Page 13 of Unconditionally With Me
“I know I haven’t been stellar boyfriend material, Elle. I’ve put my career ahead of us too many times to name, but that’s about to change,” he informs me bluntly.
“Excuse me,” I breathe.
“I told Karlson today I wasn’t going to write the column anymore,” he announces proudly.
While I process what he says, Julian reaches for my hand. “There were too many nights when we should have been together, but…”
“But that’s only part of it,” I realize slowly. And it suddenly strikes me why I was never bothered until Rachel’s death about my relationship with Julian. On some level, I kept it as superficial as the one I had with Erik. Julian is just a nicer guy who deserves better than someone like me. He deserves someone who is able to give him every piece of her right from the get-go.
“Julian, I’m happy for you if that’s what you want,” I begin.
“It’s what I want because there are too many nights when I want to be with you and I can’t.” His voice is firm, resolute.
The complete opposite of my current emotions.
“But you enjoyed what you did.” I tread carefully.
“And I’ll still be doing it.”
“I don’t understand.”
He laughs, and the sound lances my soul. “Neither do I yet. Karlson and I still have to work that out. But I’ll still be writing, just not the ‘Gossip Guy.’” He moves closer and plucks the wine from my hands before wrapping me up in his arms. “Just think, Elle. We can be together. There will be no rushing off to random clubs or hot spots. You and I can…”
Now that he’s speaking the words I’ve been longing for, something inside me panics. These are the same dreams I thought I once wanted and failed so spectacularly at before my ex left me feeling I had a goddamned knife stuck in my heart for years. “No. No, I can’t do that again. Maybe you can tell Karlson you made a mistake.” I wrench myself from his arms and leap from the sofa.
He flops over onto his side, his face a mask of confusion. “Elle? What’s wrong? I did this for us.”
“I really wish you had talked with me first.” My breath is so shallow, I’m afraid I might pass out.
“I don’t understand.” Julian surges to his feet and begins to pace.
I bite my lip as he runs his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. That’s when it happens. The box tumbles from his pocket while his legs swoosh back and forth. He stoops down to pick it up, his eyes never leaving my face. And my heart breaks because I know I can’t say yes. Not until I know for sure this is where I’m supposed to be.
And the words tumble out of my mouth.
“Jules, I was left a piece of real estate in Seattle. I took a few weeks off to go see it.”
The heartache is trapped in the air between us with nowhere to escape. “How long are you going for?” he finally manages.
“Two weeks.” Or possibly the rest of my life. I don’t say the words, but something in my expression must give me away.
“So, I have two weeks to make up for the mistakes of three years?” His voice is guttural.
“Julian, no. You didn’t make any mistakes,” I protest.
He picks up the wine bottle and takes a glug. “I must have. I sure as hell must have, Elle, if you’ve been debating picking an inanimate building over the love I have for you.”
“That’s not what the problem is.”
“Then tell me!” He drops the bottle before his hands grab my arms so hard, I know it’s going to leave a bruise. But I welcome the pain over the feeling of nothing I’ve had crawling insidiously inside of me.
“It’s the fact I can’t love you the way you should be.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s not!” I break the hold he has on me easily before I shout, “I’m so terrified to love, it was easy to let you do whatever the hell you did. What kind of woman does that make me?”
“Trustworthy, not terrified,” he counters smoothly.
