I nudge her on the shoulder. “Buying supplies for a sex club is a little different.”
“Did you know what you were doing when you started?”
I adjust in my seat. My leg is bent and resting on my knee as I bring my coffee cup to my lips. “Not a thing.”
Something about this makes her smile. “So how did you do it?”
“When my dad and Matis passed the club down to us, it was already running. Plus Jack was already working there, and he was much smarter than me. I never did bring much to the table.”
Her head tilts toward me.
“I let my partner take the lead on a lot of things. I never wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I never had the drive you have. I envy you. I have this crippling fear of failure, like no matter what I do, something stops me before I even try.”
Freya’s brows wrinkle as she sets her coffee cup down and turns to face me more.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Bracing myself for what I know is coming, I inhale deeply and look into her eyes.
“Julian, have you ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder?”
Suddenly, it feels as if I’m stripped naked, standing bare and vulnerable in the middle of the room, waiting for her to scrutinize me. Or hurt me. Or laugh at me. Or scare me back into the shell I’ve lived in for so long.
Then I gaze deeper into her warm, honest brown eyes, and I know she would never do any of those things. I am safe with her. As if I could bury myself inside her mind and feel just as at home there as in my own.
Swallowing my discomfort, I nod.
“I was seventeen. The year I finished school. I knew for a while before that that things weren’t quite right, but I always thought I was just paranoid or intense. Then Jack St. Claire moved to Paris, and I watched the way my dad fawned over him and everything he accomplished. I felt like such a failure, and I just…couldn’t control it anymore. I couldn’t control anything. That was the year I had my first attack.”
Her eyes grow moist as she reaches for me, rubbing her fingers softly over the peak of my cheekbone to my ear.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because it’s embarrassing,” I mutter with a sarcastic laugh.
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Jules. Do you have anything to treat it?”
My eyes cast away in shame. “Yes.”
“And do you…take it?”
“I’ve been doing so good lately. I take it when I need to.”
Her lips purse with concern, and I feel like I’m crawling outof my skin. It’s like she can read my mind and sees my shame. I don’t need to tell Freya these meds only work if I take them every day because she sees it in my eyes. But instead of dousing me in even more disgrace, she comforts. Because that’s what Freya does. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of?—”
“Can we change the subject, please?”
With a sympathetic smile, she settles deeper into the couch. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
“You,” I reply without hesitation.Always you.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you seem to handle all this so well. Your parents must be proud.”
