Julian is watching me with exasperation and so many emotions playing across his face. I almost want to laugh because this is definitely the most expressive, I have ever seen him, the most emotional.
Graham steps up beside me, his eyes scanning my face. I don't know what he sees. I barely know how I feel. "If you'd like, Lucy, I can take the Dr. to his hotel room."
“No,” Julian cuts in sharply.
Another car pulls up, and Rowan steps out.
Julian gestures without looking away from me. “Rowan will take you to our hotel, so you can rest. We’ll coordinate when you’re ready.”
Köhler looks to me for confirmation.
I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of exhaustion. “Rowan will take care of you. I’ll be in touch later today.”
He nods and leaves without ceremony.
And then it's the three of us. I can feel their eyes on me, and I just want to go home to bed.
Julian turns to Graham. “You can go now, Whitaker.”
Graham smiles faintly, but it's more predatory than kind. “I’m not leaving Lucy with you, unless that’s what she wants.”
“She’s my wife,” Julian snaps. “And I need to talk to her. I haven’t seen her in a month.”
Graham laughs as I turn on Julian, exhaustion burning into anger.
“And whose fault is that?” I demand. “Because it isn’t Graham’s. He was there when you weren’t. Stop being rude to the only person who actually showed up.”
Julian looks like he is about to explode, but he just nods.
We stand in a tense silence, and my eyes drop to my feet, then Julian is right in front of me, invading my personal space. Overwhelming my senses with him.
His hand reaches for my chin, gently tilting my face to look at him. "I know everything is my fault, but we need to talk, Lucy. I have so much to explain, and so many lies Richard said that need clearing up." He says softly.
I want to say no.
I want to tell him to go to hell and speak to my lawyer.
But the look on his face stops me. Stripped bare. Unarmored.
I sigh and turn to Graham, hugging him, ignoring the low growl behind me.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he murmurs.
I step back. “Julian will take me home. We’ll talk soon.”
Graham studies my face. “You sure?”
I nod, and Graham walks to his car.
Julian grabs my bag and opens the car door. Once we’re inside and moving, he starts talking, apologizing, unravelling, words spilling over each other.
“Julian,” I interrupt. “Stop.”
He does.
“I’m exhausted,” I say. “I want to go home, shower, sleep for a few hours, and then take Dr. Köhler to see my mom. I don’t have the capacity to deal with you on top of everything else.”
