Page 50 of Julia.

Sebastian wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, side to side, his body warm but his stance stiff and unyielding. I have no idea what to do for a photo at a funeral of all places, so after sneaking a look at Sebastian’s face, I allow a small smile to form on my lips until the camera flashes and I can let it fall away once more.

Once the picture is taken, Sebastian grabs my hand before I can continue my argument, weaving our fingers together and leading me back to where all the cars are parked, waiting. He opens the door to an empty one, motioning for me to get inside. I bite my lip, trying to keep my complaints inside, before giving in and bending down to get into the back seat. His eyes flash as he looks inside the car at me, and I’m sure that he’s about to kiss me goodbye at least, but then his gaze hardens and he pulls back, shutting the door on me before walking to the driver’s window and telling him where to take me. The entire thing only took about two minutes, but Sebastian managed to get rid of me before I was even close to being finished talking to him. Defeated, I slump down in the leather car seat as the driver pulls out onto the main road, and cradle my head in my hands.

* * *

My family home is usually a welcome sight after tough days, but not so much now. I walk through the door, and my heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. I can barely keep my composure as I try to put on a brave face for my mother and fend off the bone-deep exhaustion that I’m suffering from.

It’s not that I think Mom will be upset if she can tell how awful I’m feeling, but more so that I’m afraid she will sense how vulnerable I am and pick me apart for information, or to try and get me to agree with her about giving up on dating Sebastian once and for all. She was sweet to me on the phone earlier, sure, but my mother has a very limited well for empathy.

Stuart, our butler, lets me know that she’s already in the dining room and that dinner is ready and waiting for me. For some odd reason, we’re having dinner in the formal dining room instead of the breakfast nook or in one of our private suites, so the room looks startlingly empty when I open the door and join her. The scent of the food is suffocating, as if it’s mocking me for not being able to enjoy it.

Mom rises out of her chair and comes to hug me immediately, smoothing my hair down and holding me for a moment longer than usual. I hug her back, closing my eyes and accepting the comfort that she’s offering.

“My poor girl,” Mom murmurs, pinning a soft kiss on top of my head. “What a hard day for you.”

I sit down at the table, in the seat right next to my mom, and begin picking at my food. I’m barely touching it, my mind elsewhere, lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions. Mom starts talking about the funeral and asking how sad Sebastian seemed to be, but I keep my answers short and succinct, which seems to annoy her. Sebastian’s tragedy isn’t an appropriate dinner conversation, anyway, and I wish we could talk about anything else.

Still, though, I do feel rejected by him. I know he is hurting, but I can't help but feel like he’s pushing me away, even when I came simply to support him if he needed it.

She continues to try and ask questions about the funeral, but I'm lost in thought, trying to process everything that has happened. The family estate, this dinner, Sebastian’s coldness –it all feels like a distant dream. I can feel the weight of her words, and how her tone gets more insistent, but they don't seem to penetrate my heart. It’s as if I’m numb to everything around me.

The only thing that brings me back to reality is when my mother’s voice changes from frustrated to genuine worry. “Julia, please eat something, dear,” she says, her voice laced with concern. But I can’t bring myself to take a bite.

I give up the charade, and let the fork fall to the plate with a clang. “I just can’t. I feel sick about all this.”

Mom carefully sits her silverware down and folds her hands on the table, regarding me. “I understand that this is an awful thing, Julia, but you seem more traumatized by it than I anticipated. Why?”

I sigh deeply, still pondering whether to tell her the truth or not. “Sebastian is understandably depressed, but at the funeral, he barely acknowledged me. When he did, he was distant…”

“He might need time,” my mother reasons, before giving another sip of her wine. “And his dad will definitely need him more now that the rest of his family is gone. It’s much too early to expect him to act like his normal self.”

I nod silently, not wanting to engage in conversation. I feel like I’m losing everything. My family, my relationship, my sense of security.

“Maybe this is a sign you shouldn’t be around that family,” she ventures when I don’t say anything. The effect on me is instantaneous, though, and I can feel my blood boil. How dare she suggest something like that? I know the family has its issues, and now an added layer of danger, but how is this the right time to bring this up? I glare at her but she continues, “I’m just saying…”

I can feel the anger rising inside me, but I know it’s not fair to take it out on her. “I’m gonna go upstairs and get some rest,” I say, pushing away from the table and heading for the stairs. She calls after me, at first kind, then cajoling, and finally, angry, but none of her emotions manage to move me. Not when I’m so busy drowning in my own.

As I climb the stairs, I can feel the weight of the day bearing down on me. The thought of going to bed alone, without any sort of hope or reassurance from Sebastian, is almost unbearable. But I know I have to keep going, keep pushing through the pain. If I have to pretend to be his friend to get close to him, then so be it.

I collapse onto my bed, grabbing a pillow and covering my face with it. I don't know how I’m going to get through this, but I know I have to try. It’s just so damned hard…

* * *

A few hours later, I’m still lying in my bed, a book open but unread on the blanket beside me. Now, I’m staring at the ceiling and trying to push away the thoughts that threaten to pull me down even further than I already am, when my phone rings. It’s Sebastian. A vast array of emotions hit me at once: joy, anger, annoyance, and concern. I can’t answer fast enough, hands scrambling for the device, my voice barely audible when the call connects. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies back, the sound of his voice a balm to my soul. “Eh, I’m outside. Can I come up?”

In a jump, I sit up straight on my bed, barely believing what he is saying. “What? Seb, it’s late. Is everything okay? I expected to hear from you during the day.”

I want to see him, of course, to be comforted by his presence, but I also don’t want to burden him with my pain

“I just need to talk to you. Are you available?”

The concern in his voice makes me worry even more. “What’s going on?”

Seb lets out a sigh, taking a moment before answering. “I’m, uh…I’m in front of your gates. Can you let me in?

I frown in confusion. “Like…now?” The thought of knowing he’s here, right in front of the gates makes me both thrilled and deeply anxious. Oh gosh, if Mom knows he is here, I can’t even imagine what she’d do! Things can turn ugly pretty fast with her around.

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