexa as I stood and stretched. My heart raced in a way that it hadn’t in a very long time and my entire body lit with electric anticipation.

“Where you headed?” she asked, feigning disinterest.

“I’m meeting Spencer,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t, but I want to hear what he has to say before he leaves. Is this a bad idea?”

“Probably,” Alexa responded, avoiding eye contact. She grabbed her phone and began typing something. “Guys suck.”

My heart ached for her, as I could only imagine the emotional roller coaster she was about to ride if she stuck with Slater Goodwin for much longer.

I hurried down the hall to freshen up, touching up my makeup and stealing a few spritzes from Alexa’s signature gardenia perfume that just so happened to be laying out on the bathroom counter. I slid on a pair of dark skinny jeans, black flats, and a creamy blouse. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was trying too hard, but I also wanted to look better than I had the night of our ill-fated pizza date.

As I drove to Potter Park, an inner dialogue began to play. I imagined Spencer telling me I should move to Nashville to be with him, or maybe he’d tell me he was moving back home to attend college nearby to be with me. Or maybe he’d suggest we keep talking to see where this was headed.

If nothing else, I just wanted him to say he made a mistake.

Within minutes I’d arrived, my heart thumping loud in my ears as I tried to play it cool. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him standing outside his Range Rover, leaning against the door with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. He was watching me. I could feel it. The second I turned his way and our eyes met, he smiled.

I popped a piece of cinnamon gum into my mouth and smoothed my dark hair down.

“Hey,” I said as I climbed out of my car and walked his way.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes locked into mine. He reached over and pulled me closer to him as a gust of cold March wind ruffled through our hair. I leaned my head on his chest and he rested his chin on top. We had always fit together so perfectly, and we still did.

The warmth of this breath on top of my head took the chill right out of the early spring air, and I couldn’t help but breathe him in. All of him. Ivory soap.  Burberry cologne. Vanilla car freshener. Clean laundry. It was a concoction that conjured up every sentimental memory of us all at the same time.

“I’ve missed this,” I sighed.

“Me too,” he said.

“Why’d it take you so long to reach out to me?” I asked. I pulled away to look at him, but didn’t let go.

“I don’t know,” he said, staring off. “Pride?”

“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” The sharp jab of the painful recollection of the day he told me it was over, that there was no future for us, came back as fresh as ever. It stung me all over again and briefly took me to that dark place, if only for a second.