It was a mistake to let him in, but I don’t feel guilty for what we shared. I enjoyed our time together, but it’s clear that our relationship should be platonic. And that’s what I’m going to tell him. I think this the moment I step up onto the porch and find him sitting on the bench, nursing a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid.
He looks like he hasn’t slept. And he also smells like he hasn’t showered in days. Even though I saw him last night. He doesn’t look up when I walk up to him. I know he can feel and hear me, and I know he can see my black Doc Martens that adorn my feet.
Slowly, Julian lifts his head, his gaze locking on me. The pain in his expression almost makes me cave in and drop to my knees to hold him, but I hold my spine straight.
“Good morning,” I say, but it’s stilted, pained.
“The emails I need done are on the desk,” he tells me, his voice only slightly slurred. He takes a long swallow of the strong alcohol, winces, then lifts his gaze to mine once more. “There are also caterers that need confirming, and I’d like you to get the gallery ready. I have someone coming in later to help set up the artwork.” His voice seems far away. He doesn’t ask me how I am, or even what I’m feeling. So, I don’t offer up anything more.
I nod and turn to make my way into the house. Even though I was prepared to tell him we should be professional from here on out, the way he’s dismissed me hurts. I blink back the tears as I grab a coffee before heading into the office.
I should’ve known that an asshole never changes. Frustration burns through me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m affected by his actions. I’m stronger than that. Settling behind the desk, I open my laptop and start working. Everything he told me needed doing has been printed out and left with notes.
I don’t know when he did these, but I have a feeling he hasn’t slept at all. Sighing, I sip my coffee before I get started on the emails. Once the caterer is confirmed, I open a job listing website to start looking for something else.
If this is how it’s going to be, I can’t work here. Suddenly, a glass shattering bounces off the walls, and I jump at the sound, but I don’t go to him. I have to force myself to sit on the chair and not race to see if he’s okay. I feel torn between admitting that I’ve fallen for him or just waiting until he’s going to confess what he’s feeling.
The door of the studio slams loudly against the jamb, and I know he’s finally hidden himself away. My chest aches, the tears burning my eyes threaten to spill, and I sit back, breathing deeply as I consider what to do. Going to him might only anger him more, so I wait in the office, not working, just trying to come up with a plan. I need to figure out how to get through to him.I glance at the time and find it’s almost two in the afternoon. I’ve worked past lunch, applying for a couple of jobs. But what captured my attention was the email I received from Julian’s contact. He sent it to me directly, but I am sure he must’ve blind copied Julian. It’s my mother’s childhood home address.
I spent an hour looking at the Google map, staring at the house on the street view option. Even though I can’t see inside, I can only imagine my mother playing in the garden as a child. The house is gorgeous. It’s clearly been refurbished over the years because I notice the railings have been painted, and the outer wall looks slightly different from the photo I had from my mother’s memory box.
She always kept a shoebox with photos and trinkets from her younger years. And the only thing that really meant anything was the photo of her as a twelve-year-old standing at the wall, smiling into the camera.
I know I need to go there, to see her home, and I’d love to go there this weekend. Perhaps even see if the family living there would let me inside so I can just see what it looks like.
Pushing off the chair, I head outside, needing some fresh air. Everything that’s happened in the past few days has still got me wound up. I don’t know what to expect when Julian’s wife gets here, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find another job in the city, but I know I have to get away from him.
I knew allowing myself to feel something for him was a mistake. The sun is bright today, beating down on me as I step off the porch and onto the grass. It’s soft underfoot, and I walk toward the center of the expansive garden. There are flowers that line the property. The colors are exquisite, drawing my attention to them immediately.