Holding the dress up to her body, I spin her so she’s facing the full-length mirror propped against the far wall that’s surprisingly not obstructed with the array of trunks and boxes filling the space. The fire department would have a field day if they ever saw what a fire hazard it is.
“You’re right!” Her voice oozes excitement as she flips the switch from suspicious friend to glowing bride-to-be. “This would be great for the rehearsal dinner! Did I tell you?”
She whirls around to face me in full wedding planning mode. I widen my eyes, feigning enthusiasm.
“We’re doing it at a luau. Figured everyone’s making the trip just for us, we should make sure they all get a taste of the islands.” She leans toward me. “And there are dancing Samoans blowing fire. Maybe you can nab yourself a hot local while you’re there.” She winks, then turns back to the mirror.
“The only hot local I’m interested in is Jason Momoa, but I think he’s already spoken for.” I smile, expecting Nora to swoon with me over his tattoos, which I know she’s a complete sucker for. Instead, her body becomes taut, her breath catching as her eyes widen.
I look into the mirror, wondering what could account for her sudden change in demeanor. The instant I do, my heart drops at the reflection of Julian standing in the doorway.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Guinevere,” Julian begins in a shaky tone as I remain frozen in place, barely able to breathe. My mouth agape, a heaviness settles in my stomach. Ever since I walked away, I hoped for this moment. I didn’t think it would actually happen. Things like this only happen in fairy tales.
When Nora squeezes my arm, I snap out of my shock, floating my gaze to her. She gives me an encouraging smile, nodding. I suppose that’s the thing about best friends. I don’t have to tell them a single word. They’ll still see the truth, despite my lies. Just like I see the truth in Julian’s eyes right now…despite his lies.
Slowly, I turn around. The confident, self-assured man I spent my summer with is nowhere to be found. He looks like a different person, a shell, broken, defeated.
“You know what, Nora?” Chloe’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. “I just realized I haven’t seen any of the invitation samples you received.”
“I thought you didn’t care which one I chose. That—”
“What kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn’t give you my honest opinion on which type and style of paper will eventually end up in a landfill?”
“But I don’t have them with me. I left them at my apartment. You said you wanted one day where I didn’t mention the ‘w’ word.”
“Nora…,” Chloe says through clenched teeth, glancing between Julian and me, urging her to put two and two together.
It takes a few seconds, but realization finally washes over her. “Oh! I get it.” She winks conspiratorially. As she walks past Julian, she pauses, lifts herself onto her tiptoes, and leans toward him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He laughs slightly, then refocuses his unwavering stare on me. “I have a feeling I’ll need it to fix the mess I’ve caused.”
Chloe and Nora glance back at me, giving me an encouraging look before making their way out of the apartment, leaving me alone with Julian. Neither one of us moves for several long moments. I want to ask why he’s here, but I keep my mouth closed, simply staring at him with a blank expression. I’ve already said everything I wanted to. The ball’s in his court.
Anxious from the awkward tension, he shoves his hands into his pockets, tearing his eyes from mine as he takes in the disaster that is my room. With a furrowed brow, he walks past me and toward all the trunks. My lungs expand as I inhale the aroma that is quintessentially Julian, memories flooding back.
“What are you doing with all your things?”
He stops in front of a box labeled GARBAGE and reaches in, retrieving the familiar polka-dot two-piece. I’ve always been self-conscious about my body…until I met Julian. I’d never felt as beautiful as I did when he first saw me in that bathing suit…except it wasn’t real.
“They’re not mine,” I say dismissively. “I have no need for them, so I told Nora and Chloe to take anything they’d like before I donate what I can to a women’s shelter. I figured you’d appreciate that.”
He faces me, narrowing his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies the open Tiffany’s box and flinches. “All of it?”
“All of it.” I hold my head high, squaring my shoulders.
On a long sigh, he lowers himself onto my bed, his head hanging. I’m about to berate him for being so bold as to make himself at home when he interrupts me.
“I was in Paris this morning.” He peers up at me through his long lashes, the confidence he typically wears like a shield absent. He still looks amazing in his dark suit, and smells even more sinful, but he’s pale, dark circles under his eyes from an obvious lack of sleep.
“Did you come here to rub that in my face?” I press my lips in a tight line, my tone sharp. “If that’s the case, mission accomplished. I’ve never had the luxury. I hope you enjoyed some macarons while you were there.”
He shakes his head, briefly lowering his gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that. You see what you do to me? You make me so…flustered.”
He runs his hand through his sandy locks, tugging at them. My fingers twitch at the memory of what his hair feels like.
“I was there for work. This morning, as I went through my routine of reading the newspaper while having coffee, the TV was on as background noise, some classic movie channel. Do you know what was playing?”
I swallow hard, not saying a single word. My heart echoes in my ears as my eyes fixate on the despair and remorse hanging over him.
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” he says in a measured tone. “It was the final scene. You know the one when Paul finally calls out Holly Golightly for who she really is, for being scared of falling in love because she doesn’t want anyone to put her in a cage?”
Tears form in my eyes as I recite one of the most poignant lines from the film. “‘No matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.’”
“Exactly.” In an instant, he’s on his feet, striding the short distance toward me. When he cups my cheeks in his hands, a current runs through me, my body waking after a nearly two-week slumber.
Drawing in a deep breath, he rests his forehead on mine. “I don’t want to run into myself anymore. I am absolutely petrified of this, of you, of us. But I’m even more scared of not feeling this anymore.”
I close my eyes, allowing his words to fill me with the hope and promise I’d been yearning for since it all came crumbling down. But is it enough? Does it change anything? How do I know it’s real?
Shaking my head, I release myself from his hold. I need more than that, more than him being scared of losing me. I need…him. All the broken, damaged pieces that make up who he is.
“Thank you for finally admitting that. I can only imagine how difficult it is. But just because you’re scared of losing me isn’t enough reason for me to stay, not after…” I trail off.
“Guinevere…” He grabs my hands in his, pleading with me. “You have to believe me when I say I’m willing to try. For you. That’s all I can give you right now. Please understand.”
“I do understand.” I pull away, glancing at all the clothes he spoiled me with, all of it as artificial as he is. All glamour, no substance. “But I need more than that. Just two weeks ago, you wanted me to believe you’d never change who you are for anyone.”
“I lied.” He rubs his temples, his jaw clenching. “Okay? You know I lied, too!” He returns his impassioned gaze to mine. “You saw the truth.”