Page 82 of Alive At Night

We parted ways with Nessa and Grayson so they could grab drinks—nonalcoholic, it would seem—and walked to our assigned seats before I finally broke my silence.

“Why the hell didn’t youtellme?”

Julian didn’t reply, guiding me by the hand toward our table in the ballroom attached to the atrium. I wondered if I should tell him that he could probably cool it a bit with the dating act, but at the same time, I didn’thateit. His touch was…distractingly nice.

“Julian,” I persisted.

He heard me. And he couldn’t pretend like he didn’t know what I was talking about.

Once we were both seated, he exhaled dramatically. “I was respecting Grayson’s privacy. He asked me to keep it under wraps since they haven’t announced Nessa’s pregnancy.”

I brushed that excuse aside. “He just brought it up in front of me. Clearly, he isn’t all that concerned.”

“He also thinks we’re dating,” Julian pointed out. “So now you’re part of the inner circle. If you’re important to me, you’re important to him. It’s how it works with us.”

“I noticed you didn’t correct him, though.”

Julian cleared his throat and sipped his drink before responding. “The conversation got away from me.”

There was a lull while people milled around us. The wedding tables were decorated extravagantly with piles of lavender and baby’s breath and perfectly matching linens. Across the ballroom, Nessa and Grayson were stopped by fawning fans. Not for the first time tonight, Grayson slid his hand protectively over his wife’s stomach. Watching it made something in me swell and then sink.

“If I’d known…” I began before cutting off and shaking my head, turning back to Julian. “If I’d known that this case was about your friend’s son, I would have helped you—”

“Gabriel’s actually my godson.”

I had to look away again because something was very wrong with that annoying thing inside my chest. It was aching. Hurting. And my eyes, something was wrong with them, too. They were leaking.

“Juniper.”

Julian’s voice was soft. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze again. Goddamnit. Maybe if Nice Julian disappeared, I’d be able to get a hold of myself. But this was almost too much.

“Why?” His brows furrowed as he flicked a tiny tear off my cheek. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“Because I feel like such a bitch,” I admitted, trying to blink the tears away. “I made you take me to that game, made you set me up with Noah, made you drive all the way to New York, and you were just trying to support your best friend. He’s probably not even an official client, is he?”

“No, he’s not. But Jun—”

“God.” I dropped my head into my hands.

Julian leaned in. I could feel it from how his breath grazed my cheek.

“You didn’t make me do anything, Daisy. You didn’t ask me to drive all the way to New York. I offered, didn’t I?”

“Because you felt obligated,” I muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Because I knew it meant a lot to you,” he said like it was a correction. Like it was the truth.

But I knew better than that.

“You can drop the nice act, Julian.”

I appreciated that he was trying. The effort he’d put into respecting my requests for the weekend was more than appreciated. But I needed the real Julian to help set the record straight because I didn’t know what was up or down, what was real or pretend.

He wasn’t here for me. That couldn’t be the truth.

“Stop hiding for a second, Rosie.”

The tenderness in Julian’s voice convinced me to drop my hands and lift my head. I hated that I fell for something so obviously not real, but I couldn’t help but listen to him when he talked to me like that.

---