I love you more than you know.
I breathed in deep.
Okay, Sara. I reminded myself it wasn’t a big deal – that all adults had dating histories. It was just part of life. But then I remembered what Julian had said to me barely eight hours ago, before I allowed myself to tell him everything.
“I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about another woman.”
I couldn’t help but doubt that with these bookmarks sitting in my lap. I couldn’t even deny they were his. He had notes scrawled around in that perfect handwriting I’d come to memorize in my time at his office. And if that weren’t proof enough, a loose piece of pressed flower stationery fell out from the next page.
It was a letter written in neat but swirling cursive, and it was entirely in French.
The only word I recognized was Biarritz.
“Morning.”
Julian’s voice prompted my sharp gasp. Clasping my heart, I looked up to find him standing on the porch in front of me, the sun beating down on his wide, muscled shoulders, and his glimmering blue eyes staring down at me.
“Morning,” I returned, a tinge of guilt in my voice. I glanced down at the French book. “I thought it was for work purposes,” I explained, my voice tight. “I didn’t realize it was…”
“What?” Julian challenged lightly. “What is it that you think you’re looking at right now?” he asked. I swallowed.
“Remnants of a very passionate affair.”
“No.” He gave a short laugh. “For the most part, you’re wrong.”
“For the most part?” My brow twitched. The porch swing swayed lightly with the faintest squeaking as I sat there cross-legged, gazing curiously up at Julian’s unreadable expression. “Will you tell me the story behind it?” I finally asked.
The only giveaway of the deep breath he took was the heavy rise and fall of his sculpted chest.
“Yes,” he answered. “But we’re going to need to get breakfast first.”
25
SARA
I wondered if Julian’s story was something horrific, and the stunning Riva yacht he had me boarding was for the sole purpose of softening the blow.
After grabbing breakfast to go at a charming little pastry shop, we took Emmett’s truck to a glittering white marina, where I found myself standing before a gleaming, forty-foot black and mahogany speedboat I could’ve sworn I’d also seen in my dreams before.
“If this is your way of keeping me distracted while you confess your secrets, I don’t appreciate it, because it’s kind of working,” I said, hardly able to help a smile as I gazed at Julian. He had his Persols pushed up, giving me a clear view of those eyes looking bluer than ever. I wasn’t sure if they were reflecting the water or his light blue button down, but they were striking enough that I almost tripped while getting onto the boat.
Without flinching, Julian caught me.
“Actually.” He squeezed my hand tight till I was solidly on my feet. “The boat is for the purpose of distracting me.”
“Oh.”
Oops.
I didn’t consider till now that it might actually be hard for Julian to talk about himself or his past. It wasn’t my instinct to imagine that anything was hard for him. That was why the bookmarked French book was so charming and curious to me.
At least it was until I saw the love letters – or whatever they were.
“How’d you learn to drive a boat?” I asked, in the seat next to Julian’s as he navigated out of the dock.
“My grandfather taught me.” He looked like some classic Hollywood movie star with his hair lightly slicked back, his sleeves pushed up and his Persols back on. I decided on a cross between young Clint Eastwood and prime James Dean.
“Your mother’s father?” I asked.