“Do what?” I had no idea what she was even talking about.
“You know what!”
“No, Izzy, I really don’t. Let’s just talk. What are you so upset about and how can I fix it?”
“You can’t just fix everything, Julian!”
“I know that!” I roared. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m trying, I’m fucking trying, Izzy! Do you think I enjoy this? My only goal right now is to keep you safe, and I’m even failing at that because I’m a selfish prick just like my—” I cut myself off and shook my head. “My father.”
“You’re not him.”
“I’m not him, but I am a Tennyson, and apparently we don’t know how to think about others first, because when I walked into this room all I wanted to do was fuck you against the table and ask questions later. How’s that for selfishness? When I know you’re clearly upset with me, that’s what I’m thinking about.”
Her jaw dropped and then she narrowed her eyes. “It’s the dress.”
“It’s not the dress, Izzy, it’s you.”
“Your computer screen, it was frozen.” The words tumbled out one after another. “Who the hell is Bridge Anderson Tennyson, and why do you have a private trust set up for him for over two million dollars?” She leveled me with a glare. “Furthermore, why is he currently in the hospital in a wing nobody’s allowed to go into but you?”
“That was . . .” I took the whiskey from her hands. “A shit ton of questions.”
“Well?” I hated the look of mistrust in her eyes, almost as much as I hated the fact that if I told her the truth I would never get to touch her, she’d be dead to me, just like she was to Julian at the moment.
I didn’t want to lie.
I wanted the lies to stop.
I handed back her glass and whispered, “My brother, my brother is in the ICU.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “I figured he was family, since he currently owns one-third share of the company you’re now CEO of. What I want to know is why you keep hiding things from me. You never told me about a brother, you never told me about your mom still living. In fact, the more I think about it, the only off-limit topic was your family, and now I’m finding out two of them are still living. This is a huge deal!”
“Both are still living,” I corrected with a rasp in my voice. “But both are fighting for their lives.”
Her face fell. “Julian—”
“Don’t fucking call me that.” It felt like a shout even when it was a whisper. I stood up on wooden legs and made my way into the kitchen, blindly reaching for alcohol, fully aware of what was coming down the pipeline.
I would tell her.
Because not telling her was killing me inside.
“Wait!” She chased after me and nearly collided with my body when I was standing stock-still in the kitchen. She moved her hands around my back to my stomach and held me, kissing the back of my suit. “Is this conversation the one we need to have? Is it going to change things?”
“Irrevocably,” I whispered.
“Will you still be the same person?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
“It’s really not.”
“Shit, you have no idea, Izzy.”
She sighed and released me while I paced in front of her then finally met her gaze. “Get comfortable, it’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
ISOBEL
If he wasn’t acting like himself right after the accident, then he really wasn’t acting like himself now.
Julian enjoyed whiskey; he sipped it slowly and didn’t approve of people taking shot after shot of something so expensive.
Meanwhile, this version of him was pouring half the bottle into a juice glass.
“Julian?”
“Like I said, don’t call me that, not now,” he muttered. “I just—I need some time, Izzy. To process, to . . .” He cursed again. “To try to explain.” And then he burst out laughing. “Yeah, this isn’t going to go well, is it?”
Was he talking to himself?
“Go change, Izzy, I’m gonna tell you again, you’ll want to be comfortable,” he barked in a tone I hadn’t heard him use before. It wasn’t mean or even threatening. No, it was filled with disappointment.
He took another swig directly from the bottle, abandoning the glass, while I wondered if I should call his mom.
This wasn’t him.
Not at all.
Had I ever known him?
I walked back into the master bathroom and started changing out of my dress.
Ugh, what was wrong with me? He was acting crazy, there was money in a trust fund for a brother I knew nothing about, and now he was asking me not to call him by name?
I jerked my bra off, causing a flicker of paper to fall from it. I snatched it up. It was Bridge’s phone number, I never meant to use it, just to wave it in front of his face and demand he tell me what he’d been hiding.