“Of course,” Russell says, righting Gus and taking a step toward the car, hand reaching for the door. The sun glints off his salt-and-pepper hair, his dimples popping, steely eyes shining when they meet mine. “If your mom is okay with it.”
As I climb into the Mercedes, and when Russell sits next to me, his thigh pressing against mine, I tell myself that I just can’t say no to Gus.
And there’s absolutely no other reason for why I gave in so easily.
Chapter 21
Russell
After a romp through Shed Aquarium, we go to the dinosaur restaurant. Gus bursts with energy and joy at the decorations, pointing to each and rattling off their names. Jules laughs, face reddening with pleasure when a waiter comments on how smart Gus is. I agree with him, and make sure his tip reflects that.
After, we go to a massive, multi-story toy store and I let Gus pick something out. Then, with a raptor under his arm, he gets to select a pile of books from the bookstore next door.
“Really, Russell,” Jules whispers feverishly as Gus pulls the books from the shelf,oohing andahhing at the covers. “It’s too much.”
I could tell her that I have nothing else to use the money on—not really. Once I get my inheritance, the clinic will be covered, and I’ll be back to floating on my investments.
Or I could tell her that Ilikebuying Gus things. That he deserves them.
Instead, I just say, “Don’t worry. I’ll send you the bill,” with a cheeky look so she knows I’m joking.
Then, when we get to the clothing store, I insist on buying her a new coat, and Gus helps me cheer her on when she finds the perfect knee-length puffer with a fur-lined hood.
“If you get frostbite,” I argue, taking the coat and walking it to the check-out, “you can’t come with me to the ball. And Mr. Grande might think I’m not fit to be your husband.”
I turn away while I pay for the coat, that word—husband—weighing down the air between us. It’s thick, heady, like a promise I know I can’t keep. Jules accepts the coat, along with the cashmere hat and gloves I caught her admiring.
We go from store to store, and I feel lighter with each purchase, watching Gus glow with joy, and Jules relax into her new coat, which fits her like a glove and clearly keeps her warmer than the other one.
As the sun falls lower in the sky and Jules starts to check her watch frequently, what I want is to tell her to skip the market altogether. That I could pay her for her shift and keep her and Gus here with me. The three of us could go back to my place, I could cook us dinner, and we could all sit on the couch together, watching another animated movie.
But I don’t say any of that, because I know she’ll turn it down.
First, because she’s too reliable for that, and I’m sure her friend—Sienna—won’t be able to find someone else on short notice like this. And also, because she’s so resistant to me buying heranything, let alone actually paying for her time.
So, even though I don’t want to, I tell the driver to take us to the Christmas Market.
“He takes his pills with dinner, then bed by seven. I usually read him a story, but you don’t have to,” Jules says from her place next to me in the back of the car, working her apartment key off the ring.
When she deposits it in my hand, I ignore the obvious symbolism.
“Luckily for me,” I say, swallowing through the perceived enormity of the moment, “I still remember how to read.”
We all clamber out of the car together, and Jules hugs and kisses Gus hard on the top of his head, rocking him side to side before letting him go. It reminds me of that first day in the hospital, when she’d held him like she might never let him go.
“Begood,” she says, and Gus mumbles something into her coat that I don’t catch but makes her laugh.
“Yes, you are,” she says, shaking her head and holding him at arms-length for a moment before stepping back, her eyes swinging to mine.
“Gus and I are going to do a lap around the market,” I say, jerking my head at the car. “After we go back to your place, the driver is coming back to get you after your shift.”
“Oh, that’s not—” she starts, waving her hand at me, but I cut her off.
“Jules. You’re not walking home after the market anymore.”
It’s a command, and I watch the way it makes her eyes darken. I like that look on her face, the one where she finally gives into what I want.
I can’t believe she’s been walking home at night, even along the more populated streets. A sense of protectiveness and possessiveness courses through me, and I don’t even try to deny them.
