It’s nothing.
It has to be.
Just a coincidence.
And yet, my hands don’t quite stop shaking as I turn back toward the stove.
Behind me, the kitchen feels too quiet. The air thick. Like someone’s watching.
I turn again, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest.
Julian stands just inside the doorway, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders tense. His gaze flicks between me and the phone on the counter. I can see the wheels turning in his head, piecing things together.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound normal.
“Long enough.”
I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “Julian.”
Crossing his arms. “How bad is it?”
“It’s—” I start, but he’s already raising an eyebrow like heknowsI’m about to lie. I close my mouth. Open it again. “It’s under control.”
“Right.” He leans against the counter, eyes still on me. “You just yelled at your lawyer like she personally stole your kidneys. That seemstotallyunder control.”
I roll my eyes and set my wooden spoon down a little too hard on the counter. “She’san assistant, Julian. There’s a difference.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
I turn back to the stove, pick up the spoon again, and swirl the pasta sauce as I reach for the spaghetti. “Look, I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Julian steps closer, his voice quieter now. “But I do.”
I grip the wooden spoon tighter.No.I am not doing this. Not letting him carry the weight of things heshouldn’thave to.
“I just need my commission check, that’s all,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone that I don’t feel. I grab the tongs and toss the pasta into the sauce. “They’re just… late. Again.”
Julian’s gaze sharpens. “How late?”
I hesitate. Then I stir the sauce a little too aggressively instead of answering.
“Here. Taste this,” I say, shoving a spoon toward him.
He doesn’t take it. “How late, Bella?”
I sigh, bracing my hands against the edge of the counter. “Two months.”
Julian lets out a low breath, running a hand through his hair. “And you’re still working there?”
“What choice do I have?” I lift my chin, meeting his stare head-on. “I have a house to fight for. Living expenses.You and Lila.I can’t exactly walk out.”
Julian’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he picks up a piece of Parmesan from the counter and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
I pick up the wooden spoon yet again, gripping it just todo something. Just to keep my hands from shaking.
“Go set the table,” I tell him. “Lunch is almost done.”
Julian doesn’t move. Just watches me for a second longer, then mutters, “Yeah. That’s what you always say.”
